The Story Teller

In the land of histories, the first being was the goddess Historia she was born of the moon and water.
Historia is so powerful that every word she uttered can command the world, she asked the land to give
birth to trees and trees sprouted in every corners of the world, she asked the sky to form clouds to carry
rain and water the trees. When it was so quiet, she asked the trees to give birth to the birds so that it
can sit in their branches and creates songs in tune with the rustling of the leaves. As she sat on her
marvellous tree-throne she noticed that the land was flat that she asked the great birds of the sky to pull
the land that it created mountains. She also whispered to the mountain to spring forth great beast that
will roam the lands and will continue to shape it. Historia also reach the deepest reach of the sea to
command the sea clams to release the sea monsters and let it roam the wide seas.

Historia fell in love with the sea that she forgotten the dry lands. When she finally emerged from the
water she seen so many creatures roaming the lands, different kind of birds, beast and a very peculiar
life. It stands in two legs, pale, soft skin, and seems very helpless. She asked the Tortoise

‘Tortoise, what are those two skinny creatures, why are they only two when most creatures are plenty’
said Historia

‘The beasts calls them pale skins. The two of them are the only survivors, they are from that tall grass
that calls themselves bamboo, the pale skins arrived in number when a great bird pecks the bamboo and
they appeared. They populated but their young cannot walk alone they die immediately, they have no
fur, no thick skin, they die when it’s cold, they die when it’s hot, they die almost by any reason. Those
two survived because two wolves decided to adopt them and with the grace of the trees they were
given shelter’ said the Tortoise

‘Thank you Tortoise, I must talk to these grasses, trees, and the pale skins’ said Historia

Historia approach the Bamboos ‘Tall Grass, I heard that you gave birth to those pale skins, but they
seemed to weak and die with almost anything that they touch, why did you give birth to something that
is only destined to die’ said Historia

The grass did not speak but a little creature emerged from the soil, it stands on two legs, hairy, with one
big bulgy eyes and a hat made of dried grass ‘O great storyteller, the grass only speaks the language of
the wind, but I, Buyong of the Mushdrums will translate it to the language of the soil. The grass says that
they did not create the pale skins, it was the Great Limokon, the lord of the flying beasts that laid its egg
to these soil, it was absorbed by the earth and from the earth it crawled its way to their insides. In fact,
your highness, many of them died when the flying beast pecks them to make way for the pale skins out
of the bamboos’ said Buyong

‘I see, I have been wrong in assuming that these thin grasses would give birth to a creature just to die’
said Historia

‘Your highness, the remaining bamboos are here because my people, they only creatures here who can
speak the language of the wind heard the cries of the bamboos, we tried to protect them by shooting
the Flying Beast with rocks’ said Buyong
‘Very well. If you please Buyong, tell the grasses my apologies and I will approach Limokon why did they
do such thing. As for you, I give you my blessing that you should be the caretaker of all lands that can be
covered by grass, let this be whispered by the wind to the ears of all creation’ said Historia.

Historia instead of talking with the trees and the pale skins decided to fly to the nest of the flying beasts.
She demanded the ears of Limokon, the king of the birds.

‘Bow down winged creatures, your creator is here, where is your king, Historia of the moon and water
demands his ears.’

‘Storyteller, I heard from the wind that you will bring anger with us, I humbly asked mercy your highness
do not erase us’ said Limokon

‘Curiosity is what I bring bird. Buyong of the Mushdrums told me the story of an egg and that it is your
doing that several bamboos died and the pale skins were born to die’ said Historia

‘Your highness, I was only commanded by someone who calls himself the Dreamer, he was powerful
enough that he need not open his mouth to speak. He reached me through my mind and I suddenly
found out I am in his cave doing his bidding, the egg was not from me, but I was only commanded to
feed it to the land. I was only released from his power that moment you’ve arise from the sea’ said
Limokon

‘The Dreamer you said, and how should I find this so-called creature’ said Historia

‘Straight to the west storyteller, beyond the green mountains and in a cave in the center of the Elevated
Forest. Your highness, this creature he is not like us, he smells of evil, something beyond this world lurks
inside him. Take precaution’ said Limokon

‘You concern is well appreciated King of the Flying Beast, if this creature is so powerful you should go to
the Forest of the Fat Trees and seek shelter in their thick crowns. Abandon this mountain and return
once it is safe. Tell Narra, the eldest tree, that Historia commanded you to take refuge in their forest’
said Historia

Historia journey for 4 days and 3 nights through the green mountains and elevated forest to search for
the cave of the dreamer. On her first night in the foot of the green mountains she met the candle maker.
A fat woman with white hair accompanied by bees who gathers the wax which the candle maker moulds
into candles.

‘Welcome story teller, my bees told me you are coming can you get that pitcher of water’ said The
Candle Maker

Historia gave the pitcher to the candle maker, who poured it in a stone basin and asked her to look at
her reflection in the water. When Historia was looking to her reflection a bee stung her which is so
painful that tears fell into her reflection, while recovering from the pain, the candle maker took a candle
and melted it, letting its wax to drip into the water. The wax although scattered began to form into two
creatures

‘Storyteller, you are here to look for the creature who calls himself the Dreamer to ask about two
creatures he created in your land.’ Said the Candle Maker
‘I do, but I think I don’t need to look for him. You look like a pale skin, only fatter’ said Historia

‘You have sharp eyes, but you are wrong. I am not a pale skin but I am also a Human. We are creatures
born from the earth through grass or trees. And I, like many in this side of the world were born from
trees not from gras’ said the Candle Maker

‘Humans, interesting. I must go now to my journey’ said Historia

‘You will not find the Dreamer but he will find you’ said the Candle Maker

Historia continued her journey and for another day she tried to reach the peak of the Green Mountain.
She stopped to take shade in a tree, a weird tree. I has a huge trunk but its crown looks like roots. He
touched the tree and tried to speak to it.

‘Great tree, I am Historia of the land of stories where trees and storytellers are friends. Please tell me
your story’

The tree began to shake its crown and creature similar to a snake surfaced from the tree.

‘Hisss, this tree is dead. And I, the Balete dwells in it. What do you want tree-friend’

‘Creature, I need temporary shelter, trees in my land give their leaves to travellers who are cold, great
trees also give branches for them to start fire. But this land is strange, I ask no more than what you
customarily give’ said Historia

‘Tree-friend, I am not a tree, I am a Balete, but no matter this tree is dead you can cut-off any of its
branch to make fire, my roots are thick enough for your shade. However, you must tell me why you are
here’ said Balete

‘I seek the creature who calls himself the Dreamer, he has a sin of giving birth to a creature only doomed
to die. I wish to deliver justice’ said Historia

‘A the Dreamer, I am a child of his dreams before he casted me out of his cave because of my
hideousness, he said that dreams should always be beautiful. If you are searching for him you must
follow that trail in the right, you will see traces of other travellers there’ said Balete

‘I don’t see any hideousness from you beside that your killing precious trees’ said Historia

‘But that is the beauty of it tree-friend, this tree will eventually die but it was reborn to something
different while retaining some part of itself, would you not consider that beautiful?’ Said Balete

‘Maybe death and reborn can be considered beautiful, instead of a tree-killer I shall remember you as a
tree-dweller.’ Said Historia

‘Tree-dweller I like that sound of it. Tree-Friend, I have something to give you in exchange of
remembering me with a beautiful name. This is a Balete root, in the trail that I mentioned you will find a
wild mare, the favourite horse of the dreamer. Use this root to tame the horse and ride it to the cave of
the dreamer, it is the only way to reach him’ said Balete

Historia after resting proceeded to the trail, following Balete’s tip, she tracked the steps of the mare. She
journey further to what seemed to be a stone stairs it is so steep good only for a single person to
descend. Against all her instinct she descended. She reached the end of the steps, when the fog cleared
a forest full of black trees, trees without leaves but not dead at seems movement. There is no grass and
the land is nothing but mud. The only color to illuminate the dark marsh are the mushrooms from the
dead trunks and some moss that reflects the light of the moon. She heard a neighing sound, she
followed it until she had a vision of horse, she grab the Balete’s root and carefully positioned herself to
capture the mare. But before she has the chance the mare charged to her position that she fell to the
mud while the mare stared at her. The mare is not a horse, it has a body of a horse but it is a woman,
naked, its breast covered by its long green and brown hair, it has the horns of a deer, eyes pure as white,
and 4 ears. It is armed with a bow now aimed at Historia, but instead of releasing the arrow the creature
whistled and the roots from the black trees began to cover her mouth, the binding her arms, legs, that
she ended up up in a tree hanging like a ripe mango fruit.

She heard the rustling of the leaves and saw the mare-beast sauntered in the direction of the rustling.
From the trees she saw a figure emerge, a most peculiar creature if she will tell in the stories when she
recalls that moment. There stood a man, with a messy hair that covers half of his face, it wears what
seems to be robe of different colors that made it stand out from the black background of the forest. Its
eyes are black, so black that it is beyond empty. The creature approached her while the mare-beast
followed.

‘Good day story teller, I am the one you seek, also a child of the moon, and I fancy to call myself as the
Dreamer, and this is my associate the Anggitay, Angie.’ Angie made a bowing movement. ‘O of course, I
will release your gag or even your binds if you swear not to use your powers against me or any creature
or creature here in the black lands, you can use your head to answer’ Historia nodded in agreement, and
the veins slowly release her from her bounds and carefully lowered her to the muddy soil.

The dreamer curtsied and reached for Historia’s hand ‘Again, for this pleasurable meeting I am the
dreamer, the Candle Maker bees informed me of your desire to meet me, it is an honor. Would you
please kindly sit’ The tree the held her suspended suddenly transformed into a chair and another tree
into a table, Angie then brought hot water, while the Dreamer placed a leaf, the bees poured honey. The
Dreamer asked her to try the drink with him and ask she drank the liquid a sudden gush of colors flashed
to her mind. She quickly noticed that Angie was playing the flute and the surroundings that was black
and bleak turned into luxuriant colors of the trees of her stories.

‘What happened, why is it.. why everything is different’ said Historia

‘Because this is your dream, this is your head and I projected your dreams through my head and to this
environment. It is confusing I know but in a matter of seconds you’ll get used to it’ said the Dreamer

Historia finally got the load off her head and everything seemed to stop circling and she can now see
clearly the Dreamer that was sitting in front of her. She straightened her sit and power, which she was
sure her host noticed. The Dreamer put down the cup and countered the power projected by Historia, it
was a stalemate.

‘This is my realm storyteller and you promised not to use your powers against anyone or anything here.
Settle down and I will tell you what you want to know, the pale skins rights?’ said The Dreamer

Historia relaxed and her power calmed with it. ‘Start by telling me who you are’
‘As I said, your host is also a child of the Moon born at the same time with you. You know, this world
that we live in is a world of exchange, balance, and creation. So when Father Moon created you with
your Mother the water I was born by the night. Why? Because the water was born with the water and
by laws of exchange, balance, and creation all creators like you should be balanced with a balancer just
like me.’ Said the Dreamer

‘Okay, save that jaw drop. Usually, creators are not informed of their counterparts and most of the time
they view them as enemy, like what you are subtlety planning to do. But I tell you, those pale skins are
not intended to destroy your world or your stories. They intend to balance things’ said the Dreamer

‘Then explain to me half-brother why are those things just dying and not balancing?’ said Historia

‘Because dying is an act of balance, all your creatures as well as mine or even the two of us are from a
single filament of life, and when this singularity exploded to millions of pieces the parted into two,
creation and ruin. Typically you are the words of creation and I am the dreams of ruin. The moment you
create through your words your giving me power to dream of ruining it, it’s a simple exchange.’ Said the
Dreamer

‘Then these creatures of ruin, of your dreams can only die?’ said Historia

‘No, you will be surprised what those dreams can do’ said the Dreamer

The Dreamer

When land was formed after the stories has been told, the Moon slept with the Night and together they
crafted a dream. The lord of dreams was made from the elegance of the night and the colors of the
moon. He was a creature of Ruin. When he was young he often hear the stories of the land, the animals,
the waters, the mountains, and even the grass. It made him envious that his world was dark and dead.

When he learned how to walk he asked his Mother Night permission to journey the lands illuminated by
shadow. Night was weary that he might be lost and will never ever find his way home again, but The
Dreamer consoled her mother by saying ‘Dreams always belong to the night, there may be nights
without dreams but there can never be dreams without the embrace of the night’. Mother Night smiled
and gave her blessing to her son ‘Also remember your father in your journeys, I may cover and hide you
from your enemies but your Father Moon will guide the path to your destination’

The Dreamer began his journey in the land of Histories when the Storyteller was in the ocean. He first
saw the magnificent trees, big and green. He then saw the birds with their majestic wings and
marvellous songs. He cried at the beauty of the uneven land, vibrant and full of life.