Dear Reader,

You see when a writer perched in his study needs inspiration he finds no better source and passion and most importantly, creativity in the other arts. Take me, as I was drafting these events onto paper, I was listening to music. It helps guide the words on the page along with the tone.The simple tone of a Story, Taken from “fictional events” and Drafted to paper.

Now note: The Collection of stories in here may be so Impossibly bizarre you to wish they never happened. This fanciful notion of yours must cease to exist if you wish to see the Overarching narrative. These are stories of Power, Purity, Corruption and just idiocy. 

Please Return these stories to their rightful place the minds of you the readers-

Sincerely 

      God of stories- D.

I: The Big Three.

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Note: The first “Story” I bring to you is the “story” of a god -D.

I think and Know, that when you grow up in a small isolated village, not knowing of the outside world you accumulate a lot of misinformation about almost everything. Smith was one such man. Smith used what WE called “Imagination”. They (They Being the Villagers) called it tomfoolery or lying to oneself. I (Yes I am in this story) found this fact utterly appalling. After all imagination is what makes stories and stories of stories. You see, if there are no stories, there is no imagination, no imagination, no stories.  Thus creating a loop that deeply famishes us gods, not to mention I. 

In a desperate attempt to save ourselves we sent 3 gods down to the mortal plane to approach Smith. We sent a god of war, a god of wisdom and a god of Purity. They gave Smith a choice. A choice to raze the village, A choice to Give Wisdom to the people. And the final choice Was to give them the required innocence. 

Smith saw that All 3 options were Equal in usefulness but obviously varying in morality. You see when you raze everything, you kill every person without imagination, genocide. If you strip all of the corruption from a man, you erase a man's poor life experiences, which build character. You see These were Smith's thoughts. Wisdom was the only path. So as the god of wisdom rose his eyes shining With raw power. He swept the Pure aura of wisdom turning the benign into things of fantasy and wonder, Turning the boring, stale and Nearly dead inside Workers and children into Scholars and giving them untold riches. I find that this was the best for us but this was unbeneficial at best for the village as all shops and mills eventually shut down and the town itself due to “living conditions unfit for the ‘wisest people’ alive.”

Remember this, Sometimes leaving things as it is is the best option

Sincerely The god of stories,

-D.