The roaring fire place crackled and burned while its bright golden flames lit up the little parlor where there sat a small girl, warming her toes by the fire. She was a pretty little girl wearing a long nightgown. Her long curls hung loose around her shoulders, framing her little face. She looked up smiling at her grandfather who sat quite still and silent beside her in his chair.
“Grandfather,” she said, “Tell me a story.”
Roused from his thoughts, he turned to his little granddaughter and said,
“What kind of story would you like to hear?”
She paused a moment to think and then her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Tell me a fairytale!”
“A fairytale? Well. . . Now, I don’t know,” he smiled.
She laughed and urged him further.
“Alright, alright,” he said, while pulling her up into his lap.
“Where should my story begin?” he asked.
“At the beginning, of course,” She smiled.
He hugged his little granddaughter close to him as she rested her head on his shoulder. The grandfather took a deep breath and began.
“Once upon a time, there lived a very old King. This King was no usual King, this King was a very lonely King. He had everything in all the world that he could possibly want. He had diamonds, gold, and an enormous palace, yet he was still very sad. One day, the King sat alone on his throne looking very downcast. Two of the King’s royal advisors came to visit him. When they saw how sad the poor King looked they became very concerned.
‘The poor King,’ whispered one to the other, ‘He looks so very sad.’
‘Yes,’ replied the other, ‘I am afraid it will affect his health.’
‘Do you think it might?’ asked the other, concerned.
‘Indeed. If the King finds no cure for his sorrow, what will the Kingdom do?’
‘We must do something to help the poor King.’
‘Yes . . . but what?’
Continue reading The King’s Cure
Eleven Worlds 