Christian and Walter

Once upon a time (well, in the middle of the 19^th century) there was a storyteller called Christian. Every week, he would go into the town centre and tell his latest tales.  Audience members would applaud and pay him with plenty of gold and silver coins, but the main thing Christian loved was being able to share his stories with the public. Tales of toy soldiers and jumping fleas, talking candles and lonely giants. Some ended happily, many ended sadly, but most were somewhere in the middle. Christian especially enjoyed stories where his character failed, but eventually found some sort of happiness, even if it was in the afterlife.

“Why do you enjoy telling stories where the main character dies?” a raven-haired girl asked after one storytelling session.

Christian thought about this for a few seconds and responded. “I’m not sure,” he told the girl, “I think it’s because I’ve had a lot of disappointments in my life. Maybe there is something better around the corner.”

“Isn’t it a sin to…you know?”

“I would never dream of suicide.” Christian replied, “There is too much beauty and wonder in this world to consider it for a second. It’s just that the idea of a world beyond this one is pretty easy to understand.”

“I know, but…”

“We’ve all heard the preacher every Sunday, saying that if we persevere, we get rewarded in the next life.” Christian added, “It’s a useful belief. It keeps us going through the difficulties life throws at us. But if we tried to avoid those difficulties too much, we would have to miss out on the good stuff as well.”

“True,” the raven-haired girl responded. She considered this for a moment, then asked Christian “Can you tell the story about the duckling? It’s my favourite!”

So, Christian turned to another page in his book and told the girl the story about the duckling. It was a rather bittersweet tale, but it had one of his happier endings. He certainly felt he had a lot in common with his main character.

******

A few weeks later, Christian was packing up his books after a session of storytelling when he saw a crowd gathering around person storyteller on the other side of the square. This man stood on a podium with a roguish grin, and a pretty impressive moustache.

“Hello everybody!” he shouted, his loud, confident delivery providing an immediate contrast to Christian’s more intimate style. “My name’s Walter, and I’m here to tell you the story about the brave angel who wanted to become part of the human world.”

This attracted Christopher’s attention – his first tale he had ever told at his storytelling sessions had also been about an angel interested in the human world. He listened carefully to the story – Walter was a skilled showman, but his take was certainly a lot happier than Christian would have liked.

“And the angel married Prince Jonah and lived happily ever after. So, you see, all dreams come true if we have the courage to pursue them.”

Christian rolled his eyes at this. He had certainly pursued enough dreams to know that it was never that simple. But the audience were applauding and cheering – Christian had never heard such a loud response to a story before.

Walter then opened his box, took a lute out of it, and started playing a song. It was certainly catchy, and it seemed like everyone in the crowd loved it. Christian went quietly away to his house – it was time to make his next book of fairy tales as impressive as possible. But deep down, Christian recognized that his new rival would certainly upstage him.

******

Over the next few months, Christian’s fears came true, as Walter established himself as the talk of the town. Christian’s books and storytelling sessions still made enough money to live on, but less than usual, as many people saved their money for Walter. Worst of all, Christian was beginning to lose his passion for his worlds and characters. Every performance, he looked enviously at Walter, who was entertaining his audience as effortlessly as usual.

Christian tried to copy Walter’s winning formula and incorporate the things that made his new rival so appealing. However, as hard as Christian tried, he couldn’t play music as well. He tried to create more happy stories, but somehow they felt forced, they felt artificial. Anyone watching him could tell he was putting too much effort into copying the popular new storyteller located nearby.

One day, Christian was telling his latest story, about a girl travelling to the North Pole, However, just a few paces away, he could hear Walter telling another new story. This one also seemed to be about a girl travelling to a snowy land, but as usual, Walter was filling it with all the catchy songs and silly characters he could throw at it. Christian found it increasingly hard to focus on his own tale.

“Gertrude’s journey was hard and painful, but her faith and tenacity allowed her to continue. As she glanced at the endless paper-white ice sheets around her, she…“. He stopped, mid-sentence and walked towards Walter’s platform in time to hear the latest part of his frivolous fantasy.

“Then, just as she was nearing the end of her journey, Princess Anya came up against a treacherous villain…”

Christian watched the crowd and felt like he was the only person not enthralled by Walter’s every word. The overuse of villains was another thing that annoyed Christian about Walter’s stories. The world was full of selfish and misguided people, and Christian made sure his tales reflected that, but he would never create a character motivated by pure malice.

“A treacherous villain… called Christian!”

Christian was NOT impressed. He knew that there were greater things to be worried about, but it still irritated him. He silently went away, feeling angrier than he had ever felt in his life.

******

Half an hour after Christian stormed away, Walter concluded his story. Families poured in to give him money, providing enough gold and silver coins for him to live in comfort for months. Some audience members showered him with compliments, but a few had more substantial questions. “Why did you call the baddie Christian?” a curious adult asked him.

“The name just came to me.” Walter commented, his usual energy fading for just a moment.

“Don’t you know about that storyteller called Christian who also performs here?”

“Yes, I do”, said Walter, as his smile returned to his lips, “I think he’s really good actually.”

******

Christian had no idea that Walter had praised his work, and his next storytelling session was probably his worst one to date. He told endless stories about tormented characters being squashed by heartless tyrants called Walter, violating many of his own personal rules as he did so. An audience of one or two dozen people - probably Christian’s smallest crowd yet – watched with bemusement.

As Christian stuffed his latest book into his pocket, mind full of frustration and disappointment, he noticed a young woman was standing in the square next to him. It took Christian a few moments, but he recognized her as the raven-haired young woman who had asked him about his tendency to provide sad endings.

“Go away,” Christian told her “I don’t want to tell any more tales.”

“Aren’t you going to tell the one about the duckling again?”

“What’s the point?” said Christian, “If you want a story, go listen to Walter.”

“I prefer yours.” The girl said, “Sure, Walter has done some good stories, but yours are even better.”

“Why do so many people listen to his then?”

“Because they’re fun, I guess. I enjoy them, but that doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy your stories as well. He makes pure escapism. But yours move me in a way Walter’s stories don’t. They feel more… real. I want to hear more of them, and I bet a lot of other people do as well.”

Christian hadn’t thought about this. Maybe he didn’t need to copy Walter in order to succeed. “So what should I do?”

“Just tell the stories you used to tell before you started becoming jealous of Walter. The ones about the shoes and the snails and the lives of fir trees. You tell them well enough, and people will turn up. There can never be enough storytellers in the world.”

The raven-haired girl took a small book out of her pocket, with a duckling on the cover. Christian briefly read through it, noticing that it contained several fairy tales in a style similar to his best work.

“Your stories inspired me so much, I created my own. As long as you tell are able to tell the stories you want to tell, as long as you are able to share them with anyone, that’s what being a storyteller is all about.”

Christian gave the book back to the raven-haired girl and smiled at her. Maybe there was room for more than one storyteller in the town square after all…

******

The following weekend, Christian went to another part of the square, far enough from Walter to ensure that he could gain an audience of his own. As people steadily gathered in front of him, Christian steadily returned to his old form – it was almost as if the past few weeks of disillusionment had never happened. Christian concluded his storytelling session with the story of the duckling.

This time, he wasn’t concerned about the size of his crowd compared to Walter’s. He just focused on every face and recognized that some of them had attended his performances from the beginning, others were people who he hadn’t seen before. Several children. A surprisingly large number of adults. And, for the first time in ages, he just told his best fables, sharing every emotion with the characters who inhabited them. “I’ll leave the competition to Walter” he thought. There would always be people willing to listen to his stories, and that was all that mattered.

“And the duckling was grateful for everything he had been through, because it made him appreciate what it was like to be happy.”

As Christian finished his storytelling session that day, he knew exactly how that duckling felt.