Excerpt: The Lone Bird Cries for Love

“Come here,” says the storyteller on Friday night. “Come here,” she says to all in sight. “Come here, I’ll tell you a wondrous tale; hear the beauty, and the tragedy as well.”
“Listen well,” says the lady, sitting straight in her chair. “Listen well,” says she in a voice worn with care. “Listen well, for what I tell will figure in your lives, all the love, and the beauty, will at some time arrive.”
“So I begin,” says the storyteller, a gleam in her eyes. “So I begin,” she repeats, looking up at the skies. “So I begin with the story of a young, happy girl, and the way that that she lived and knew her world.”
“She knew the world better, maybe, than I, so please forgive my memory, sneaking details on the sly. But no one can deny what happened long ago, so listen well, consider well, and please, hear me through.”