Previously on "The Storyteller's Mercy" “You are very WICKED!” She put her feet on the floor and changed her sitting position, one similar to mine just that I had my palm underneath my head and she held her shawl which she had crumpled into a ball on her laps. I allowed the silence to linger. “That is not all,” I said feeling smug.
She raised a brow and turned her head to look at me with an expectant face, although I could see she was a little bit annoyed. I took that as a cue to continue my story.
“So ever since the day the little girl gave her vase away, her father also took his vase out of her reach lest she gave it away too. This annoyed her so much, her relationship with her father became strained. The nanny noticed the tension and tried to help matters in her own way; the nanny would usually send the girl to her father’s shop, which was next door, with his lunch but she would just hand it over to one of the apprentices at the shop so she would not have to see him. The nanny also extended the girl’s bedtime by an hour so that they could have a daddy-daughter time but the daughter would simply stay all by herself in her room. The father also tried to reach out to his daughter to no avail. Subsequent years were no different; times became very dull in their household.”
“Unbelievable…” She muttered.
“On her eighteenth birthday, the unexpected happened. She entered her room to see her very own vase, the one she had given away years before sitting on her desk. For a moment she thought it was a new one but no, it wasn’t. She ran out of her room to seek an explanation from the nanny. A week to her birthday, her father went out to get a present for her. Not just any present but one that would rekindle their relationship. Surprisingly, he headed straight for the shopkeeper’s house. He asked if the shopkeeper still had the vase by chance. The shopkeeper laughed very hard. He still had it but he hadn’t used it. It only sat in his storeroom collecting dust. It turned out that the shopkeeper was once the father’s apprentice and was shamefully sacked a day after the potter made the daughter’s vase because the shopkeeper had tried to steal it. The shopkeeper’s only desire was to get back at the potter. The potter asked if he could have the vase but the shopkeeper insisted that he would not give away such an invaluable piece of art away just like that.”
“Do I hate this shopkeeper?”
I smiled. “Since that was the case, the father went home and retrieved his vase to exchange it for the daughter’s vase. Upon hearing this story, the girl ran to the father’s shop and wept like a baby in his hands. She realized that no matter how unworthy she felt, she knew she was valued and loved and so was her vase, if it had any feelings at all. However, that day, she received what became her best birthday present ever, a rekindled relationship with her father, the potter. Now, that would be the end of my story.” I heaved a deep sigh.
She grinned. “Wow…that was so beautiful. Much better. Was that supposed to be your original storyline or you changed it because I insisted?”
“That was my original intent.”
“So you were messing with me.”
I only winked in response and received a playful blow to the shoulder.
“But why did you choose such a storyline for it could have ended in more than one way including the pathetic one you attempted to use.” She asked in all seriousness.
I paused and then replied. “It seemed more meaningful that way.”
All of a sudden, the bus swerved sharply to the left and then to the right again. Amidst the blaring horns, blinding headlights and piercing screams, I heard a loud collision and then the side of the bus where I was seated began to lift off the ground. Unfortunately, I was not wearing a seat belt so I flew out of my seat. Neither was she.
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