And finally ... a story

Truth and tale

Once upon a time, an old lady roamed the world looking for shelter.

Wrinkled and wizened, naked but for a raggedy blanket pulled around her skinny shoulders, she made her way from town to town, village to village, knocking on doors, begging to be let in.

She longed for a bit of warmth and human company but sadly the people inside would take one look at her and slam the door in her face leaving her out in the cold.

One day as she bemoaned her sad fate, she saw a strangely dressed man stride into the village.

The man wore a cape reaching all the way down to his ankles that seemed to be contrived of a thousand shimmering, glimmering colours that merged, blended and transformed, with every step he took.

The old lady watched the man as he approached one of the houses and knocked on the door. The door opened and he was immediately welcomed in amidst exclamations of joy and pleasure.

Astounded, the old lady crept up to the house and peered through the window. Inside she could see the man being looked after like a guest of honour; wined and dined and patted on the shoulder with affection. She could barely believe her eyes.

After enjoying his fill, the man walked to a second house and the same scene repeated itself again and then again and again until the old woman could not contain herself any longer.

Running after him she tugged his sleeve saying: ‘Excuse me. How is it that you are invited into all of the houses while I am kept out in the cold? Who are you?’

The man looked at her in amusement, flicking his cloak around his ankles so that all the colours once again shimmered and merged, falling in downward waves of soft shining radiant hues.

‘Who am I?’ says he, ‘I am the Tale. And who are you?’

The old woman turned slightly red and lowered her eyes. ‘I am ... Truth. The Bare Truth I am often called.’

Tale nodded his head in sympathy. ‘Yes, I understand’ he said. ‘People are not often fond of truth. But look here, I have an idea! Come hide under my cloak, and perhaps I can sneak you into the houses’.

Truth crept under Tale’s colourful cloak and together they entered.

In each and every house both were greeted like guests of honour; wined and dined and even begged not to leave.

And from that day onward, it is said that every tale holds much truth ... in fact it is said that truth and tale are so inseparably intertwined, it is often impossible to tell the difference.