[ WP ] A story about the end of stories .

After all of this time, despite all of the things that had happened, James had run out of stories to tell. He'd searched far and wide for anything new, anything exciting and mysterious, adventurous or dastardly, but there was nothing left out there to be found. All the mysteries of the world had been solved, all the adventures had been had and all the excitement, it seemed, had been shown the exit. He could n't lie to himself: he was disappointed in a way that was entirely foreign to him. That should have excited him - after all it was something new, some story yet untold of how he would deal with such doubts! - but instead it filled him with the dread of knowing it was, perhaps, the only thing still foreign to him. The only story as of yet untold. 
 
 There would be no more stories to banish the darkness or call forth sleep in times of stress or boredom. No more scientific advancements, no more drama at work, no more tales of joyriding across the country - not in time at least. James was realizing all too quickly that time had always been the problem. He did n't have the time to go out and make new stories, did n't have the time to wait for new stories to happen. There was only the time for one more story, and it had to be a good one because it would be the last one. 
 
 He tried to think back to what weaves he'd woven before: there were the stories of the pirates who found treasure on the far side of the moon, stories of soldiers and doctors dying together, crying in each others arms. There were plain stories of dogs or cats that had been lost and then were found, stories of the first time man took to the skies and the marvels and horrors he'd faced there. The first woman on the moon, the first financial fallout, the stories about stories being told in the huddled darkness of attic corners. All of them were exciting and still vivid in his mind, but none of them were new and none of them would suffice. 
 
 What's a storyteller to do when they have no more stories to tell? In a way, it felt like giving up. Like telling your audience, big or small, that you just do n't have any more in you. It's time to pack up your things, finish off your drinks and head on home from the bar, head to sleep, head to wherever you go when you're done lending an ear to an old storyteller for the night. 
 
 That was it! 
 
 James laughed out loud at the sudden inspiration: what better story to be the last than the story about where the storyteller goes when everyone's left or gone to sleep, when the chips are down and the room is empty and the night is darkest. 
 
... When life has moved on and they're waiting for their turn to become someone else's story. 
 
 `` Grandpa, grandpa!'' a little girl - Sara - with brown curls squealed as she entered the room, rushing past the monitors and chairs and right up to his bed. She looked up at him, smiling, as he noticed her parents walk in behind her, embarassed and... sad, `` Do you have a story for me grandpa? I love it when you tell me stories! Oooh tell me the one about the pirates again! I loved that one!'' 
 
 `` Of course ye did ye scallywag!'' James beamed back at her, `` But today I have a new story.'' 
 
 `` Oh I love new stories! What's it about? Tell me, tell me!'' little Sara giggled back, plopping herself down in the chair next to his bed, eager look in her eyes. 
 
 James winked at her, `` It's a story about an old man and a brave little girl and the villains they faced together! But first, I need to speak to your parents alone, okay?'' 
 
 Sara nearly squealed in excitement as she nodded and ran back to the door, pushing past her parents before peering back through the door, eager for the grown-up talk to be over. 
 
 ``... Hey dad.'' His son, Robert, said. 
 
 Helene, his daughter-in-law, followed quickly, concern clear in her voice, `` What- What did they say? Will there be time...?'' 
 
 James shook his head, meeting their eyes as the two of them teared up. He almost started crying himself, watching it break their heart, but he forced himself to be happy, for them and for Sara. 
 
 `` It's okay, I've made my peace with how things have gone. I just want the two of you to know that I've never been more proud in my life to have known a mother, father and daughter like the ones all of you have been. Now I do n't want too many waterworks right now, they said there can be an extended family meeting tomorrow in the cafeteria. I want to deal with... everything then, okay?'' 
 
 Robert, crying, and Helene both nodded, thankfully understanding. 
 
 `` Could you... send little Sara in, please?'' James said, clearing his throat and blinking away the tears that had almost escaped, `` I believe she's expecting a story, is n't she?'' 
 
 `` YES!'' came young, pure cry of impatient joy from outside. 
 
 Helene nodded again, smiling at James before leading Robert out by the shoulders. Sara burst into the room, blissfully unaware in the way only the young can be. 
 
 `` Tell me tell me tell me!'' 
 
 James laughed deep from the bottom of his heart, tears already forgotten. Robert, Helene and Sara were good together, and he'd meant what he'd said about being proud, but tonight was his last chance to tell stories to a little girl that meant the world to him. 
 
 There was n't time to waste.
