"... a storyteller..."

(part of a greater thought, see "... a girl..." )

It's dark, maybe there is a fire glowing, maybe the only light is that of the stars.  There is one voice you can hear. Softly it starts building and dropping just like a piece of music. You have to strain to hear each word. Each word winds the story around another bend, taking you further into it's self. In the darkness your mind has nothing to see but the pictures that are being suggested to you.  You see places you've never been, you began to feel for characters you have only just met. They hope and grow week, they encounter incredible evil and display outstanding good.  For the duration of the story you can believe in light winning against dark, and in love outlasting bitterness, hatred and fear.

Someone has lead you, transported you, squeezed past your walls of practicality and disbelief.
There are many ways to tell a story but my favorite is with me telling it out loud directly to the listeners who are right beside me. You compete against every distraction that can fly, walk, or fall into the space. But those two words "the space" is part of why I love it. You can tell a story anywhere. In a moment a friend has left the hospital. A nerves child forgets he's backstage. Homesick girls are lost in a love story.  And squirmy boys are slaying dragons.