The Storyteller just arrived at the Temple of the Setting, where all stories have been collected and told through the generations.
He saw the giant building, which radiated happiness and harmony. Looked like the merriest place on the world. He climbed up the stairs and walked through the front door. The inside of the Temple was even more beautiful than the outside. It was full of happy people, who talked to each other with warm smiles. Everyone seemed happy.
One priest approached the Storyteller. He wore the standardized blue robes of a Collector. The Collectors were the servants and the guardians of the Setting. They protected it from any sign of corruption.
‘Are you the Storyteller of the Mountain?’ asked the priest nicely.
‘Yes.’ answered the Storyteller. ‘I bring the Story of Memory, which I want to tell in the Hall of the Well.’
‘Excellent.’ said the man in blue. ‘Please, come with me! I will guide you through the Temple.’
The Storyteller followed the Collector, and while they climbed stairs and walked through corridors, the bearer of the Memory complimented the happy aura of the Temple. The Collector humbly thanked him.
The Hall of the Well was a big circle room, with a smiling statue of a woman in its center. Next to the well stood two people. A young and an old, both of them were Collectors.
When they spotted their fellow priest and the Storyteller, bows and introductions were exchanged.
‘It’s nice to see you, Storyteller of the Mountain.’ said the older Collector.
‘I hoped to meet you soon, Master Collector.’
‘I can’t wait to listen one of your nice stories. I think Mother Well will love it too.’
‘I hope so. I traveled so long to share our story.’
‘Then we should not waste any of your time, dear Storyteller. Let’s proceed with the Telling, shall we?’
The three Collectors sat around the statue in a triangle form, and started to meditate. And so, the Storyteller has begun…

My Story, like all good stories, finished where it starts. It’s the Story of a Downpour.
Once Upon a Time, there was a little girl named Hainoka. Hainoka was the sweetest, most caring child in her village, yet her parents were twisted with malicious thoughts. They never understood the idea of Kindness and Love, as both of them exchanged their Hearts a long time ago. Now they lived in prosperity. There was always food on the table, wine in the cup and fancy dresses to wear. Yet poor little Hainoka wore nothing but a sack.
One day, the mysterious Taxman arrived to collect their annual contribution for the Emperor. Hainoka’s parents were scared. They wanted to keep everything. They couldn’t live without all their cows, all their clothes, all of their bottles of wine.
But they could without their only little daughter.
So they offered the little lady to the Taxman. He took her with him.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. The Taxman took little Hainoka from her abusive, selfish parents. So the Taxman helped her a lot, wasn’t he? Well, Hainoka thought the same. But I have to ask a question from you: what kind of man is someone, who accepts a little child as a contribution?
The Taxman was much more evil than the parents. While the parents were evil because of an exchange, the Taxman was evil because he chose to be. And he committed unimaginable atrocities to Hainoka. He stripped her of her sack and forced her to walk naked with him. He forced her to sleep with him, to warm him with the touch of an adult woman. And she had to endure everything if she wanted to live till the next day.
But her Calvary didn’t end there.
When she appeared before the Emperor and he examined her trembling, fragile body, he sentenced her to torture. Ordered his servants to beat her with fists and sticks. The Emperor never tolerated weakness, for he was a man who also exchanged his Heart for the Throne. But of course, little Hainoka was just a child. She cried loudly, and her pain was like a melody to the ears of the regent. So he tortured her more.
Day by day, night by night, little Hainoka cried with pain. She didn’t understand, why the Emperor punished her, why he enjoys her pain. But how could she know? She had her heart and her soul. She was innocent. And that was the reason.
Those who live their lives in the Shadow of Evil, don’t want to see the Light of Good. Because the flames of the smallest candle can drive away the deepest shadows.
After the sixth day, Hainoka body collapsed. Broken under the constant pain and humiliation. Her body was thrown away like some filthy rags. Rats, stray dogs and worms ate it on the street.
And this concludes The Story of Memory. The story which based on the truth, and has been told by my ancients on the Mountain.

There was deep silence in the room.
The Master Collector impatiently asked.
‘So, where’s the ending, Storyteller?’
‘That’s the ending. That’s how the story ends.’
The priests’ faces showed disgust and incomprehension.
‘But…’ started the young one. ‘But this story has a… sad ending.’
‘Most of our stories are sad.’ answered the Storyteller and shrugged. ‘The Mountain People are poor. Our life is about hardships. Our stories reflect it pretty well.’
The Master Collector’s face was like a demon’s mask. If his eyes could kill, the Storyteller would’ve been burned alive.
‘Then your stories doesn’t worth a damn.’ he said coldly.
The Storyteller was shocked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard well, you miserable fool!’ cried the elder and stood up. ‘The Well cannot be corrupted with stories like this! It’s the main source of our happiness. If you pour sad stories like this in it… Oh, hell!’
And so, the Storyteller felt it. The overall mood of the place changed. The bright colors from the walls were gone. It looked more like a real building from real stones.
The young priest stood up.
‘We have to scoop it out, Master!’
‘I know! I know!’
The old priest pointed at the Storyteller while looking in the of the third Collector.
‘Escort him out! Now!’
And so the Storyteller has been asked to leave the Temple.

When he stood in front of the door which was closed in front of him forever, he was furious.
The priest, who accompanied him in the Temple, told him the truth before he pushed him out of the building.
No one cared for Hainoka. Nor your people. Sad stories have no place in the Well, since they only cause disharmony. They fill everyone with feelings, feelings lead to bad thoughts and bad thoughts can cause trouble. The Temple of the Setting won’t tolerate any stories which make anyone sad. Only bright, cheerful and happy stories are allowed.
What none of the priests saw is the face of the well. Her smile faded away when the Storyteller concluded his story. But there were some drops under her eyes. And she smiled again when they left the room.
Because the real point is not in the mood of your story. Just tell good ones. Nothing else matters.