There was once a tree. A nice old tree with branches like fat cookie dough slathered fingers.
It smelled like baking bread and all the olive trees in the field wanted to someday get drizzled on it.
There was a young girl who would sit under it and read each day while her friends watched the internet.
One day as she read a book made out of paper, she happened to turn and see a tiny Wood Nymph getting her mail from a tiny mail box down by the tree’s roots and open a door in the side of the tree.
“Oh! Excuse me Ms. Wood Nymph,” The Girl said.
“Yes dear?”
“Do you know the time?”
“Just past four o’clock, dear. And, what may I ask…I don’t mean to pry, but what are you reading?”
“A book.”
“With words in it strung together and such?”
“Yes. Its got words put together in such a way that a story begins to take shape in my head and I hope that by the end of it the story in my head keeps going.”
“I see. Well, little Girl, if you are one who likes stories I have one to tell you.”
The Girl put her book in her lap and made a face that meant “I’m listening.”

So the Wood Nymph told this story:
A long time ago–before this town around us was here and before the idea of towns had been thought up there was a Tiny Princess who got stolen one night by a Pirate. This Pirate gave her to a strange woman who wore flowers as jewelry. She raised the Princess well enough and the Princess even grew to love the strange flower woman. With the woman’s love, the Princess grew strong and soon enough all kinds of animals and people came to visit her and they loved her too. As she became old, stories about her were told that she was a friend to monkeys, a lover of birds, and a provider of shelter to weary travelers.

“Well that is a rather common story.” Said the Girl.
“Really? Well, its the only story I know so I’m sorry I can’t tell you another.” The Wood Nymph looked down at her tiny, tiny feet in dejection.
“Please! Don’t take offense.” The Girl was quick to interject. “I mean that stories like that are told all the time. Puzzle stories I mean. Allegories.”
“Puzzle? Allegory?”
“Yes,” Said the Girl. “Let me explain.”

And the Girl explained the story like this:
The Princess is a seed. And the Pirate was a crow or some bird and the bird left the seed down among some flowers and the seed began to grow. And once the tree was so big, monkeys played in it and birds liked to rest in it and people would sit in its shade to read or take a nap.

And the Girl picked up her book again.
“Thank you for telling the story to me though–it was a fun little puzzle to figure out.”
And with that the Girl returned to her storybook looking quite pleased with herself.
The Wood Nymph went inside her cozy little home carved out of the tree and looked through her mail before placing it directly in the recycling.
She stopped to poke at the fire in the fireplace and then sat down in her favorite chair.
Next to her on the table was her knitting, a cup of tea gone cold, and a picture of her alongside her monkey and bird friends.
She had got accustomed to being misunderstood by humans.

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