This, dear daughter, is where the fable ends. I know it wasn't what you expected. My stories aren't fables in the usual sense. There is insufficient compression in my art. There are no foxes or crows, walnut trees or winds, winding paths or words of wisdom. There are no pithy morals. Then again, some of my stories include wondrous creatures and magical objects that carry on mysterious conversations.
But let's leave classification to the literary critics.
I can tell you want another story. Unfortunately, there just isn't time tonight.
I know, dearest. You're scared of a monster. It stalks your nightmares. But don't worry. You are not alone.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you another story that might teach you something about facing monsters on your own. It's a story you know and the one you love most of all but maybe we'll see something new in it, together.
Ah, I can see your eyes closing already. And soon we'll begin another fable. Or a world. Or a thought experiment. Or a game. Or a scattering of glass shards. Or a constellation composed of four grains of sand.
Shut your eyes my darling….