From the heart of a wood which lost its name long ago, is a place where a seeker of stories
may go.
If you've arrived in a story's your desire, come, take a seat, for what you require is
a tale from the second storytime.
Yes, yes, Hilbert, I know.
Just look for anything useful.
No, that's just an ancient cursed pendant.
I said useful, you know, like, oh, hello, dears.
Welcome back.
I am the first storyteller of course, but you knew that, and I believe you have encountered
my good friend here, Hilbert.
What do you mean, professional acquaintance?
Well, that's true, but I thought we were past that personally.
Well, why don't you do your job then and find us a story?
Sorry about Hilbert.
I did him a favour once.
He visited this tower a long time ago.
I'm here.
I'm right here.
Hello?
Can you hear me?
And so at this point, I suppose we're more or less stuck with each other.
What story did you find for us, Hilbert?
Oh, how shocking.
A story about a crow.
Uh...
Right then, let's begin.
Winter Friendship
Clumps of snowflakes drifted in lazy comfort through a forest, along with a crow who matched
their pace and attitude. Floating easily through the dim morning light and pine trees, the
crow spotted a few pieces of corn stuck in a pile of snow.
They landed on a ball of soft fabric which capped off the snowpile and inspected their
snack with a curious peck.
A soft voice startled the crow from their hunger.
Oh, please don't take that. I need it. The voice pleaded.
The crow grumbled their annoyance and hopped off the snowpile to better inspect the source
of the voice.
Focused on the corn, the crow hadn't noticed the sticks poking out of the snowpile at awkward
angles. They also hadn't noticed the small rocks or the carrot that had been stuck just
above the corn.
There was also fabric wrapped around the snowpile in addition to the soft fabric the crow had
initially landed on.
Reassessing their quarry, the crow realized the small fortune that they had been perching
on. They hopped towards the snowpile once more with rumbling, hungry squawks.
Now, White, please just listen, the snowpile urged.
The crow stopped, tilted their head and carded their frustrations.
Ah, I'm a snowman, you see, the snowman explained quickly.
Yesterday, a child came to these woods with their parents and built me. They had brought
a pocketful of corn kernels to make my mouth, and even this beautiful hat and scarf.
The crow blinked and tapped at the ground with an impatient beak as the snowman rambled
out the story of their creation.
The care and attention in the child's eyes during construction, the stories the child
had shared with the snowman about riding on the school bus and sitting next to Chloe during
lunch, the eventual decisive statement of the child of, you're my best friend, as they
had draped a scarf around the finished snowman.
All of this was imparted unceasingly to the crow until the bird gave a raspy caw and flew
off into some dark branches, away from the clawing desperation of the snowperson.
A few days later, when the forest floor remained hard and frozen but had shed its coat of downy
snow, the crow returned.
The snowman looked more or less the same when the crow landed on the ground beside them
and tugged at one of the branches that served as an arm.
Oh, wait, that's my arm, if you please, the snowman exclaimed, which sent the crow hopping
backwards grumpily without their prize.
Thank you, truly.
Not every creature has been as kind as you.
As you can see, most of my math has already been carried off.
The crow scrutinized the snowman's face with an assessor's skill and noted that only a
few of the corn kernels remained of the snowman's smile.
One of the stones that had served as an eye was also tragically missing, though apart
from these details, most of the snowman seemed to be intact.
The crow gave a gruff squawk of acknowledgments.
I'll realise the corn just gave me the appearance of a math, clearly I'm still able to speak
to you.
It's just that I'm sure that the child will return any day now.
I would really like to be looking more best.
I want to look exactly the same as how they left me so that we can share another lovely
day together.
And the snowman indulged in another ramble, this time about how pleased the child would
be to return, finding their best friend unchanged.
How the snowman and the child would get to have another day together, maybe even nicer
than the first.
By the time the snowman was finished with their wishful musings, the crow was long gone.
Their departure had been silent and unspectacular.
A few days later, the crow landed on a tree stump to survey what was left of their snow-based
acquaintance.
The air carried the damp scent of greenery only just on the verge of waking.
Both of the stone eyes were missing now, which was just as well, because the carrot nose
and the remaining corn kernels were gone too.
As the crow considered plucking a string or two from the bobble-hat, the snowman gave
a soft sigh.
I'll really try to stie the sign, you know.
The animals just kept ticking things, no matter how much I pleaded.
And it's not as if—it's not as if the child came back to stop them or replace what was
taken.
But they said it—oh, no, they said it—not I was their best friend.
Why would they even give that to me if they didn't plan to come back?
The snowman threaded.
The crow offered a few croaking sounds in response.
What do you know about it?
You weren't even there.
The snowman suddenly snapped defensively.
You didn't see how happy they were—how happy I was.
Why made them so happy, then why have they left me here with only the memories?
But the question was asked to nobody.
The crow had already flown away.
A few days later, the crow landed by a tiny mound of snow.
Only the bravest blades of grass had begun to explore the forest floor.
The scarf looked enormous by comparison to the snow that remained.
The crow cored with increasing volume until the snowman responded.
You are very kind, friend, and I think it is okay if you do not want to call me your
friend.
You have returned so many times.
You've listened.
Even if I am not your friend, you have been mine.
That child, they may never return here, but that day, when they called me their best friend,
it made me very happy.
That moment still makes me happy.
The crow blinked, but otherwise remained still.
If it is okay with you, would you please take my scarf with you when you go?
I would like it very much if taking it made you happy.
said the snowman.
The crow hopped forward and snatched up the scarf in their beak.
They flew back to a waiting nest, which was about to be much warmer.
Why is there just a cabinet filled with cords and cables?
What would you even plug these things into?
Hilbert, could you get me one of the large trash bags?
Hilbert?
Oh!
How did you like the story?
As for me, I've just been sorting through the endless chaos in here, looking for anything
of use.
But I- oh!
Oh!
That's just a big jar of teeth.
Alright?
Okay.
Um, well as usual, if there is a particular type of story you're interested in, do let
me know.
I'm sure I can find one for you.
But for now, be well and carry today's story in your heart.
Today's tale has ended, but return once again to this place where you are considered a friend.
Come to this tower in its mysterious dweller for more from the library of The Second Storyteller.
Thank you for listening to The Second Storyteller.
If you have a prompt for a story, please send it to thesecondstoryteller at gmail.com.
If your prompt is selected, your name will be credited at the end of the episode.
This prompt was Connections, submitted by ScienceSinsox.
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A donation as small as a dollar is greatly appreciated and helps keep us going.
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The Second Storyteller podcast and the featured stories were written and created by Katie
Chacon.
The role of the Second Storyteller is played by Charles Scott.
The role of the first Storyteller is played by Katie Chacon.
Today's voice of the story was provided by Charles Scott.
The voice of the intro and outro is Chris Camp, and you can find the fantastic games he's
worked on at rix.itch.io.
The music was written by Fintan, who can be found at garbagebag.itch.io.
The Second Storyteller will return next month with more magic, fun, and of course, a story
to tell.