The Story of Truth and a Story about Truth

Truth walked into a village. The local inhabitants started cursing at him. Spewing epithets, they chased him out of the village.
Truth walked along the road to the next town. They spit at him and cursed and spewed epithets, driving him out of town.
He walked, lonely and sad, down the empty road, until he reached the next town, still hoping to find someone who was happy to see him, who would embrace Truth with open arms.
So he walked into the third town, this time in the middle of the night, hoping that dawn would find the townsfolk, happy to see Truth with dawn’s light. But as soon as they townsfolk’s eyes lit upon him they ran to their homes and then came back throwing garbage at him.
Truth ran off, out of town, into the woods, and after crying, and cleaning off the garbage, returned to the edge of the woods, when he heard laughter and gaiety, singing and applause. He saw the townsfolk applauding as STORY entered the town. They brought out fresh meats and soups and pies and pastries and offered them all to STORY. Who smiled and lavished in their love and appreciation.
Come twilight, Truth was sulking and sobbing at the edge of the woods. The townsfolk disdainfully ignored him, but STORY came out to see what the story was.
TRUTH told STORY how all the townsfolk mistreated him, how sad and lonely he was, how much he wanted to accepted and appreciated.
STORY replied, “Of course they all reject you, “STORY looked at TRUTH, eyes a bit lowered to the side, “No-one wants to look at the naked truth.”
So STORY gave TRUTH brilliant, beautiful clothing to wear. And they walked into the town together, TRUTH with STORY. And the townspeople greeted them with warmth and love and appreciation, for TRUTH wrapped in STORY’s clothing is a beautiful thing and easy to behold.
And ever since then, truth travels with story, and they are always accepted and loved. And that’s the way it was and the way it is and the way it will always be.
Editorial Note: I do not know who the original author is. I first heard this at the Berlin Change Days when Stephanie Boldt presented Storywork and recited this at the beginning of her workshop.