The world is full of stories. Some are long like crocodiles and others are so short that they don’t even reach the word END. There are stories that are as different from one another as the plumages of birds, the faces of people, or the uncountable leaves of an enormous fig tree.
But the story of this tale was something else: no one had ever read it! It lived hidden in a dark corner of the library, far from where the famous tales, written in gold letters, shone.
Often, these tales spent the afternoons arguing about which of them was the favorite, the mostread, the best loved... Our story listened to them from the shadows, sighing with admiration. It wanted to be like them.
Every time a reader’s eyes approached the library, our story trembled like a sheet of paper in the wind and curled its spine, repeating: “I’m a ghost, no one sees me, I’m a ghost, no one sees me.”
What’s true is that people always passed by, as if it truly didn’t exist.
But one day, a different reader appeared.
She arrived at the large library and began to trace her fingers over the covers, one by one. The phantom story felt her approach and knew that this time it couldn’t escape. When she touched its spine, the girl smiled and pulled it from the shelf, but just when she was getting ready to open it, the story stopped her: “Stop right there! I’m a ghost!”
Startled, the girl almost dropped the book. But a moment later she said, in a determined voice: “Ghosts don’t exist. With your permission, I’m going to read.” “No, please don’t,” the story begged. Trembling, the story added: “I’m afraid of running out.”
The girl let loose a chuckle that shimmered like a butterfly. “Who put such a silly idea in your head? Stories don’t run out! One can read them as many times as you want to and moreover...” The story didn’t let her finish. “The truth is, my pages are blank.”
She rested her fingers on the cover and began to carefully open it. “May I?” Charmed by the girl’s crystal voice, the story let her open its cover. And it’s true, on its pages were no words written with ink, nor colorful illustrations. The phantom story thought that it was empty! But that wasn’t the case.
Its pages overflowed with tiny little pricks, like many raised bumps. “No one has ever read you, right?” the girl said. The story shook its pages no. “Your pages are not made for just anyone. Your marvelous story is not read with the eyes.”
And right there, to the story’s astonishment and delight, the girl began to read the magical tale contained within its pages, written in Braille, the language that is read with the tips of the fingers.
The phantom story, now happy, realized that there is no story that’s better than any other, just different; just as the plumages of the birds are different, or the faces of people, or the uncountable leaves of the fig tree.
Jaime Gamboa Goldenberg / Costa Rica Writer and musician member of the band Malpaís, for which he has written more than 30 songs. With Amanuense, he has published La risa contagiosa (Infectious laughter) and El cuento fantasma (The phantom story). In 2013, his story Corazón de marimba (Marimba heart) won in the first Central American children’s literature competition, organized by Amanuense.
Wen Hsu Chen / Costa Rica An architect (University of Costa Rica) and BFA (Rhode Island School of Design). Her technique –watercolor and cut paper– has earned her many awards, as the NOMA Concours Grand Prize (ACCU / UNESCO), Japan.
The phantom story lived hidden in a dark corner of the library, far from the famous stories written in gold letters and full of beautiful drawings, until one day a different reader appeared.