Prompt:

After making your way through many challenges in your quest for the most sought after treasure in the land, you finally make it to the last test where so many before you have failed. In front of you stands the person who has been watching you in your quest. They turn their head to a small girl kneeling on the ground, her head hung down. Your task: Convince her that she has a talent

I stare at the little girl, who lifts her head up. Her face bears no anger, no surprise, no joy to see me. Her face is the face of one who has lost all hope, who has seen countless people try, and knows she will see countless more. Her gray eyes are dull, and seem almost dead.

"Hello," I say kindly. "What's your name?"

The girl looks down at the rocky ground. I notice dozens of tally marks and names, all carved into the stone. "Amery," she says. "My name is Amery."

I nod. "Hello Amery. I'm Hailey." I point at the scratches. "What are the tally marks for?"

"Each time a person fails, I add their name to the rock," she explains sullenly. "Each tally mark is a person."

I stare at Amery's tally marks. 'She's grown to expect failure,' I think to myself. "Well, if you have all these tally marks, and all these names, do you remember them?"

Amery looks at me. "Why do you ask?" She asks.

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me about them, so I know what's already been covered," I explain. "I don't want to waste my time trying to convince you of talents that you know you don't have."

"I don't have any talent at all, so there's no help there," Amery says sadly.

"Tell me anyways."

Amery sighs. "Fine. I might as well."

Amery begins to tell me of each individual who she could remember coming to her. There was Taron, who had oily hair and tried to tell her that her talent was carving, and Nevitts, who told her she had a beautiful voice, despite the child having a voice like stone rubbing against glass. There had been Marianne, who'd said that she had a very beautiful skeletal structure, and that her talent could be being in an anatomy museum after she died.

"I cried after she said that," Amery tells me with a slight laugh. Her laugh was not a beautiful laugh, like tinkling bells, but I have never heard a laugh quite like it. It is unpracticed, and raspy.

Amery and I sit there for who knows how long, before either of us realize it, she's told me about each and every quester.

I smile at Amery. "You know what?" I say. "Ive found your talent, Amery."

Amery looks at me. "Oh," she says, almost sadly. She picks up her carving tool. "What is it?"

"Storytelling. You have an amazing talent for making me see that which is not in front of me, making me imagine their voices, and giving them life. Amery, you're a storyteller."

Amery stares at me. Her carving tool falls out of her hand. "I- you-well-" she stammers. "Do you really think so?"

I nod. "Yes," I say.

Amery looked at me, with tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you," she said. "You pass."