A Literary Life

“This is my library,” Yvor said, gesturing expansively with his pipe. 

“Grand, though it seems you've not yet completed it,” I said, noting the half-empty shelves.

Suddenly, there came the sound of a book appearing from nothing; a most unusual noise.

“That is the book of what would have happened had I decided not to reveal my secret,” Yvor laughed.  “You see, here the stories of all possible Yvors appear after the chance that might create them has passed.”

“How terrible!” I said.  “To know always what might have been...”

Yvor smiled serenely.  “I see you are not a reader.” 

Untold

The swordmaster was white of hair, but his fiery spirit still burned behind his eyes. He looked on the slender youth, and his mouth twisted. "Train you? Pah! I run no orphanage for lost children here."

The boy shrugged. "All right, then."

He returned home and became a baker. His uncle had long wanted an apprentice. He married a plump girl from the next town over and raised three happy children. The swordmaster died some years later, largely unmourned. The baker slept well, untroubled by dreams of swords or destiny.

Somewhere, a kingdom languished, but that was a different story.