There was a boy who wrote stories all the time; random ones that came to him about far off adventurers, pirates, astronauts, time travelers, and ancient civilizations that descended from the stars. But he was always searching for his story — that one story his soul was aching to tell, but couldn’t find its voice.
He devised a way to listen to his soul’s incessant glossolalia: a tiny caterpillar that could crawl into the caverns of his soul. Then the caterpillar could relay the story back. Unfortunately this was easier said than done.
The caterpillar returned to his ear and whispered in its squeaky little voice the story his soul had to tell. He could only hear fragments of the caterpillar’s frail little tale, as its coherence was lost along the difficult trek.