Once upon a time there was a story. It was a little thing, small enough to hide under a chair or inside a tea cup, but it was powerful all the same. It could be warm and fuzzy with gray green fur or form into a dark blue blob and slide itself under doors.
"Once upon a time, the world was created with words."
And that was enough. It would curl up like a kitten at a child's feet and whisper, once upon a time, the world was created with words, and the child would start to dream of the words he knew and the world he could create and how things would be. And the child would grow up and change the world with his words, creating a new world with each syllable.
And so many such children grew up, and so many such children created worlds with their words, but, alas, they had forgotten what the story had whispered to them and they did not know their own power.