Untilted

A swift whisper of wind haunted the lost, forgotten forest . The only one that could recall its past was the loose almost nonexistent grip of the silent breeze who told the story to every rock, leaf, and stream it touched across its journey through the world. But the wind who had held the story in its soul for so long was weakening and couldn't carry on telling for much longer.
Everything man has ever written, began by the same silent spark found in their dreams when their mind was able to communicate with nature. A weak breeze would murmur a tale, and if so inclined, the individual who had dreamed the story would wake up and draw it out on paper so that it could be documented for longer than the wind was able to blow the tale by itself.