The Storytellers Vol. 10

The Storytellers Vol. 10

Every Monday we feature a photo prompt and ask our audience to share their stories to accompany it with us on Instagram. We would love for you to join us and share what each photo says to you. In September we paired stories that reflected the loneliness found in images from our excellent Grryo photographers. Take a moment to drink in the lines that we have here for you and enjoy the photos that inspired them. Storytellers and photographers alike would love to hear your encouragement and comments!



Photo Credit: Valeria
Story Credit: David

Ed waited all day for his ex wife to drop off his daughter Chloe. Surrounded by so many people, but feeling so alone. Once again Ed would spend his birthday in solitude.


Photo Credit: Akiko
Story Credit: Rose

After learning to walk on glass, he sat down and was overwhelmed, not by the accomplishment but by the pain. There was no one that witnessed his feat (feet) and the realization of what he had done really did not matter, he was alone.


Photo Credit: Luis
Story Credit: Joe

Gertrude was the name on her birth certificate but everyone on the street called her “Candy” and those who knew her well called her “Sweet Candy.” She did her rounds morning and night checking on the homeless and occasionally offering oatmeal cookies she made from scratch. The people considered her a saint except for 2 young men who attempted to snatch Candy’s purse and met Candy’s walking stick instead. After one suffered a well-deserved concussion and the other a broken nose, they called her “Candy Cane.”


Photo Credit: Ari
Story Credit: Susan

Lani wished she could simply vanish… melt away into her surroundings. Lured to this location by the mysterious stranger whose texts had instructed her to be in this very place, at this very time, it was completely empty, half dark and half filled with light, and she could not tear her eyes away from the empty screen of her phone. Her dark clothes, her dark mood, in complete opposition to the wall that was holding her up – light, bright, strong. This rendezvous… her racing heart causing a blush to cross her face that looked like anger and her mind moving too fast to make any sense. Lani’s phone remained silent, as if rebuking her impetuousness.

The Storytellers Vol. 8

The Storytellers Vol. 8

Every Monday we ask our audience to share their stories with us on Instagram. We would love for you to join us and share what each photo says to you.



Photo Credit: Veronica

Story Credit: Pam

You can’t be a proper Sugar Plum Fairy without the sugar… pixie stix, M&Ms, skittles, pop rocks. It was all so tempting, so blissfully fun. Giddy, not wanting to lose the euphoria, she kept sneaking back to the candy bowl. But it was that last gummy bear that pushed her from sugar rush to belly ache. The hangover was no fun. “Never!” she thought, “I’m never going to over indulge again. Never!” (until the next time…)


Photo Credit: Nathalie

Story Credit: Tommy

Jericho may have been the youngest in the family but he felt he was the one who had the biggest heart for exploring. He had listened to momma and his two sisters chatter on the long drive. She was telling Shona and Cindra about how it had been almost 26 years since she had last seen the ocean. As momma described the long sandy beach and the pounding waves of the ocean, Jericho sat quietly in the back but inside he couldn’t wait to run and see this magnificent sight. As soon as the car stopped he was out and off like a shot. “If I can just make it to the other side of those bushes and trees ahead,” he thought, “I will be the first of momma’s kids to explore this great new world.”

Photo Credit: Joe Montoya

Story Credit: Tommy Wallace

It’s day 6 of Jenna’s pet photography project and she has decided that cats are not the most cooperative subjects. Jingles won’t ever look at the camera and King Tut is always putting himself on a pedestal. Why couldn’t mom and dad have had dogs.


Photo Credit: Montse

Story Credit: Susan

The Box Trolls have, if nothing else, a deeply genuine love for the human children, and do everything they can to amuse and entertain the kids with their whimsical inventions.

A Day in the Life of Storytellers Circle

A Day in the Life of Storytellers Circle

Storytellers Circle is a wonderful place where lines flow from the creative imaginations of followers in Gryyo’s Instagram group. All of this is spurred on by the inspiring images gleaned from the #wearegrryo and #grryo tags. Join us to experience or contribute to some magical moments.





The Photo Team

Photo: Tony Nahra

Edit: Valeria Cammareri

Now beginning its ninth month, Storytellers Circle on Grryo’s Instagram account has become a weekly feature many anticipate. The formula is simple. An inspiring photo says something to the heart of our followers and those interpretations find their way into the comment section. Some storytellers swoop in for a season and then move on to tell their stories elsewhere. Occasionally some magic happens when a follower threads short lines, only to have someone else add to it. Soon a beautiful tale is woven together to accompany the inspiring image. This happened a few weeks ago so we are featuring the excellent photo/story collaboration that took place then, plus the added treat of Valeria’s inspiration behind the photo.

The Story Team

Jeff Kelley

Rose Sherwood

Nancy Dimock

The Story

A passerby had just told him his shadow had magically taken on an avian form. Did he dare turn around and look? Or would that just prove he was gullible? That one persistent gull followed him back to his home, but something was different. He began to develop a craving for fish. Any kind of fish! It freaked him out because he is allergic to seafood!

The Backstory – Valeria Cammareri

Just a few words about the making of this shot. I have always been impressed by the impact Tony Nahra’s images have on me. What I have often felt is a sense of impending catastrophe, where the only one unaware is the protagonist of the image while the observer perceives the ominous atmosphere. This vague sense of persecution of an innocent is the leading theme of Franz Kafka’s many novels. Kafka, a Jewish writer born in Prague in 1883, in his “Metamorphosis” tells us the story of a traveling salesman who wakes up in his bed to find himself transformed into a large insect. Looking for an edit of one of Tony’s images, my attention was captured by this little man, the innocent, and the proud seagull . So I imagined the transition between what he was going to lose, his human body, and his new condition as an animal with a human soul. That’s what I represent here, and that’s why I called this image “Metamorphosis.”

The Storytellers Vol. 7

The Storytellers Vol. 7

Every Monday we ask our audience to share their stories with us on Instagram. We would love for you to join us and share what each photo says to you.


Photo Credit: Manuel Rguez Hermoso

Story Credit: Susan Peck

The evening had begun to cool off as a breeze from the inlet moved slowly up the streets toward the top of the hill where the mansion sat. “I was just a young man when I came to this island. Now, I am old,” Luther said aloud. There was no one near to hear his lament. He smoked his cigarette in the gathering dusk. The bus, usually a timely presence, was late tonight, and it gave him time to cast his mind back beyond today’s work to a time when he was young and strong, and he could stride straight up the hill to the big House without a loss of breath. Luther coughed after his last draw, and stubbed out his smoke with annoyance. Annoyed to be old. Poor. Tired. As the old bus rumbled around the corner and came to a noisy stop in front of him Luther pulled himself up to face another long night, the kind that only visits the old and tired.

Processed with VSCOcam


Photo Credit: Clara Torrents Canals

Story Credit: Joe Montoya

Vanessa hovered over her youngest as he stubbornly refused to go inside for his afternoon naps. “I’m big like daddy,” Little Nate reasoned.” “Stubborn like daddy too,” Vanessa mumbled under her breath.


Photo Credit: Nige Ollis

Story Credit: David Calvin

John Goodman being pushed by his assistant, was convinced he could be the lead role in Mrs Doubtfire Part II.


Photo Credit: Xaverius Endro

Story Credit: Susan Peck

The Storytellers Vol. 6

The Storytellers Vol. 6

Every Monday we ask our audience to share their stories with us on Instagram. We would love for you to join us and share what each photo says to you.


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Photo Credit: Raphael Gthl

Story Credit: Susan Peck

His book bag was full near to overflowing today. An adventure story for the shy boy. A tale of tragedy followed by triumph for the girl who had lost her Papa to cancer. Her sad eyes haunted him, and he wished he could take a share of her pain away. There was a book of riddles and rhymes for the budding class clown… Abe thought he needed some new, and more suitable material. He imagined their expectant faces, as he carefully made his way, slowly through the town toward the orphanage on the outskirts. He had been one of those children once, after the war. His sole possession from that time was a book his father had pressed into his hands as they were separated on the sorting platform. He had always felt that book had saved him somehow, as he now sought to save this new generation of lost boys and girls, parents lost to drugs, violence, or incarceration.


Photo Credit: Sheldon Serkin

Story Credit: Rose Sherwood

Everyone carries a window with them. At times, it is transparent, at other times it is either translucent or opaque. Its work is to help outsiders look into the depths of humanity; of course, the size of the window is what really matters….


Photo Credit: Graeme Roy

Story Credit: Tony Nahra

He was released from the hospital, but perhaps the medicine was still clouding his mind. Sure, the recovery for his surgery was long, but his teary-eyed loved ones had been by his side, holding his hands and whispering sweet words in his ears. He wondered why they had left and not returned — maybe weeks ago? Just then, he reached for the door and his hand passed right through the handle.


Photo Credit: Bobbie Prosser

Story Credit: Meg Williams

When he came home at night, I turned down the lights and he was mine for awhile. I’d trace the lines around his eyes and wonder what sorrows led him here. I knew I’d never leave him and I knew he’d never stay.