The Fallman

Tragedy wasted no time. One horrid mistake, and her father was gone, locked away forever. The cruelty of life then fell to her oldest sister, who frailed under the weight of cancer, and three generations fought to hold strong, keep her alive. But in the wake of fear, the approach of death, the winds of evil stirred, and darkness lit the worlds of imagination, tempting Klara, who only wanted to escape. Close your eyes, and be whisked away was the promise echoed in her mind, and she listened. But the bonds of love pulled her back, breaking its power, but nothing changed. Tragedy was still here, and time was running away.

But Joy would be the defiance of Tragedy. Klara's father came home. If only for a day, he returned, and they were family again. No words. No tears. Just time, time to remember, and time to cherish, and a frail child, Kristyn was whole once more. And there was no tragedy but life, laughter, and love, a power that kept the monsters at bay, but words of revenge still tried to sink in, Reap What You Have Sown. But a family broken would be a family never torn apart, held by love and determination for this October day would be forever theirs, a day to live on in the future memories to come.

As night fell once more, tragedy's final breath, the weight of the world remained, pressing down against Klara. Only seven-years-old, fate rested in her hands. Dream and surrender, or live and struggle through what was to come. "Now or never," the demon hissed, making her think of a glorious adventure, but all that drifted across those soft, desert sands was death. And stories of the olden days, legends past crashed into reality, breaking the façade, and letting her see what truly was there, The Fallman. Only a child could see monsters, but in a heart of strength and fury, she broke free, resisting, falling back into the arms of love. But Tragedy wasted no time.

Loss and Heartbreak could devour family. Its scars would forever remain raw, but with love and joy, time could heal such wounds. Memories would tell of those gone, but it would hold stronger to the ones, where they were alive, allowed to live, and are now finally free to be. And childhood has come to an end, touched by evil, but definition is born. We become through the trials of tragedy, and we are through the heart of family, broken but never to be torn apart, held by love and determination for together we are strong. And time marches on holding us hand in hand, tempting us as we go, but never do we forget the old tales that warn of evils to come, never do we let imagination darken, and never do we allow ourselves to surrender, disappear into a realm beyond our own. We live, and as an older woman, Klara returns in thought to this moment in time, a tale brilliantly written by the author, Don Britt.