From the begining of the human existence there has always been hope. It isn't always visible, it isn't always spoken of, but it is always there. When times get tough, when the world around starts to fall apart, hope is there. You may think that those times are the times when hope is nearly invisible, but you'd be wrong. From cracks in the sidwalk, to breaks in the human heart, hope glimmers. Hope shines, and hope gleams. These small breaks, these small cracks are what make hope so apparent, because there are millions of them. You cannot go a single foot without there being a small fraction of hope shining through. Looking into yourself, you will be able to see that hope. Why? Because you are still moving foward, you are still going on, you are still alive, and kicking. If you could just take a moment to stand where you are, and go within you would see how far you've truly come. You would see what hope has enabled you to overcome. Hope is the most visible when times are the most frightful. This, my friends, is what my mother told me. Long, long ago, when I was just a young child in a true time of darkness. We refer to those times as the time of the great death. I grew up in the time of the great death, and I grew up never knowing if I would make it through that day. My mother, my father, and my family however, did not grow up during those times. They grew up when the world was still shining, although not as bright as one would hope. My elders expeirenced the difference of living, and surviving. This enabled my mother to truly know what hope was. Much is known about the time of death, but there are next to no stories of the brave people who lived through them. Just the accounts the children born can give of their lives growing up. There are so few of us remaining though, that it seems accounts of the time of death may fade into obscurity. I am not sure whether my account will make a difference, as I have already given it, but my mother's account may be the one to save it from obscurity. It was only a month ago that I found this torn, tattered, leather book my mom wrote her life's story in. After reading it, I was not only enlightened but devistated. The pain, the torture that my elders went through, is unbelievable. It it with great sorrow that I enscribe the book as it was written, because I can feel the pain from within in the book. With every stroke of a pen I can feel the anguish, and suffering that my mother felt as she scribbled her life onto these pages. This is the story of Annie Dixon and my family.