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"So that's it then. Close the door, lock up shop, and turn out all the lights. The End."
YES.
"I'll miss it."
SO WILL I.
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A/N/t/a/A:
(Author's note to an Author):
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Dear Sir Terry Pratchett,
We've never met, but your literature influenced my life to the point where I can't disentangle the person I am now from who I might have been. Your work influenced my own conceptions of story telling: how to turn perception of its ear and back again, how to mix a lesson in between laughs, how to write a real being into a world so they can keep it spinning.
I'm crying now, not simply because now I shall never have the chance to meet you, but for all the stories which now wait in vain to be told. The words are bleeding back into the ether from whence they came, but I jealously wish to entrap them all in butterfly nets to pin upon my wall like gory prizes wrestled from the abyss. You were generous enough to show your trophies to the world. Thank you.
Now I must catch my own dreams, but I've seen the plots through which you've trod and the verse-full cadences you've shod, so I know I won't be alone.
Thank you for that.
-A.C.
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Sir Terry Pratchett (April 28, 1948- March 12, 2015), a writer among men, a GOD among Discworld.
Check out the wiki page's last paragraph describing his last twitter post, it's just heart wrenching.
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