Fakiru Week 2017

Day 7 - Story

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Death is only the end of the story, if you assume the story is about you hence why dead men tell no tales; they believe their tale has finished. Perhaps that is why Fakir does not feel the overt need to pen his own life but rather the memorial of emotions he had once felt. The fakir that was once a knight is all but dead; only memories half brought back by wistfulness and nostalgia.

But, with the ghost of Drosselmeyer, his death was only the beginning. With his spectral form now banished and wandering. By the hope that he never finds a pen once more, it is time for a soft epilogue; a well deserved ending after his torment.

The contentment Fakir finds in his story is odd. Unusual. He doesn't mind. Perhaps the role of the eccentric writer was the one he was supposed to find once he hung up his sword. Perhaps the role of an odd little duck with eyes a touch too human is all Ahiru was ever supposed to be. It's hard, some days, looking into her eyes for Fakir remembers there is a reason why they sparkle with a little bit too much intelligence and sentience. Inside that small form of hers, that small feathered form, was a human once; and a princess and a heroine and a vessel of love and life.

It's fine.

They're not characters in a story anymore therefore, Fakir shouldn't dwell. He shouldn't think himself and her in terms of roles. They are just them. Fakir. Ahiru. For life goes on, one day at a time.

One page at a time. The world continues to spin; the sun rises in the morning and heralds a new day, a new memory to make and a new breath to take. There is a new moment to enjoy and enjoy it Fakir shall. With Ahiru, tiny and vulnerable but content, by his side then Fakir can find peace. He can enjoy the soft epilogue left in the wake of Drosselmeyer's tragedies for he has hope that things can become beautiful once more, even when coloured with despair… there always will be hope.