3rd of March, 1915
My dearest Elizabeth,
Tales of grandeur light the world with their grand heroes and fantastical battles, whimsical dwarves, and impeccable elves. Heroes become victorious; villains defeated. However, not all tales are like those, where everything is grandiose and good, ending in love and peace. Some tales are darker, exploring the underbelly of our minds. And I mean our, Elizabeth. Join me on my adventure as I tell the tale of a little fellow by the name of Kemnas.
Growing up in the forests of Grenare, he was secluded from the outside world. Most inhabitants of his world dared not enter the woods as there were tales spun of that forest. Dark tales of monsters and witches and curses. Kemnas thought those people doltish, he had never before seen any monsters in his home. However, this left him and his family isolated from the rest of the world. Not only did no one venture into the woods, but any person seen passing through the dark, twisting trees, were shunned and forced back in.
The seclusion was not as bad for Kemnas and his family though, neither was it for the others living with them. No one had bothered to leave for many years, as they saw how futile it was. This was their home, for generations upon generations to come and they were happy with it. They lived close together in an opening, right in the middle of the forest. Their houses were quaint and homely, always filled with wondrous smells and the laughs of children. There was not a single day when the sun did not smile upon the inhabitants of Grenare.
Speaking of the sun, once a day they would all meet up at the center of their village. As the clock struck noon, the sun would be right over them, shining its bright rays of luck and life onto the people. This had been a tradition for years and was never skipped. The one time they did skip it, during a raging blizzard, the worst of luck fell upon them. Later, after many a storm, they had learned that no matter how bad the weather was, no matter how many clouds that covered the sky, the sun would always peek out from the blanket of sorrow to bless the forest dwellers.
The last day of spring was dark, clouds covering the sky and their sun. A storm seemed to be brewing. They all stayed inside that day. The children grew restless as the day went on, waiting for their gathering in the center. The parents all stood by, chatting of the presumed rainfall that would appear in a short time. It was close to noon, one minute to, to be exact. The clouds had started to dissolve, as they always did around that time. They all gathered around the center, holding each other’s hands and happily awaiting the arrival of their blessing. As they all looked up to their beloved sun they gasped, for there was no sun. No luck-bringing rays of light. Just empty skies. Just darkness.
I miss you,