The pen is an instrument of torture, and relief With each stroke it pulls, twists, and rips at the heart. Mind over muscle, muscle over thought. Something so small, yet so terrible. Thoughts of gray become light, and the sweetest of meadows become filled with thickets and thistles. And the wind blows to and fro, and stops for silence. All this from a pen stroke ... A single pen stroke

What’s the point of such a fearless night? The moonlit waves crashing on the shore, and yet nothing ... nothing .... abysmal dry docks on the horizon. And yet nothing more and nothing less. In a quiet time. A quintessential truth for a Quintessential man. That Life is Strange, with its twists and turns and gaps in the road. Days filled with love and terror. Electrifying emotions. Fearfully dreadful and vast in number. It pains the very bottom of the soul. Where dreams and fog dance across the memory. Where the effigy of true existence is burned away by the burdens of mortality. Look, come and see! What stupendous sights and sounds await the woeful observer. On the edge, a cliff. And over the cliff? A free fall .... A jump in the canyon, a wingless flight to the cold hard depths, where neither time passes nor rewinds. The edge between life itself and the eternal. And he knew all these things and cared not. For that was it. That was always it. That was the point of such a fearless night.

It talked to me, the dreadful thing. The things it said, I couldn’t bear. The wind was howling, as my feet were running. The fog came settling in from the east. I hopped into my car. “I know I shouldn’t have played with that thing” I shouted, throwing the spirit board into the back seat. I wasn’t driving for very long before I heard the dreadful thing shuffle beneath my feet. “I am here” it said from somewhere underneath my seat. “Let’s Talk” it growled.

Shadows form in the absence of the sun The gleaming moon present on the horizon Trees dancing to an empty sound. Their leaves fluttering off in the wind. Tonight no howl is present from the midnight wolves. No reassurance from the crickets that all is well. The sound of the ocean is but a fond memory. Tonight something is different. Tonight the world is hollow. It is empty. No rhythm for comfort As I walked through that valley of death and approached my general, I didn’t feel. I couldn’t hear. It was I that was hollow; I that was empty. Words were useless here. I handed my general the letter. Motionless he read it. No sounds dared leave his mouth. Lighting a smoke, he handed the letter back to me and nodded. He sent me on my way. As I walked back to our encampment over countless of our fallen countrymen. I read the letter myself. TO GENERAL ROSEN CEASE ALL OPERATIONS. THE WAR IS OVER. RETURN TO CAMP TO AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION. September 2, 1945

I now understand ... That Life is wonderful. Strange but wonderful. With its complexities. Its eccentricities. So memorable and yet so fast. It’s value is priceless The Memory of the mind, it’s medium It gives and takes. True to its form. Birth and death Light and shadow Rain and the the ever magnificent sun. Life makes its own way. And this is the beautiful wisdom of it all. I finally understand... Life makes its own way.

“I am happy”, she thought to herself as she swung to and fro. High above the city streets, and the Tanica plains. In the shadow of the excelsior mountains, she swung, to and fro. Her feet dangled off the wooden swing. “It so beautiful”, she whispered. The light breeze swirled around her bringing with it the sweet smell of the fairacel blooms. Their orange and red petals fluttering in the wind, as they danced by the swing. “I could spend an eternity up here, looking over the city” she said. “It still wouldn’t be enough time”, she smiled. In her old life, she was a baker. Something she had always despised, but a lack of opportunity, and family traditions ensured that she learned the trade. Her eyes exhausted, glistened in the now setting sun, as she moved through the air. “Today is a different day”, she thought. “Something feels different” “The last thing I remember before getting on this swing, was that I fell to the floor” “In fact I don’t remember getting on this swing” Silently she pondered her circumstances. Still swinging to and fro. “This is so beautiful, but it can’t be real” “It feels like a pleasant dream” From somewhere inside, an unease began to grip her, and her movements became more shallow. The swing drifting to a stop. No more power was given to it, for its occupant was now sitting motionless, bathed in wonder and fear. “Why did I fall?”, she murmured. “There must be a reason” Concentrating with all her might she began “I was running from something ... or someone” “I remember, I didn’t want to go back, I couldn’t go back. It was Father who was chasing me”, she whispered. A wave of nervousness overcame her. “ I remember now. I tripped and fell. My head hurt so bad and the rock...”, she stopped. Looking out over the city from the seat of her swing, she realized that she was now much higher above the ground then before. “Don’t be afraid”, a booming voice echoed from every direction. The voice was that of thunder, and it gripped her with fear as she clung to the cables of her swing. “What is is this?” She demanded, her voice quivering with panic. “Who are you?”, she shouted, looking in every direction. No Response The moon now rising in the sky, bathed the world in its glow as the last glimpses of sunlight dipped below the horizon. “Where are you?”, She cried. “Up here”, the voice bellowed. Looking upwards, she saw that the cables of the swing were not tied to a tree, but rather to a man. The man was flying upwards, pulling her swing higher into the sky He was dressed in linen robes that glimmered in the moonlight, and had wings like that of a falcon. “What are you?” She shouted. “I must be losing my mind. This is a dream. It must be a dream or I’m losing my sanity”, She thought. “Neither is true” the mans voice echoed. Below the woman, the last few glimpses of the ground were fading from her vision, as the swing was pulled higher into the sky. “In life you were kind, and cared for those around you. You tried to make the best of difficult circumstances and did the best that you could. But now it is time” the man’s voice echoed. “You are dead, and I have come to take you to your eternity. Do not be afraid for your death is already done, now it is your time for eternal life” Looking up towards the man she could see a light emerging from the clouds. “I understand, and I’m ready”, she thought. “Sir thank you for taking me, but may I ask one more thing? , She asked. “What is it daughter of man?”, he replied. “When you come for my father, please grant him kindness. Though he was a hardened man to his children I truly believe in my heart he meant well.” “Daughter of man, you are kinder to your father than he deserves. For it was his unwillingness to let you pursue your own life, that led your demise”, his voice bellowed. “Daughter of man. All people make choices in life, and your fathers are his own. But today you will see the ultimate kindness, for all that you have done.” The light now encompassing the pair in its heavenly rays ... and then silence.