Wednesday, August 12, 2015

From the Office of the Archivist...

Dear Archivist,
As the old moon, my time here wanes. I yearn for the day when I can step down and allow the next in line to stand guard. I’ve done all I can to stretch my years here. If it was known the means I’ve gone to in order to extend my time… well, perhaps such information is better not openly admitted.  

Today, I write you with great trepidation. The next Sentinel in line has vanished with no trace of his whereabouts. I’ve searched and consulted with not only the Fay kings and queens, but even the Consortium members, all to no avail.

My heart breaks for the loss of my only blood son. Added to my already heavy burden, is the taking on of Ian’s wife and two children: Malakai and Wyndee Lynn.  The younger girl shows an eagerness to learn about the Fay Realm, and has read my storybooks several times over.  She is naught but ten years, still fanciful and full of whimsy. The elder boy, Malakai, on the other hand is a sore disappointment. His lack of imagination, perpetual sullenness, and constant falling into trouble is a trial for both his mother and myself.

Still, perhaps I judge too harshly. How can I not? My son Ian was an inquisitive lad at this age: creative and adventurous. He found beauty and comfort in the woods surrounding us and spent many hours studying animal and plant life. Unfortunately, his son would rather ride his bike like a rabid bat shooting through those same woods, not caring what damage or harm he might cause. As I said, the exasperating boy can’t seem to look beyond the tip of his petulant little nose, which is usually stuck in some sports magazine.

Ah, enough of my grumblings. I know, my dear friend Archivist, what you would say. Patience is a virtue. We never know what the next day will bring. A diamond is nothing but a dull rock until its cut and polished.

I greatly hope the next gem appears soon. Very soon. I grow so weary.
I will continue to keep you posted on our progress.
Your servant,

Sir Richard