It was all fine, everything was going to be fine….it should be, he attempted to convince himself this over and over. He had no other choice, rather he had to do this, for himself and her. Though he would never have imagined that the end would have gone how it did.

        William was a person who had simple desires, which was to be able to provide enough for his family. It wasn’t too ambitious of a desire, but rather a noble and understandable one, all for the sake of his daughter, his pride and joy. However, this desire wasn’t an easy one, he was too weak for labor work, too slow for work that required haste and yet he did all he could to bring back enough gold to survive the day. His passion aside from his daughter was for his books. He believed that he could be able to a great many works like those of long past so that he could provide a comfortable life for his daughter, and that he could be there for her too. It was so that he wouldn’t make the same mistake…as his presence wasn’t there when his wife had most needed him at her worst times, and at her last.

However, times were difficult, for his books would not sell, for his experience in writing was inadequate compared to the skills of the many other authors had gained over the years. William was naïve, but he had hope for his books, for he would spend the nights for his books, the days looking for work while finding the themes to write for his novels. His days would often be fueled with hope, always in search of work, research and his compassion for his daughter would keep him motivated. However, time was not kind to mankind, for it will continue to pass with or without the compassionate writer. Days would turn to weeks, weeks to months, and then eventually to years, for he was still poor, tired and his compassion for his books eventually reduced to dust. Yet, despite the years that have passed, he still had faith…faith in his books, that eventually his investments made from his stubborn hope for his books will lead to success. However, William would fail to realize that there was indeed a difference between hope and compassion for without compassion, the stories weaved into his books had turned bland, no longer holding the dreams nor the tales that would bring happiness, but now only held the hopes of his salvation.

To William, failure was not acceptable, to give up was not an option, he must eventually succeed with enough effort, as he knew no strong will or luck. could save a starving child. As time continued to pass, there remained no sight nor sign or success, for him and his books, he would eventually be driven mad. He would lock himself away, writing away, his passion for his stories gone without a trace, his kind smile no longer there, he remained there stuck in his own world, all for the sake of his daughter.

This monstrous perseverance and yet stubbornness would lead William to neglect his daughter, leaving her so pitifully alone with her fears, the very loneliness that he had wished for her to be rid of... the loneliness, which was the very reason for his hope and the lost compassion for his books. Nothing had mattered anymore, for as long as he could provide for her…he did all for her. That was what he told himself, to keep himself sane, so that he could give her hope and tell her that everything was going to be alright. Despite his efforts to keep his hopes and sanity, time was a cruel element, for as long as this cycle of tragedy would continue, he could only do so much but be driven further and deeper into the abyss known as madness.                      

        Sarah was her name, and she was William’s greatest pride and joy, and nothing could ever break the familial bond between them, but fate had different plans for them. She knew, William was a man, who had no talent to show, no strength to use, frankly a weak yet kind man. However, His kindness couldn’t help him with his lack of talent in his stories, and so he lived in poverty, his only hope remained in the stories for the sake of his daughter, as she was his only motivation to live on. Whereas Sarah, a child of innocence and kindness, had not cared for such things, such as money, fame nor for housing, all she cared about was for her father’s happiness and would love her father all the same. Which was why she could see the despair and the madness growing in his eyes, in his face, and his mind. She loved her father’s stories and would often ask for William to read them out aloud to her, she would love his tone for that was when he sounded the most excited, the happiest, and the most hopeful. However, she could tell…that her father was growing desperate, his passion degrading, his voice losing its excitement, the happiness, and eventually his hope. She was forced to see this man, who she called her father, return to their nest, with the failure of his books and his guilt showing on his face. Sarah knew the meaning of her father’s distraught looks, but held no contempt for his failures, and would only comfort him, and with this, he would again have the motivation to continue, as he thought to himself “All for the sake of Sarah, nothing else matters, my books must succeed”. However, despite his efforts, he would always return home each night tired, dejected, and with dread, carrying back his unsuccessful books, his drafts, and his pride.

        Sarah, a child so kind, could not let this continue, she was distraught to see her beloved father going further deeper and deeper into the abyss, and so she ventured out into the town and the struck of dawn, in hopes of finding something, anything that could bring hope and passion back to her father. However, the world was a cruel place, and before she could see the beauty of the lively markets and the grins of the people out in the streets, she had to first see the ugliness of the cruel world.

        She toured the bleak town, that welcomed her with the sounds of yelling and arguing in the markets, the sight of violence and blood spilled onto the streets. The little girl knew, that this world was no longer the same kind world that was written in her father’s stories, so she ran. She ran in fear for her life, her heart beating fast like never before, her mind in a confused state at the sight of the cruel world. She ran into the alleys to hide, from the ugliness that the town had to offer, but she had made a mistake, for she had only gone deeper into the belly of the beast. Before the little girl could notice, crows circled her from above, and cawing at her, almost sounding like screaming and maniacal laughter mixed creating an ugly noise that would haunt the dreams of any naïve fool to hear it.

        Unfortunately, for this naïve and kind-hearted child, this nightmare was far from over, as it all happened too quickly. The Cruel world was so unforgiving and it had to punish her naivety, but…. She was so young, a child so innocent, she knew no evil nor had any idea of such a hideous concept. She was lured into a dark alley, the crows flew above her watching, as if knowing of her cruel future, and the innocent child walked into something that would seem like hell.

        Two strangers, insane and the great definition of evil, with such malicious grins on their faces. They lured her, tortured her, and violated her. Her fingers were broken and torn, her limbs twisted in ways she could never imagine, she bled all over, she was in pain and confusion. She screamed in fear, scared and alone, and her only company the crows. Her cries couldn’t stop her pain or her bleeding, her end was near, and yet in her last moments, she saw something that gave her hope in the cruel world again, her father stood grinning, as he now had a story to use for his books, and he had watched everything from the beginning to the end.

She smiled at her father, glad that she could see her father smile again before the light left her eyes. This was a sin of innocence, for the girl who lived in such a cruel world and her persistent beliefs in father’s kindness and William would face the sin of deception, for which he would mutter endlessly to himself “It was all fine, everything was going to be fine”, and that he did it all for his daughter, and not for his selfish passion and stubborn dreams, for this was the ‘Writer’s Lie”.