The Creator's Almanac: Volume One

During my last moment of consciousness, my sore body resting in the snow, I couldn't shake the thought of my father. Had he seen this sorry scene, he would have laughed.

I heard that he laughed when I was born.

I can't remember everything from when I was young, but I've had the story retold to me.

My father was devastated at first; he wanted a son instead. All he could do was laugh in the face of disappointment.

Devastation soon turned to anger.

He didn't stay with us long, leaving only to drop by once every few months. He didn't want me to be seen, fearing the supposed shame brought on by the presence of a daughter.

That, coupled with my mother's fears, only strengthened my isolation. Demons roam the streets of Manna, and the king of Manna despises those that fail to conform. She wanted to keep me safe, so I could never leave.

In the small world of my home, with no outside and no other connections, my existence began to revolve around the visitor, my father. I wanted nothing more than to see him visit the house happy, impressed, or even proud.

"I disavow the name Artaith." I said one day.

"Oh?" He chuckled.

"You wanted a man, so I'll become one. My name is Arthur now. Art."

And even though he always laughed or shouted at everything, that was the first time I saw him smile.

At the time, I could never have predicted my future. A family grew, one proud to call me their own, and with it rose a sliver of hope. A demon banished from hell, a photographer who barely escaped the town that turned against her, and me, a human being with the odd ability to read people's thoughts.

We could finally see liberation on the horizon.