Farewell, Terry Pratchett - A Fallen Hero

I'm still feeling very emotional about the news of the passing of one of my greatest, if not THE greatest of my literary heroes, Terry Pratchett on the 12th March 2015. So much so, that when I had heard it had happened, I felt a surge of inspiration that could only have come from the man himself, and I was compelled to put figurative pen to paper. What came out is shown below, and it stills brings a tear to my eye.

"The streets of Ankh Morpork were deserted. The flag on the Patrician’s palace flew at half mast. The cityfolk thronged along Temple Street, gathering around a small shrine that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere that very afternoon. They knew it was important, they just weren’t sure why. They just knew they had to be there, to share in...something.

Captain Carrot stood resplendent in his brightly polished armour, Sergeant Colon standing close behind. Corporal Nobbs slouched besides Colon, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“What’s this all about then, Fred?” whispered Nobby. The silence was all around them, pressing in like a thick fog.

“Not sure, Nobby. The Arch-Chancellor at the Unseen University said some cobblers about a major re-al-ity shift. Or summin.” Fred looked up as if the answers could be deciphered from the rainclouds that had also appeared out of nowhere at the same time as the shrine appeared.

Commander Vimes worked his way through the crowd and stood alongside Captain Carrot. “What’s this then, Carrot?”

“No idea, sir,” said the Captain standing perfectly to attention. “Shall I get Sergeant Detritus to move them along sir?”

Commander Vimes shook his head as he made his way over to the shrine. It was very small and simple, made of stone, with a carving embossed on each of its four faces. The carving was of a jolly bearded man wearing spectacles, a large floppy hat on his head. “Is that Rincewind? Has he finally popped his clogs?”

“Don’t think so, sir,” said Carrot. “He’s a survivor. I think it must be someone important.”

At that moment, a faint cry broke the silence. Everyone looked around to try and find the source of the sound. The ground shook beneath their feet. The cry came again, animalistic in origin. Then four great loud trumpets sounded from deep beneath the surface of the Disc.

The trumpeters were the four giant elephants that supported the disc on their mighty shoulders, sitting atop the shell of Great A’Tuin, the world turtle, as she made her way through the great vastness of space on her unending journey. If you looked closely, on her craggy, meteor scarred face, you would have seen a single gigantic tear rolling slowly down her cheek."

When a hero falls, especially one that has had such an impact on your life and the way you view the world around you, you will feel the inevitable sense of grief that comes with the loss that you share with millions of other people who felt the same way that you did. Then there will come the anger that something so precious can be taken from the world while it had so much more left to give it. The acceptance stage in the process, I'm sure, will take a long time to reach.

Reaper Man is my all time favourite Discworld novel, and still is to this day, and it is more poignant than ever now the great man is gone from us. It seems fitting then to end this entry on the final lines of that book. It just seems to fit...

"And Azazel, who knew the secret, said I REMEMBER WHEN ALL THIS WILL BE AGAIN."

Adieu.