Once upon a time, there lived a man who wrote beautiful stories. Although they were not true in the classical sense, they resonated with unspoken truths and emotions. Those quirky, irresistible stories influenced generations of readers and writers... including me.
He was Sir Terry Pratchett, and he passed away five days ago.
I did not know him personally. I only know his stories, which I love. I read his The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents at a young age and quickly followed it with his Tiffany Aching series. A little bit older, I found the rest of his Discworld books: dozens and dozens of witty, hilarious, heartfelt novels.
He was a giant among fantasy authors, and it pains me to think of the novels we shall never have because of his untimely passing. (If you feel like having a cry, read what his daughter wrote after his death.) But I feel blessed that he left us so many of his wonderful, wonderful stories. Rest in peace, Sir Terry Pratchett.