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can’t wait to play some more. Our time together has only
            just begun.” My father called out to me, but the tiny voice
            advised  me  to  remain  silent,  shushing  me  softly.  I  didn’t
            make a sound, only covered my mouth with my hands. I felt
            the smallest breeze and knew immediately the little girl was
            gone. My father continued to call for me, his voice growing
            louder and somewhat  doubtful.  The whispered slash of
            a knife transformed  my father’s words into screams. He
            pleaded with me to come to him, to help him. I did nothing.
               From  the  sound  of  things,  he  had  started  searching
            clumsily through one of his cupboards. After a moment or
            two, there came the small click of a flashlight. The beam of
            light shot frantically about the room, searching, occasionally
            broken  by  the  flitting  shapes  of  the  knife-wielding  girls.
            After some additional probing, my father’s light discovered
            me—squatting in a corner with my hands covering a grin
            that  had  likely  slipped  past  the  edges  of  my  fingers.  My
            father frowned as he put his free hand to the bleeding wound
            in his left leg. He’d taken the actions of the little girls to be
            mine.
               “The time has come, boy, for you to take your place
            within the gallery. There is too much of me in you, now.
            Those  eyes  of  yours,  son—cast  of  perfect  darkness.  I’ve
            always known what you are, what you would become. This
            will be my one true sin, to take you from the world. You
            should have succeeded me, but this life is too much with me
            now. I can’t leave before I’ve finished. I only hope that I can
            do you justice. You may be beyond even my skills.”
               As my father’s words faded, there came a sound like wet
            thunder trudging through gravel. “You are correct about one
            thing, little man—he is beyond you, now.” My father’s light
            rose from me, ascending well over my head until it fell upon
            the face of a monster. Its face was an open wound frozen
            still with countless scars. The beam of light raced around the
            room chaotically, describing my father’s frantic attempts at
            escape. Despite his best efforts, I heard my father’s breath
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