'Sonata For Merrianne' is currently being rewritten. Here is a a peak at what it will hold. The original can still be found under 'Midnight Sun'

We have been told that we are creatures full of song,
Creatures full of stories,
And the stories are ancient ones.
And they are brand new-
as new as what happened to me today and how I feel at this moment.
When I open my arms, I am the most beautiful bird.
A bird that is in fact a jet plane.
A bird that is capable of sorrow in the most lyric flight.
This bird is capable of holding a knife and slashing your motherfucking throat.

-Bill T. Jones
Last Night on Earth



Her mother used to play that song. The one she was playing earlier. Earlier when I happened upon the small drawing room in the southernmost end of our castle. The only end of the castle still safe enough to inhabit. Her mother used to play that song.

Not two hours have passed since you left me. Since you left me with my answer of no. But you knew better. You knew that the attraction of pen on paper is too much for me to ignore. Or did you know she would be playing that song? Did you know that I would hear and change my mind?

I've decided to name this document, or book, as you would have it, Sonata for Merrianne. Though you asked it to be about me, I find it hard to remember my life before her. The voices are all the same, the voices I've lived with all my life, and though this book strives to be a personal historical document, the events are reported as I lived them and now, many years later remember them.

How this came to be is still somewhat of a mystery to me.

Was it the song our marred daughter played so innocently on the Terran piano? As I think of her now I know she is the last and the best of me.

I have numerous books that litter the royal library and library's on other pathetic planets like mine, but those aren't real anymore. This is real. This is life. Not books on war and strategies, and people once living as we perceived them. Maybe that's why.