"Everyone is necessarily the hero of his own life story."
~John Barth~
It was dark outside. The wind blew and somewhere on a tree an owl was hooting. It was cold. There was a small cottage at the edge of the forest. A little girl was crying and light turned on in one of the rooms.
In the house a woman went to the crib.
"Hey sweatheart. What's wrong?" She whispered. "Everything is okay. Dad will be home soon." she murmured and started to hum a lullaby.
The baby soon fell back asleep. The house became silent. And that night a long journey had begun.
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