RIP Sir Terry Pratchett

I hope Death spoke kindly to Terry when he came for him.

When I was thirteen a friend insisted I needed to read Mort. Since that moment, Terry Pratchett has been a huge part of my life, his words inspiring me to try and find some of my own as well as filling my head with interesting facts, amusing anecdotes and an active appreciation for the wit and wisdom his stories share. The love of the words and the worlds Terry created has outlasted the friendship and, I’m certain, will continue until Death comes for me, too.
When I was sixteen I wrote to him. I can’t remember what I said exactly, but I know that I thanked him for providing me with a world in which I could escape when real life got too much, and tried to express just how much I adored his writing style and the way he held a mirror up to the world, pointing out the darkness there whilst still making me laugh. I must also have said something about loving the use of Latin and other languages because, in the letter he wrote back to me, one of the things he told me was that in the next book I’d find some Arabic, if I wanted to brush up on it. I treasured that letter, still do, in fact, and it’s obvious from all the stories and comments that I’ve seen on twitter today that his generosity of spirit didn’t just extend to answering letters.
I can’t quite believe that there will be no more Discworld books, that Sam Vimes, Granny Weatherwax, Rincewind, Nanny Ogg, Susan, Moist, Tiffany and Vetinari will have no more stories told about them. I am infinitely grateful that Terry was as prolific as he was, that he gave us all so much to remember him by.  I hope he knew how much he meant to us all.
I’m signing off now, as I can’t see the screen for the tears.

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