Once upon a time, there was a boy that liked to draw. He never felt free to own his desire fully. Call it God. Call it fate- when the boy was well into his adult life- He was sent a woman. She was not a part of his plans. He couldn’t resist her. She loved him for his darkness. She loved him for his light. She loved every shade between. He gifted her with promises, poetry and art. She adored him. With every word, with every plan and every sketch- She loved him more. Together, they started writing a fairy tale. Each chapter sweetened a bit more. He drew. He painted. He created her a world with fine lines and vibrant colors. She watched him draw. He amazed her. She studies his eyes when he created such beautiful images. She learned him, more than any woman ever had. She covered her world with his art. The fairy tale grew close to the final words. The artist and his fate stood ready to write the words, “Happily Ever After” when the timid boy consumed the soul of this man. He was too close to owning his desires. He was too close to everything he ever wanted. His fears bound by the strings of a tainted violin. He vanished and cowered inside the shell of the little boy that liked to draw. She stood there. Waiting. The colors faded in the world he created for her. But she waited. She played the songs of the artist trying to call him back. The crowds grew around her as they waited for more of the fairy tale. She waited for her artist. She waited for him to Claim His Fate. To claim her. His muse.