Frederick Crow, who personally caused a renaissance in the world of fairy tales. He illuminated the modern era with his captivating style of breaking the stereotypes of fairy tales, yet managed to retain their soul. His mind wove intricate stories of romance adventures. His fame soared to unprecedented heights. They captivated millions of readers worldwide. Yet, amidst the euphoria of his literary triumphs, a shadow loomed over his own narrative. At the tender age of 45, Frederick found himself ensnared by the cruel grasp of young dementia, his once brilliant mind gradually succumbing to the relentless march of time. The vibrant hues of his imagination began to fade, casting a pall of desolation over his cherished creations.By now his trembling hands struggled to transcribe the fleeting remnants of his brilliance. The typewriter’s once melodious rhythm faltered into a hesitant ticking. Despite his desperate attempts to conceal the ravages of his condition, the truth lay bare before him – mortality’s icy grip tightening with each passing day.Yet, within the labyrinth of his mind, his creations danced amidst an eternal midsummer revelry, oblivious to the encroaching decay of their world, and themselves. They frolicked and sparred, living out their timeless tales with neverending enthousiasm. And in that center of his mind, they stayed shielded from the specter of their creator’s demise, until now. How long would they stay oblivious of the slow disappearance of familiar faces or the gathering gray clouds on the horizon? They reveled in a neverending dance of storytelling, where ‘The End’ is marked only by a pause, never a forever ending of their existence.