Denouement

        When I returned home, my Father was weak; weaker than he had ever been before. I stared at his crumpled body, resting lightly on his deathbed. His skin was pale and taught, his hair was thin as candy floss, yet his eyes still retained their beamish glow. 

        Tears threatened to pour from my eyes. “F-Father,” I said. “I did it. I killed the beast.”

        The old man’s eyes drifted toward me, never truly meeting my gaze. “I know, my boy,” he murmured, clutching the spike that now lay on his chest like a trophy. “I know.”

        His eyes slowly closed as he fell into eternal sleep.