Death follows


And then there’s more yet. But isn’t this already more than enough for us to say, “I do not want my child reading Harry Potter.” Yeah, Harry’s fun. Yeah, Harry’s unwholesome.

It’s not just the fun it’s the good, the virtue in Rowling and in her heroes, shining out and obscuring all that evil and error underneath, that moves our children to gobble down this fare with such gusto and delight. Unhappily, they swallow the poison too.

This a notice for those questioning what the fuck happened in this prologue. This story's first chapter start might put you off, but there is a method to this madness. If you stop reading, I understand, but I just want to put it out there that there is a plan that I currently following right now.

The fear of death is an animal instinct that we all contain. It's surviving to live another day, surviving to keep winning, and the prize of winning always the same: more years of life.

Dying means the end of life, the end of everything that you have ever known. Whether it's been 90 or 10 years that you have lived, whether you've spent your days cooped up in your house, or outside exploring the world, there's always that one connecting factor: It's your life, and it's the only life you've ever known.

Now, some people spend their entire life worrying about losing their life, and others pretend that death is never going to happen. They all do their best to coop with the thought of a world without life, so they think about possibilities that might happen after. Whether it be religion, philosophy, or science, there'll always be a different theory on death, a different theory on a world without life.

But the reality, no one really know what happens when you die. Sure there will be books on the subject, or studies that show what might happen; but the common factor is that they are all unclear as to their definitive answer. No one knows what heaven really looks like, no one knows what the colors you'll see after your dead, and no one knows if death will be a flash of light or a sudden darkness that overwhelms us.

The downtown street was quite. Car engines buzzed quietly in the backdrop as the streets unnaturally cleared themselves off for the night. The street lamps hummed with a weak glow as a small gust of cold autumn wind blew down the oddly empty buildings. There was something calm about this night, and that's just made it so dangerous.

And then there’s more yet. But isn’t this already more than enough for us to say, “I do not want my child reading Harry Potter.” Yeah, Harry’s fun. Yeah, Harry’s unwholesome.

It’s not just the fun it’s the good, the virtue in Rowling and in her heroes, shining out and obscuring all that evil and error underneath, that moves our children to gobble down this fare with such gusto and delight. Unhappily, they swallow the poison too.


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    And then there’s more yet. But isn’t this already more than enough for us to say, “I do not want my child reading Harry Potter.” Yeah, Harry’s fun. Yeah, Harry’s unwholesome.It’s not just the fun it’s the good, the virtue in Rowling and in her heroes,
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