" Why are we born to live? Why do we live to die?. Life is a mystery that no book can ever truly define ", thought Anais. In the large kingdom of Yadira, under the power of king Darius II, Anais's life was quite insignificant compared to the thousands of people who lived there. At least that was what she thought. Citizens of Yadira are quite insignificant themselves, and that was the truth. There was nothing cheerful neither extraordinarily melancholic about them, they lived the same ordinary lives everyday. Anais preferred to live, she knew others were just existing.

She enjoyed running through the crowds, talking with the birds, and playing with the kids. She thought the flowers were pretty while she danced with the bunnies, and the morning dew on rose bushes made her happy. That was her life, quite poetic and satisfying. However the citizens of Yadira thought it was ditzy and they called her silly thus making her ditzy Anais.

There's at least one hope for everyone out there, one who won't make you feel like an outcast, Someone who will pull you up, bring your confidence up and be that hope for you to continue to be you. For Anais it was his grandfather, who citizens thought was as ditzy as her.

'' Grandpa Murphy! '',

Anais called him, as she ran across the rich green grass moor, towards him, where he was carving another of his rather peculiar wooden statues.

'' Buttercup, come here, look at my new creation, should I call it Diabolov? ''.

Anais realized it really looked devilish enough for him to call it that. The sun was about to set and the pretty moor is starting to look a little creepy, so they decided to get back to their shebang.

'' Grandpa Murphy, there's a question that bothers me ''

Murphy seemed to be a little startled, '' Is it about that? '', he thought to himself as they walked down the crooked rocky road.