Simon Auclair's Questionnaire

I live in the town of Burlington, Vermont. There I reside in a small apartment with my adorable cat, Stelle. I moved here about 8 years ago since this is where Milos and I had agreed on, somewhere close enough to family to visit for a weekend but far enough for some privacy. Neither of us enjoyed the bustle of a metropolitan city so a smaller town had suited us. Without him, my one bedroom apartment is a cluttered mess. All empty space is filled with boxes of some of my previous fantasy novels, shelves of old trinkets I haven't had the heart to throw out, and of course plenty of toys for Stelle. My desk, located by a window overlooking the streets below, is where I usually spend my time. Across it's surface are written, discarded, and rewritten drafts that have lost the spark of passion I still quietly yearn for.

Luckily, I still receive royalties from the novels I had written years ago. They've been more than enough to sustain me for now, but I know I'll still need to write something new eventually. Without Milos here to help... well, I suppose I don't have a contingency plan in mind. Most of my money has gone into savings to give me as much time as possible to find that joy for writing again. Though I do treat myself to a lovely pastry and coffee when I feel up for it and I make sure Stelle gets her own treats and toys whenever one catches my eye. 

I've seen the fallout that an early grave can cause. It leaves those left behind in a miasma of grief so inescapable that it resonates through the essence of one's being, impossible to ignore. I know I am not alone in these feelings. I know my torment is not unique. I became an author to spread stories of hope and courage, if I could rewrite the rules of death so that no one ever has to experience the pain and misery that permeates within my very soul then I'd gladly risk my own life to do so. I couldn't in good conscience risk the lives of others but maybe... if I were to achieve my goal the death of others could be rewritten. I am not afraid of death, I simply wish to change it. 

The day Milos died has been forever etched into my mind. I was told it had been an accident. When I woke that day, late like any other, I knew something was wrong. The usual melody of pots and pans in our kitchen had been silent, the almost otherworldly aroma that only Milos cooking seemed to achieve hadn't lingered like it should, even Stelle who was usually as lazy as me had been anxiously prattling around the apartment... I should've have gone to find him. I should've called someone to help me search. I could've done anything else besides simply texting him, a simple message hoping he was having a good day out there. I was told that it was an accident, his body found in a mangled mess on the side of the trail, no explanation besides he had simply been in the wrong spot and the wrong time.

I carry his absence with me everywhere I go. Without him, my pen has lost the ink in which my words of joy we're written.

My mother Eloise Auclair - A romance novelist who helped inspire me to write my own stories at a young age. Despite the more risque elements in her stories she always skipped over those parts when she read me her works as a child. She's always had a passion for story telling and has ingrained in me that everyone has a story to tell. Without her pushing, I would've never had the courage to get my own writing published. 

My father Jean Auclair - Most would assume my taciturn father was void of most emotion but both mom and I can see through that facade. He deeply cares for our family and has always helped me through the most difficult times of my life in a way that others haven't. I don't know what it is about him, but his quiet understanding and support has always granted me comfort. 

My sister-in-law Irina Novikov (closest) - We grew much closer since Milos' death. She even went out of her way to move to Burlington in order to be closer to Milos resting place. She's made sure to make plans to get me out of the house at least once a week. She says she simply enjoys our conversations, I know it's so she can check I haven't completely fallen apart yet. Despite that I know she does enjoy my company and I'm eternally grateful for her presence. It's thanks to her I have the courage to go out into the world again.