Short story inspired by the passing of Terry Pratchett


“Well, it’s happened,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Our old man has taken that last walk with Death.”

Nanny Ogg patted herself all over. “But we’re still here. How can that be? I thought we’d all go ‘puff’ and disappear like foam on a beer.”

Granny nearly smiled, and said, “Too many people believe in us, or want to believe in Discworld. It’s like he wrote … while people are still talking about you, you are not really gone.”

“Then he will never be really gone, will he?” asked Nanny hopefully. “People’ll be talking about him a hundred years from now.”

“Exactly. Which means we still have a job to do.”


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