Artur rose from his chair and looked out the window. It was a dark, gloomy night. He had been spending the past days writing his memoir, in the hopes that one day people would remember his name and his accomplishments. A loud rumble in the distance announced a thunderstorm and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He liked the dramatic orchestra of a booming, the-heavens-are-opening-up thunderstorm. He opened the window and looked out to the graveyard that was stretching out ahead of him.

Would anyone ever realize what he had done?