A Shore Too Far
By Kevin Manus-Pennings
Copyright 2011 Kevin Manus-Pennings
For our Father.
Your death left a hole in the universe and now part of me sits by that hole each day and listens to the air rushing out.
In the fourth month of the Year of Rains, my father returned unexpectedly from his prayer vigils at Ith-Mock and Savrin. I received his summons in the early hours while I met with the general of the Central Guard, my father’s army. When I went to father in his chambers, he still wore his wooden prayer crown while the heavy, jewel-laden crown of state played idly in his hands.
“Kara,” he said as his valet showed me into the room. He spread his arms and gave me the long, lingering hug that I had come to associate with wars and state dinners, the hug of a man stretched by too many things. As he clung to me, the crown of state dug at my back, a sharp point with little mercy. He moved me back from him and suddenly I was glad that it was the light wooden crown that sat on his white hair and not the glittering weight he still held.