Wednesday, February 12, 2014

The Water's Edge

The sand felt clammy on her feet in the early hours of darkness.  The world was silent, except for the rhythmic murmur of the ocean as it caressed the shore.  She could have found her way blindfolded, as many times as she had come to the water's edge, but this would be the last time. Kala made her way through the dunes in the darkness; she didn't want anyone alerted to her presence.

Her father's voice sounded in her head, always angry.  The fresh lashes on her back began to throb in time with her pulse as she moved, and Kala allowed her own anger to bubble up from within her.  She curled up her hands into fists, punching at the restraints built up around her life.

A rustling of cloth alerted her to movement, so close to her that Kala held her breath. She would be beaten if found this far from the village, and probably killed.

"Kala?" Her mother whispered softly, and Kala nearly cried.  Tentatively she reached out in the darkness, finding her mother's shoulder, and was instantly pulled into an embrace. Her mother spoke softly in Kala's ear.

"It is ready. You must go now before your father wakes."

Kala's mother pulled her around the last dune, furthest away from the village.  In the last moonlight, she could make out the shape of her mother's secret canoe, and smell the tar used to make it seaworthy.  Tears pouring down her face, Kala turned to her mother, who placed a hand on her daughter's lips.

"This is my gift to you," she whispered.  "I have filled it with food, water. Take it and row until you cannot see the land, and then let the current take you where it may.  And I pray that you find that which you seek, my daughter."

Kala silently kissed the only hand that had cared for her, then began pushing the boat, the rising tide rushing to erase her footprints and send her on her way.  Her life lay beyond the water's edge now.

If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water’s edge.
~Napoleon Hill
Image courtesy of Unsplash.


  1. Oh, how I wish her mother would have gone with her...

  2. Oh, how beautiful this is. A mother's love...

  3. that was the most beautiful thing I've read all week. Being a survivor or childhood violence I could feel those lashes, and that sting. Your descriptions were vivid and perfect.

    The story is one of perfect sacrifice and love, there is no higher place and you gave it words.

  4. You truly breathed life into this and made their love for each other palpable.

  5. You made their love for each other palpable, the mother's sacrifice so real.

  6. So moving!!! Ahhh, thw letting go of ones child is so hard. My time will come when mine grow up.

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  8. Oh this really tugs at one's heart-a mother 's love is always unique and for her the child usually comes first-am glad she had her mother in her corner:-)A beautiful tale TMW!


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