'Father?' she says, flying through the clouds. She knows he will not answer. He never has, not at any point as the world has grown older. She neither knows nor in fact believes that he might be out there listening to her, for a cloud shifts and gathers and rains itself out many times over the course of a single day let alone a world's lifetimes, and even the daughter of a cloud cannot tell one from another.
They might be her father. They might just be clouds. They are not her father. They are clouds.
Yet still, 'Father?' she says.
She says nothing further, unsure of what her question might be. Her head is filled with the volcano, with arguments they have never had, defeats of him she has never achieved, the final sweet forgiveness she can offer as she grants him his last wish of a release he has not asked for.
She flies through the clouds, letting the drops of moisture cool her brow, wet her clothes in sweet relief, soothe the aching muscles of her flying.
All the while, her father watches her, whispering her name only when she has finally left the clouds and is too far away to hear it.
YOU ARE READING
The Crane Wife and the Volcano
General Fictionthis is not my story, it belongs to the great book "The Crane Wife", by the amazing writer Patrick Ness. this story explains the life of one of the main characters, called Kumiko (aka the crane wife), told by herself in 32 parts. even though there...
