Footsteps sparkled in the sun, impressions in the soft wet sand filled by spray from the roaring surf.

He bent knee as a salty breeze pulled gently at a few wild strands of hair. The red plastic cup was battered but bright in his fingers, and he dipped it into the rising tide.

Triumphantly, he held aloft his glittering prize, marveling at the play of light on water. “There is nothing I do not control,” he whispered.

His words were lost in a dull roar. Behind him, the sea continued to swell, unabated.

She sighed elaborately and peered up at me. “So life is just a game.” Her smile was tentative, brittle.

I considered the matter no longer than a moment. “Some people make it that way. It doesn’t have to be.”

My words had opened some lock, unburdened some weight. She squared her shoulders and leveled her gaze. “It doesn’t have to be,” she repeated. “It doesn’t have to be.”

The cold was bitter. White flakes fell gently, not enough to blanket the countryside except in the most symbolic of senses. Amid the falling snow harsh voices shouted out into the air, guns discharged, and cannon thundered.

They came, in twos and threes, black-suited, and stark white, the Princess stepped out from among them. She had gone without her parasol and bonnet: white she stood, hair uncovered to the snow. The people would understand. Alone she stood, a single, blinding white candle in an army of shadows.

The people came, and gathered. There were words, and at a certain time, the heavy black covering over a slab of stone was thrown back. The people were silent, and appreciated it. Then they left, trickling away.

The Princess stood sleeveless in the snow until the last of them had gone, and simply faded out.

Then there was only the stone.

Reprinted from August 2008. All rights reserved.

People were receiving and not grateful

People were hated and not hateful

I was talking to an old friend whose wounds had never healed

He counseled me to wait, to have the patience of steel

But we talked about the waters, and we talked about the rope

and he toasted me thus: To everlasting Hope.

You must accept risk to gain reward.