The Spear Cuts Through Water

by Simon Jimenez

It would become a thing he could return to in his mind when he pleased, elaborating on the details, giving life to the still image, and in this way it would become his, for this was the fate of all fantasy.

DAYUM

I would’ve kicked the little bastard into the dirt, had he not just come from a wagon of the Throne.

Reading all sides of the story makes for such an incredibly engaging story when it's told like this!

all he saw was Raami, pointing to the crowd in challenge, and Araya, standing on the wall, watching over them all with her drunk smile, and even Vogo, clinging desperately to his leg, whispering, they’re all dead,

Jun humphed. “I have the feeling that much is happening, just out of our sight.”

“This one smelled a messenger! He rides for Rabbit Gate! Stop him!”

The arc of the spear glinted at its apex before it fell out of the sun and pinned him into the earth.

Sheesh

He told himself Jun was dead,

Holyyyyyy hell

Then get to know him,

which he had put on again much to Keema’s disappointment, as he thought the fox was much cuter.

“I’m taller than you.” This made Jun laugh, and not unpleasantly to Keema’s ears.

feeling something in his stomach, close to queasiness. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Jun was in study of him.

“I lost it the way everyone loses an arm,” he said. “How is that?” “Bad luck.” Jun chuckled. He did not push the matter.

Jun picked up the tablet. And he made a “huh” noise as he tilted it against the light.

“I will end my sons,” my greatest loves, “who love me so much they would devour me whole.”

“Since failure is all but certain, I will say it now: It was nice knowing you, Keema of the Daware Tribe.”

“Swear it!” Jun shouted. “Swear you’ll save the damned creature’s life! Even should I die! Swear it!”

I told him that this was what must happen.

Wait no poor turtle! There's more to it right?

The tortoise shook its beak, not liking this idea.

going no farther, as a single bead of sweat ran down the empress’s temple, as I did all I could to counter him.

he slapped Jun across the head—the wooden mask snapping off, thudding against the floor of the boat.

I gasped

Your father was gone in one willful movement, and you heard a small snip, somewhere inside of yourself, which was the sound of your life untethered from this earth.

OUCH

Fathers leave in all sorts of ways. Some of them leave in the dark. Some leave only in their heads,

while their bodies remain, staring at the world around them forever distantly. Others fade out over time, like an old photo rubbed raw. Many, gone in an instant.

Damn

But none of them said anything, just as you had said nothing when your own father had left, for there are moments in this life that speak clearly for themselves.

But the truth of the matter was they fought because Jun was grieving and Keema was terrified and Jun was exhilarated and Keema was joyful and Jun was exhausted and Keema was repulsed. They fought because it was the easiest language they spoke.

The unexpected quality was more from the delicacy

Keema had difficulty looking away.

He was then aware that the blood of this person’s father was still drying on his hand.

He paid only small mind to the breakfast of fruits

and honey and sweet rice cakes laid out beside him on standing trays.

I was painting the floor in red streaks.

“This one is worried. This one does not know why we stopped.”

“This one is not at peace,”

As if someone had taken great big bucketfuls of blood and doused the dock boards with it, and the boats, and the walls of the homes that made up this small and now silent village.

An arm hung off the side of the dock.

doing his best to ignore the chewed-off foot snagged in the net and the snake of intestines that drifted past his shoulder.

That monster. It held my child in its teeth as it smiled.

“Keep poling. Keep poling.”

Just keep poling just keep poling poling poling

Keema smiled, almost confessing to the dancing.

‘I am beyond nature’s

grace.’ ” He snickered. “Didn’t realize you were a poet.” Jun’s ears burned red. “I said what I had to, to stop you from making a dumb fucking decision.”

Oh! How I yearn for nature’s grace to save me from the shadows of my soul!”

“Fuck you,” Jun said, though even his mask could not hide the swell of his cheek as he smiled. “Fuck you and your one arm.”

“This one would have voted to go right,”

We wanted her to let us loose. We wanted her to let us rip the bastard apart.

my fingers itching to release the string, for Sayla, for Mardo, for all of them—how I begged to make a hole in his throat, make him sing.

Keema glanced at Jun, and it surprised him how much comfort he found in the other’s gaze, despite the red tattoo that sparked in the others so much ire.

“I have lived a long time,” she said. “And the longer I live, the more it surprises me, and saddens me, how wise the young must become to live in this world.”

You couldn’t point a finger into the crowd of the Old Country without finding someone who had experienced some great, unsettled loss.

“No matter how long you do something,” she said, “you can always fuck it up.”