Never Whole ملاحظة قصصية · الجزء 1 من 2

The person I buried wasn't my father anymore. He was a changed man, captivated and twisted by a sword from the stars that should've never landed in his grasp.

He found it when I was still a child. Afterwards, I saw him hunched over shuffled papers every night. His long, thinning hair covered his face in oily strands, hanging into his lap, where he cradled the blade. In my eyes, his crooked neck made him look like a weeping willow.

He wouldn't even turn to meet my gaze. "Tell me, where's your twin, little one?" He murmured to the saber. "Come hither, make me whole again."

Now, many years, later, I am hunched over my own desk like father once was. His last wish was to be buried with his sword. I obliged. Did I do the right thing? He didn't die by the blade, but that sword took his life...