Dear Father

Dear Father,

Firstly, you must not believe what you have read in the papers. I am no mastermind. That said, I was not unwilling in this venture. You know me. I am not a fool to jump with both feet into crazy schemes. You also know how desperate the times are here. General Malgawe’s men have increased their levies on the village to an unsustainable level. The children are so hungry they have forgotten how to smile, yet the general’s men still  take what little food remains. To stand up to these soldiers is a death sentence, but they are amenable to bribes. I suppose they are no different than other men in this regard, though what they do requires a harder heart. 

The plan as presented to me was far from foolproof, but the use of the lifeboats to escape seemed sound enough. Cruise ships are seldom armed, and the passengers of the Queen’s Line are known to be wealthy. The plan called for a quick takeover, a rapid pilfering, an elegant escape.

It was never our intent to initiate a slaughter, yet it is true what they say: intentions are the stones that pave the road to hell. 

I pray you will bear no shame for my crime, and that you will one day forgive me.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction