A Daughter’s Choice

Ashspring sat on the high wall looking out over the docks and the poor section of the city.  She could just hear the music dancing on the southern winds as the pink reflections of the sunset bathed the whitewashed walls.  She could smell the salt on the air mixed with the rancid bitterness of fish guts rotting on the docks.   She liked the smell not so much because it was pleasant as because she had grown accustomed to its gritty undertaste, a permeating sense of her world that colored even the most pleasant Mediterranean sunset with almost imperceptible ugliness.     This was her home, not some storybook tale she’d once so utterly believed in and now cursed for its deception.    Her father paid dearly for the...