9d • General discussion
The King to his baby sister
The golden curtains of the palace in Port-au-Prince swayed in the humid evening breeze, but inside the private chambers, King Jeff 101 moved with a quiet, heavy grace. The great crown remained fixed upon his brow, its jewels catching the flickering candlelight as he knelt beside the cradle of his baby sister, Nanane. Even in this private moment, the weight of his station stayed with him.
He took her small hand in his, his eyes reflecting the weary wisdom of a ruler and the fierce love of a brother.
"Nanane," he whispered, his voice like the low roll of Caribbean thunder. "Look at me. This world we were born into... it hasn't been kind. I know the shadows that dance in your eyes even now. We have never truly been happy with this life, have we? This crown I wear is sharp, the land is scarred, and the air often tastes of salt and sorrow."
He smoothed a stray curl from her forehead, the metal of his headpiece glinting as he leaned in. "I know how tortured your spirit feels, little one. I see the weight you carry before you can even walk. But remember this: you are a miracle. When death reached for you, the only true God reached back and pulled you into the light. He saved you for a reason that the world cannot take away.
Jeff 101 leaned closer, his expression softening with a defiant smile.
Listen to your brother. Since this life may never give us the peace we seek, you must find it within. You can be happy with yourself, Nanane. You are a kingdom unto yourself—holy, chosen, and resilient. Do not look to the horizon for a rescue; look to the breath in your lungs. Hope isn't a fairy tale we tell the citizens to keep them quiet. Hope is alive. It’s beating in your heart right now.
"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him." — Psalm 28:7
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The King to his baby sister
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