{"id":3754,"date":"2019-08-31T23:39:21","date_gmt":"2019-08-31T23:39:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/?p=3754"},"modified":"2026-03-14T18:06:57","modified_gmt":"2026-03-14T18:06:57","slug":"kai-toh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/kai-toh\/","title":{"rendered":"Kai Toh"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

Art in the Park           <\/h3>\n

Spring, Ontario, 1953.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreetings,\u201d Raith said.
\n\u201cHello,\u201d said a middle-age, gray-haired, slightly portly man, carrying much camping gear.
\n\u201cYou look prepared to be out here, but I am just wondering if you need any assistance?\u201d the short, thin man with long, dark-black hair questioned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am looking for the location where Rob Robson painted his most famous work, The Breaking Ice.\u201d
\n\u201cYou have drifted from the provincial park trail and now are in the surrounding crown land. I can get you back on track,\u201d Raith said, and they examined the hiker\u2019s map, and he showed the hiker his approximately location. \u201cYou\u2019ll have to camp overnight, but you should be able to get there tomorrow afternoon. I can lead you there.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t wish to trouble you.\u201d<\/p>\n

It will be a lot more trouble if I have to rescue you, he thought. \u201cNo trouble, many people get lost and then need help. We don\u2019t want you to be one of them.\u201d
\n\u201cI must admit, this trip might be slightly more advanced than my skill level,\u201d the art enthusiast said. \u201cIt can be a little stressful out here. I welcome your expertise.\u201d
\n\u201cDo not worry, you\u2019ll be safe with me.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat are you doing out here, if I may ask?\u201d
\n\u201cI was visiting a friend and decided to trek through this area. Like Robert, I am an enthusiast of the surroundings.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s very picturesque up here.\u201d
\n\u201cI know very little of Robert Robson. Can you tell me how he is seen in the world outside this wooded one?\u201d asked Raith, genuinely intrigued.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is so much to tell you. I\u2019ve studied him all my life, but I will try to answer without giving you details that you do not care about. He is, at this time and I\u2019m sure in decades and possibly centuries to come, Canada\u2019s top two or three most well-known artists. This is partially because of the circumstances of his death and some questions surrounding it. His art is among the best selling, in terms of prices of individual pieces, among Canadian artists. His work is in the most prestigious art galleries not only in Ontario but the rest of Canada.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? I did not know this at all. Impressive. Was he the best at what he did?\u201d
\n\u201cThe art world is too subjective to definitively answer that. His technique was good and improving with each passing year, but it is his style that caught people\u2019s imagination and inspired future artists. There was a group called The Six, even though one of them left after two years and they painted as a group for 17 years. Thus, for 15 years, there were only five members of The Six. They are famous throughout Canada and likely the world. Rob Robson was a precursor to that group and knew many of its members.\u201d
\n\u201cYou said there were questions about his death, how so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOfficially, he drowned, but there are rumours that there was more to it. A person of German descent who was known to swing his paddle violently at others had an argument with Rob about possible outcomes of World War I. Rob accused him of being a US deserter. This person also was interested in the young woman Rob was seeing.
\n\u201cAnother theory concerned a party the night before. Rob was drinking heavily with a friend, and a fight ensued when the friend ridiculed him for failing on three attempts to enlist in the Boer war and World War I. The friend also accused him of unwanted advances towards his girlfriend. They fought and Rob was knocked out cold, but some suggest the friend actually killed Rob and put him in a canoe to hide his crime. This is unlikely as the ranger made notes in his journal that Tom was seen alive the next day. There are so many other theories out there.<\/p>\n

\u201cA vacationing medical doctor spotted an object in the water and asked some guides to investigate. It turned out to be Rob\u2019s body. The doctor did a detailed examination about what he found and concluded it was an accidental drowning. There was a wound on his forehead consistent with hitting the side of the boat. The coroner was delayed, but when he did get there, he supposedly simply accepted the medical doctor\u2019s conclusions. Many think he is likely competent, but he is not a coroner and might have missed something.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen there is the issue with the burial. They buried him near where he was staying two days after they found him and after the doctor\u2019s medical examination but before the coroner signed off. The next day, they exhumed the body because his brother came and took him home on the train. They allowed this to happen even though the coroner did not sign off yet. Years later, people supposedly went to the local grave site and found bones that they thought were Rob\u2019s but turned out to belong to someone else. Some people think Rob\u2019s brother took a coffin of rocks home to be buried in the family plot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you see merit in any of these theories? What about historians and the public at large?\u201d
\n\u201cThe public wants drama and intrigue. They want conflict and something to whisper and gossip about like teenage girls. The public will deceive themselves with lurid tales, but if they took the time to look at it objectively, they would see that accidental drowning is the most likely scenario. Fellow artists are not historians, and they have their own biases, but most I think would agree on drowning, which is what the historians believe. There was a definitive book that came out two or three years ago right after World War II. It looked at all the claims, when the claims came about, why they came about, and, in almost excruciating detail, why each and every argument had no merit. It got a little repetitive after a while. The author\u2019s final conclusion was that he drowned, and there was no evidence of foul play.\u201d
\n\u201cI guessed the art world was saddened by his death and his family heartbroken,\u201d Raith said, unaware he was likely stating the obvious.
\n\u201cFrom what I read, this is most definitely the case, and of course, such grieving is always present to some degree when anyone dies prematurely.\u201d
\n\u201cIt is such a shame.\u201d
\n\u201cIndeed. Indeed.\u201d
\n
\n 
\n\"\"<\/p>\n

Summer, Ontario, 1917.<\/p>\n

Raith did not live in the provincial park, his home being in a more isolated location in rural northern Ontario. However, he often visited an aboriginal friend at a reserve on the other side of the park. The quickest route is to fly over the park. He often used the Kayak River as a guide to his destination. One year, in early July, he was making the trek back in the form of a raven when he saw people leaving the inn near Kayak River with painting brushes and canvases in hand. Curiosity caught the better of him and he flew below, hiding the clothes he was carrying, and flew about, investigating and wanting to learn more. He saw a large man, over six feet, and of ample girth, with curly, brown hair and a well-shaped nose. Raith somehow thought artists were more fragile, but it was obvious this person was not averse to physical labour and likely did a lot of it. He followed him until he found a place where he wanted to sketch. There were some trees and lake and clouds. Raith thought it was a mundane location though he knew he did not have the aesthetic of artists. The beauty that nature offers could not sway or excite him as it did others.<\/p>\n

As he thought he would be, he was thoroughly unimpressed by this person\u2019s work. Of course, there was much of the typical human experience that he looked at with apathy or disdain. He was about to leave when out of the corner of his eye, he saw another man with a rifle: a poacher. He took aim in the direction he was looking, the target being a young deer. Quickly, Raith transformed, every aspect of the raven growing outward with the body elongating and the form becoming bipedal, five-and-a-half feet tall, with an eight-foot wingspan. He heard a gasp and turned his head to see it was the artist who made the noise. There was nothing he could do at that moment. Raith flew swiftly towards the poacher, disarming him and knocking him unconscious within one motion. He knew the artist could not see his attack but also knew that he saw too much already. He hid the gun and ammunition in a location that he would later retrieve. He clasped the lifeless poacher\u2019s body with his talons and flew him to a wide, well-travelled trail. His hope was that the warden would see him, or others might and report him to the warden.<\/p>\n

After that was resolved, he turned his attention to the bulky artist. What did the artist see? Either him transforming to this raven-human hybrid creature or simply this monstrosity of a creature before his very eyes and quickly disappearing. This never happened to Raith before since he was very careful not to do or be seen doing anything suspicious. There was a protocol that his father had taught him. He wished he could contact his father for his counsel, but he was away. His mother was home, but the distance was far, and the caretaking of the forest was a male responsibility so she and his sister could offer very little help. He tried to piece together all the details from memory as very little was written down. Recalling everything he could, what he needed to do was not something he looked forward to and actually dreaded. However, if his father did it this way in the past, it was most likely useful, and he will defer to that.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cGreetings,\u201d Raith said.
\n\u201cHello,\u201d Robert replied, surprised to be meeting anyone new out here in the woods.
\n\u201cYou might think you saw something fantastical near dusk yesterday, but it was just a trick of the light,\u201d he said, getting straight to the matter at hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know I saw something strange?\u201d the artist asked.
\n\u201cI was behind you. I saw it too. I\u2019ve seen it before, thinking it monstrous and mystical, but it is an optical illusion, an imperfect brain deluding you,\u201d the dark-haired man said very calmly.
\n\u201cThe three shots I had after dinner didn\u2019t help either,\u201d Robert joked.
\nRaith laughed at that. \u201cDid you tell anyone what you thought you saw?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, not yet. They will think I am mad. What did you see?\u201d
\n\u201cSomething shadowy, human-like …\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw a beak.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, I might have seen that too or what looked like a beak.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd wings, definitely wings.\u201d
\n\u201cIf your mind thinks it saw a beak, it is very likely to think it saw wings as well.\u201d
\nRobert listened to the man talk and he made sense, but his trying to change the narrative of what he saw annoyed him. \u201cIt was black, a crow or a raven. But it wasn\u2019t a large raven, it was a raven-being, a cross between raven and man. I saw it for only a few seconds, and then it vanished behind the trees, likely toward the nearby valley.\u201d
\n\u201cOf course, such a creature does not exist.\u201d
\n\u201cI saw it, but my vision being mistaken is much more likely than something like that being real.\u201d
\n\u201cVery true, now we don\u2019t want gossip and rumours to spread about this and have a lot of people who do not appreciate or belong in the park to flock here to try to see it,\u201d Raith reasoned.
\n\u201cI guess not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, good. Listeners will only look down on you for telling such a story anyway. It is very important that we keep quiet about this. It is my utmost priority, and I would go to great lengths not to have these tall tales out there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Robert looked at him, reading between the words, and stood tall against the short, thin man. Raith stared coldly at the artist with his different-coloured eyes. \u201cI, as you, do not want conflict. It\u2019s been a congenial conversation so far, but this I must express. You did not see anything extraordinary, and it is best to just forget about it. Simply put\u2014you talk, you die. That is not a threat. It is simply a fact. The people you tell will die. If you make a deathbed confession, the person who heard it will die. If you are drunk and talk or talk in your sleep and someone hears it, you will still die. I don\u2019t want to hurt anyone. All you have to do is forget, put it out of your mind, and never speak of it again … and nothing will happen. Of course, this very conservation and us ever meeting must leave your thoughts as well.\u201d
\n
\n 
\nRobert assessed the situation. He was a rugged outdoorsman, but he was not a fighter and would not match up well with a hardened criminal or a determined person who would do anything to get what he wanted, even if he was much smaller. Be careful. Don\u2019t underestimate him. He always intended to be silent anyway. \u201cWhat if I say no?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn this issue and with me, you do not want to say no,\u201d he said and gave a cold, steel stare.
\n\u201cI will do as you ask,\u201d Robert said, but did not know himself if he meant it.
\n\u201cI hope, for both our interests, you do so unwaveringly,\u201d Raith said. \u201cYou know what I ask. Think about your actions. One misstep might lead to tragedy. There will be no warnings or second chances.\u201d<\/p>\n

The dark man turned around and within seconds was out of sight.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Robert said he agreed but was not sure how seriously he should take this threat. In a fair fight, he could not foresee the man getting the better of him. Of course, it might not be a fair fight. He could be cunning or ruthless or use weapons or attack when unexpected. It would not be difficult to keep quiet. Years will pass and the incident will be hidden in the recesses of distant memory. Still, he did not like being told what to do. He did not like being intimidated. However, was he willing to be defiant and risk the wrath of this strange man? He was leaning towards no.<\/p>\n

He then wondered, why was this man so interested in what he saw and so invested in his silence? One scenario, as outlandish as it sounded, was that some sort of creature did exist, and this man was connected with it. Was he the person in control of the creature, using him for whatever schemes, good or evil, that he had? Even more absurd was the idea that the creature and this man were one in the same and that one could become the other. He never heard of a hybrid creature in any aboriginal stories, though ravens could take the form of men in some tales.<\/p>\n

There are stories of werewolves and vampires, and their abilities make little sense in the context of modern reality. A man being able to change into a raven makes little sense as well if one knows anything of biology. If no such being exists, why suppress it? Not wanting tourists to flock here makes sense, but would one not threaten another with murder for that alone? At least, no sane person would. Very strange situation indeed.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\u201cShadowWing,\u201d Raith addressed his best intelligence-gathering raven. \u201cI must return home in the next couple of days. The artist, the large fellow, either saw my hybrid form, or worse, a raven transforming into said form. I warned him not to speak of what he saw or my subsequent encounter with him. He agreed, but I would like you to watch him and let me know if he is doing anything he should not be.\u201d
\n\u201cAs you command, Exalted Raith,\u201d the raven said.<\/p>\n

The next evening, close to midnight, the raven returned to the tree where Raith was roosting.<\/p>\n

\u201cExalted Raith, Robert is drinking heavily and not sleeping well. I overheard him ask one of the elder cottagers here if there were any hermits in the area who saw themselves as protectors of the forest. The older man said no. He then asked about ravens in the area and if there are any myths about them. The other said, not that he knows of.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raith\u2019s expression did not change, but ShadowWing knew this was not the news he wished to hear.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Robert went alone to a new location to sketch. As he was setting up, Raith appeared out of nowhere and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and forced him violently to the ground. Robert tried to fight back, but somehow the small man was faster and stronger and had a counter to everything the bigger man attempted.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are going to yourself killed,\u201d Raith said as he sat on his stomach and had one hand on his throat. \u201cI could kill you this very moment, but that doesn\u2019t do either of us any good. I ask you to please stop all of this and forget me and what you think you saw. Alternatively, do not forget but never speak of it. Your life is in peril. Your actions will be the death of you. There will be no further warning. I hope you finally understand how dire your situation is.\u201d
\n\u201cI do. It haunts me. I can\u2019t stop thinking about it. It changes everything I think I know, but I will stop. I swear,\u201d Robert promised. Raith then departed as quickly as he had appeared.<\/p>\n

That evening, Raith, himself, watched the artist with ShadowWing. His curtains were closed this night, and little could be heard from the other side. They thought they heard tossing and turning but could not be sure. The evening after that was uneventful which was how he wanted it. The next two days were the same, and Raith felt some relief and prepared to leave with peace of mind.
\nThe afternoon of the next day, ShadowWing flew towards Raith, something in its beak, slim and rectangular. \u201cExalted Raith, I found this in Robert\u2019s room, next to his typewriter. There was also a sketch of a raven man in his sketch book which I removed and hid to be later destroyed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raith thought, good work, but only nodded and took the letter.
\n
\n 
\nDear Edmund,
\nI saw something fantastical that changed my whole worldview of what is possible and what exists in this world. Then I was threatened with death if I ever spoke of it. Also, I was told that those I shared what I saw with would also die. Yet, I need to reveal this to someone, to unburden myself of these visions and haunting nightmares. If you want no part of this, destroy this letter immediately.<\/p>\n

If you graciously decide to help me, possibly risking your own life, flip this letter over and I will share what I have witnessed.<\/p>\n

Raith flipped the letter over and his expression could not hide his dismay. Raith looked up, catching the knowing glance of the raven, and took an exasperated breath.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Spring, Ontario, 1953.
\n\u201cHere we are. You showed me a copy of the original, but what you will see will not likely be as impressive unfortunately,\u201d Raith said. \u201cThe trees block the view, and of course, it is past the season when the ice breaks.\u201d
\n\u201cStill, it is a thrill to be here, where Rob Robson sat and painted his finest work. Actually, he sketched it here and finished it in a studio. However, this is definitely the place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raith let the man, who he found out was named Gareth, appreciate the destination of his journey. They already went over how he could safely take another route back, and he will be able to leave the park without incident.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about mental illness or compulsiveness or stubbornness? Did Robert have any signs of that?\u201d Raith asked out of the blue.
\n\u201cI am not sure I know what you mean.\u201d
\n\u201cCould he be obsessive with activities?\u201d
\n\u201cPerhaps slightly as he was prolific in the year of his death and he was painting a lot of the provincial park.\u201d
\n\u201cWas he one to break promises, saying one thing but not doing it,\u201d Raith wondered out loud.
\n\u201cNo, though there are some incidents where he pursued women that were not available, and a more moral man might stay away.\u201d
\n\u201cHow about fear? Was he a brave man? He enlisted a lot, so it did not look like he feared dying in war.\u201d
\n\u201cWe do know he very much feared how others though about his art,\u201d Gareth explained. \u201cI do not get the impression he was brave to any exceptional degree. Why all the sudden questions?\u201d
\n\u201cWell, we are parting soon, and I\u2019d like a better picture of who the man was.\u201d
\n\u201cHe wasn\u2019t perfect. Who is? But he\u2019s a great artist, and he left us too early.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raith nodded at that and told the man he must be going. That evening, after he flew home, he tried to gather his thoughts. Looks like the perfect murder is not that difficult. Luckily, there were no reports of Robert talking to a dark-haired man or that might have turned out to be one of the theories. He recalled what happened over thirty years ago. He didn\u2019t want to do it, but he felt it was almost like Robert was testing him, acting so defiantly. Perhaps, it is some temporary madness from what he saw or from lack of sleep. After he did what he had to, Raith left for home and did not know the aftermath of his actions. The next trip to his friend\u2019s reserve was months later and when he flew over Kayak River, it looked the same, until one fly by later on when he noticed they put up a commemorative cairn. Even after reading it, he did not know fully Robert Robson\u2019s reach, influence, and inspiration. He never regretted it and never felt guilty. Robert was fairly warned. If there was some flaw within him that could not make him adhere to the terms agreed, that is unfortunate, but there was no choice in the matter. One alternative was to let him speak. This did not sound like a good idea at the time and a poorer option in retrospect. He would have many people that would listen to him and start an idea that no one had in their heads up to then. He did not want the same notoriety of creatures that did not exist to be associated with him. Better one man dies than the idea giving birth. It was the only thing to do. I am sorry it turned out that way, Robert Robson.
\n
\n 
\n\"\"
\nA raven flew with a letter in its talon and placed it in front of Raith who was home at the tallest tress of his immense forest. \u201cExalted Raith, Gareth, the man you guided a week ago spoke to the park ranger. The park ranger later scoured through his office and took out a letter. I believe the letter is for you. He went into the forest looking for you. When he was distracted, I relieved him of it.\u201d
\nRaith picked up the letter. He said to the raven, \u201cIt says, \u2018to the long, black-haired man who lives near Lake Kayak.\u2019 I guess it is for me, though I live no where close to there though the sender might not know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

August 3, 1950<\/p>\n

To whom it may concern,
\nI am Sophie Hannah, brother of Peter Isbell who was married to Annabelle and was a supposed friend of Rob Robson. Peter confessed to me on his deathbed that he overheard Rob talking in his sleep and pieced together that Rob saw a fantastical creature in the woods and that the human form of that creature threatened to kill him if he spoke of their interaction. Peter wanted Rob dead, owing him a sizable debt and there were rumours of a possible affair with his wife. To this end, he forged a letter, pretending it was written by Rob, to a friend in Toronto. In that letter, Robert reveals everything the creature did not want him too. He also forged an incriminating sketch in Robert\u2019s sketchbook. Peter said that letter was intercepted, and the sketch was stolen. If any decisions were made towards Rob based on the sketch and the letter, let it be known that Rob most likely had no intention of speaking about any encounter. My brother quite cleverly manipulated the situation.
\nI felt it best that the person or creature that Rob supposedly encountered know the truth and that we are all vulnerable to deception.
\nSincerely,<\/p>\n

Sophie
\n\u201cExalted Raith, are you okay?\u201d the raven asked, never seeing such a stunned look on his master\u2019s face.
\n\u201cNo, I am not,\u201d he admitted.
\n\u201cAnything you wish to confide in, Exalted One?\u201d
\n\u201cIt is best I do not.\u201d
\n\u201cIs there anyway I can assist you, Exalted One?\u201d
\n\u201cNo,\u201d Raith said. \u201cNo one can help me now. Leave me, please.\u201d
\n\u201cOf course, Exalted Raith.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later, when Raith had time to contemplate the ramifications of the letter, the truth set in. What have I done? I killed the most iconic artist this country has ever known. On purpose. I had evidence. I had clarity. I felt no guilt. Some might disagree as to whether it was the right thing to do, but I warned him, twice. He didn\u2019t listen. He had to die. And he did. Now I find out I was tricked, that I killed an innocent man, an artist that could have created more works that the public would have loved. I left his family in ruins. A person who did not intend to do me any harm. You rule on the actions of misbehaving ravens all the time. How do you sentence yourself, Exalted King of the Ravens?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t go away. Raith was sure it would, but just like how Raith haunted Rob\u2019s dreams and kept him up at night over thirty years ago, it was now Raith\u2019s turn, the nightmare never ending. Many traumatic flashbacks are from the victim\u2019s view the moment harm was done to him or her. However, Robert knew not what happened to him, and the vision of his demise continuously echoed through Raith\u2019s mind, softly putting Rob\u2019s head within his right talon in mid-flight and carefully crushing it against the gunwale. If the strike was too hard, foul play would be suspected. Too light and he would not die. Ghosts of Robert entered Raith\u2019s dreams. The poor sleep led to poorer reflexes, which resulted in minor injuries after failed attempts at flying through tight-knitted branches. He became irritable and more likely to lose his composure. His unexcited, level-headed demeanour was not what it once was, now being reactive and emotional. He thought if any of his family members died, the grieving would only take weeks. After that, he knew any negativity, anxiety, stress, or sadness would be disconnected from the thought of them. Mental anguish could always be neutralized, and he thought that would be the case here, but it did not go away.<\/p>\n

There was no one to talk to. In desperation, he shared with another raven (ShadowWing having past a long time ago) and the unburdening of secrets helped but not to the extent needed. His thoughts usually were focused and never strayed or became distracted but not anymore. He lost control. What he would give to undo the sin, to turn back the hands of time and act differently. He then wondered, will it always be like this, and can I live like this if the anguish doesn\u2019t dissipate? He read somewhere that we get used to things and that things return to a set experience level over time. Wondrous experiences lose their sublimity, but even the greatest of tragedies become manageable \u2014 but not for him. They stayed the same or have gotten worse over time. He could see the plight of addicts: just take away this pain; I would give anything to stop the hurt.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

It was not easy to find. The provincial park was west of a gigantic bay, and land wrapped around the bottom half of the bay with a peninsula on the west. Near the base of that peninsula, near an inlet, was the small town where Robert grew up and where he is now buried. It took him quite a while to find the place, having to change to human form and ask for directions. Eventually, he found the gravestone, and the nearby plaque commemorating him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s been a long time, Robert Robson. I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m talking to you. I know that there is more to this life than science knows \u2014 my existence being a prime example. Still, I am quite sure there is no afterlife. Let me just come out and say it: I am sorry. Peter tricked me and I killed you and made it look like an accident, and your death has been a national mystery ever since. Peter is dead. Only I and Peter\u2019s sister, assuming she is still alive, knows the truth. Words cannot express the shame that I feel over my actions. You did not deserve to die, yet I killed you. I was manipulated, but still, I killed you, and you did nothing wrong but see me transform when I spotted a poacher about to shoot a deer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought of punishment and reparations. Should I lock myself in self-imposed exile or incarceration for twenty-five years? Should that be my sentence? That does not do anyone any good. I can never undo or repay the harm I\u2019ve done. I\u2019ve donated all the money I\u2019ve collected over the years to your estate. I will make sure nothing harms the park you hold most dear. Admittedly, that\u2019s not much work there as the government has a paid staff to do that, and environmentalists and political opinion would not let anything happen to the park. Still, there might be loggers and business interests, and I will fight for you \u2014 be your advocate. It\u2019s been two years since I read Peter\u2019s sister\u2019s letter. There\u2019s been many sleepless nights and admittedly even tears. I have killed many, many times but never wrongly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m forgiving myself even if you cannot, being dead and all, and even if for some reason you would not forgive me in some scenario, I cannot at this moment picture. I am letting myself out of the prison of anguish I made for myself, letting the negativity, anxiety, regret, and guilt slip away. Would you want me to keep these for the rest of my days? I don\u2019t think so. I thought I was so strong-minded, a man of certainty and, thus, little doubt and second guessing, but I was wrong, the guilt enveloping my very being. The world of men and any individual man, I have always been highly apathetic too. However, just because I don\u2019t care about you does not mean it is all right that harm comes to you. Maybe I\u2019m more human than I like.<\/p>\n

\u201cI murdered you, Robert Robson. I am sorry. I ask for your forgiveness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Raith then left one of his own feathers, half buried in the centre of the ground on Robert\u2019s grave site.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Art in the Park            Spring, Ontario, 1953. \u201cGreetings,\u201d Raith said. \u201cHello,\u201d said a middle-age, gray-haired, slightly portly man, carrying much camping gear. \u201cYou look prepared to be out here, but I am just wondering if you need any assistance?\u201d the short, thin man with long, dark-black hair questioned. \u201cI am looking for the location…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":5275,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3754","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3754","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3754"}],"version-history":[{"count":38,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3754\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5425,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3754\/revisions\/5425"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5275"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3754"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3754"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3754"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}