My three daughters. Who could ever have dreamt such a thing? Not I. But here they were, running toward me jubilant in the energy of youth. How could such beautiful creatures, so full of love have come from me?
Such a wonder.

 Their happiness was not clouded by the memory of their mothers passing, only a year ago. Just down the beach a bit. I came to her to late. Not even a spark remained. Nothing. Just another ugly death. 

One develops a fine sense of things, and so I knew they were waiting for us back at our room. They would kill me and then the girls. Their eyes dark and blank. I had done so myself. I knew. But death would not visit today. I knew the back ways and we'd vanish into the night. Bright birds in flight.