Bleeding stories

Whatever you do, you can’t do that.”

“But why?”

“It will open up not just a can of worms, but a tanker full of serpents.”

“Are you talking of the stories of female foeticide and a girl infant killed because she was born blind? Are you talking about the male sex-addict who indulged in shameful conduct, but given all respect as a family elder? Are you talking about domestic violence? Well-educated daughters-in-law given no decision-making powers and treated as bed-warming and child-producing machines?”

“Who told you all this? Your grandfather is worshipped as a legendary genius in his field, who won several awards for his social service. You cannot stain his reputation.”

“The stories are struggling for release. I am Destiny, born in this family to hold a mirror to those who believe they are God.”

“You cannot…” she feels the cold barrel of a gun pressed on her temple.

Moments later, her karate moves have thrown the attacker on the ground. He is bleeding with a gunshot from his own gun. It has his finger prints.

“There are many more stories”, she continues, “ a family history of schizophrenia and drug addiction. Some of them displayed suicidal tendencies.”

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