“Whatever you do, you can’t do that.”
“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.”
One thought on “Bleeding stories”
to and fro
hell fuck it we all know
the ways of the east
are hard to decipher in that leash
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