I disliked violence.
That quality I learned from my mother.
Getting up that morning to smell the fresh fragrance of warm home baked bread was a completely different feeling. As I looked out of the window, it was raining . Normally the smell of fresh bread piercing through the air made any person run to the kitchen, but being raised in a family where every male was a killer, I pretty much knew what the smell of bread meant.
My mother was very sad.
Baking goodies for me was her way of spending time when she was sad.I went straight down to the kitchen ready to comfort her. As expected , there she was , sitting silently next to the warm loaf of bread , just staring into space . I went up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She was silent for a minute and then , in a plain and straightforward voice she said ," Your Uncle is planning to attack tonight."
My uncle Leopol was a tyrant as compared to my father. My father used to kill people and fight wars to colonize lands to his country, while my uncle did it for sheer power and money.
His latest idea was to carry out a straightforward attack on Servia. No questions asked.
My mother had many a time tried to talk him out of it. A peaceful village like Servia should at least have been given a war declaration or a proposal of voluntary colonization before just running into it with guns and bombs. But my father's death had just triggered his anger even more. He decided to give them a declaration of war.
I stood looking at my mother's sad face when suddenly a loud noise of glass breaking .We ran outside to see five or six people holding flaming torches shouting ,"GET OUT OF OUR VILLAGE YOU FOREIGNERS!" They were pelting stones at our house.
I told my mother to take cover immediately, then quickly removed my white handkerchief and waved it in the air , trying to imply that we could sort this out the peaceful way, without throwing stones. But they kept throwing stones at the house. I shouted ,"WE HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR. WE ARE NEW TO THIS PLACE! PLEASE DON'T HURT US!."
In return , one of the men shouted out a really foul term that all women detest,referring to my mother (I won't say it now). That was the last thing I heard patiently. I ran into the house and returned minutes later, with tears in my eyes and anger on my face....
and a shotgun in my hand.
BANG!
Straight on the arm with which he was holding the torch.
BANG!
Next one on his right leg. This time I made sure I had made him scream loud enough to make the others run away. I had also ensured not to kill him.
I don't think they know that I am the adopted daughter of Colonel Francis Savez, a girl whom he was kind enough to pick from the war stricken areas of Kwaha ,not because he was a very sympathetic man,
because I was an awesome fighter .Trained my entire childhood with arms and weaponry by idiots who thought that children soldiers are a good idea. They finally lost and were colonized by this man, who made me his daughter and the bodyguard of his wife, whom I referred to as my mother.
As I saw the man crawling away in pain , I heard him shouting ,"You people wait for Bruce, JUST WAIT FOR HIM TO KNOW OF THIS ATTACK AND THE ATTACK ON SERVIA!!"
I disliked violence.
That quality I learned from my mother.
I disliked insult even more, and wouldn't mind settling it with violence.
That quality I learned from my life.
That quality I learned from my mother.
Getting up that morning to smell the fresh fragrance of warm home baked bread was a completely different feeling. As I looked out of the window, it was raining . Normally the smell of fresh bread piercing through the air made any person run to the kitchen, but being raised in a family where every male was a killer, I pretty much knew what the smell of bread meant.
My mother was very sad.
Baking goodies for me was her way of spending time when she was sad.I went straight down to the kitchen ready to comfort her. As expected , there she was , sitting silently next to the warm loaf of bread , just staring into space . I went up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She was silent for a minute and then , in a plain and straightforward voice she said ," Your Uncle is planning to attack tonight."
My uncle Leopol was a tyrant as compared to my father. My father used to kill people and fight wars to colonize lands to his country, while my uncle did it for sheer power and money.
His latest idea was to carry out a straightforward attack on Servia. No questions asked.
My mother had many a time tried to talk him out of it. A peaceful village like Servia should at least have been given a war declaration or a proposal of voluntary colonization before just running into it with guns and bombs. But my father's death had just triggered his anger even more. He decided to give them a declaration of war.
I stood looking at my mother's sad face when suddenly a loud noise of glass breaking .We ran outside to see five or six people holding flaming torches shouting ,"GET OUT OF OUR VILLAGE YOU FOREIGNERS!" They were pelting stones at our house.
I told my mother to take cover immediately, then quickly removed my white handkerchief and waved it in the air , trying to imply that we could sort this out the peaceful way, without throwing stones. But they kept throwing stones at the house. I shouted ,"WE HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS WAR. WE ARE NEW TO THIS PLACE! PLEASE DON'T HURT US!."
In return , one of the men shouted out a really foul term that all women detest,referring to my mother (I won't say it now). That was the last thing I heard patiently. I ran into the house and returned minutes later, with tears in my eyes and anger on my face....
and a shotgun in my hand.
BANG!
Straight on the arm with which he was holding the torch.
BANG!
Next one on his right leg. This time I made sure I had made him scream loud enough to make the others run away. I had also ensured not to kill him.
I don't think they know that I am the adopted daughter of Colonel Francis Savez, a girl whom he was kind enough to pick from the war stricken areas of Kwaha ,not because he was a very sympathetic man,
because I was an awesome fighter .Trained my entire childhood with arms and weaponry by idiots who thought that children soldiers are a good idea. They finally lost and were colonized by this man, who made me his daughter and the bodyguard of his wife, whom I referred to as my mother.
As I saw the man crawling away in pain , I heard him shouting ,"You people wait for Bruce, JUST WAIT FOR HIM TO KNOW OF THIS ATTACK AND THE ATTACK ON SERVIA!!"
I disliked violence.
That quality I learned from my mother.
I disliked insult even more, and wouldn't mind settling it with violence.
That quality I learned from my life.
1 comments:
It's really good.....can't wait to know what happens next... ^_^
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