In the name of my Father
It’s mom and dad at it again. These days I just roll over and play dead, wishing away their nightly vigils of violence. Even our neighbours no longer scale fences to come and rescue my parents from killing each other like they used to in the olden days. My friends think they were the golden days – they say during that time, when my dad opened his mouth, everybody would stop whatever they were doing and listen. Everybody, including, his erstwhile nemeses; they would hang to every of his words. Oh, the olden days, my friends would sigh, a palpable nostalgia evident in their voices. I’m not sure, but I think I heard a hiccup or a sob escaping from Ruins when he started reminiscing what he called the good ole days. Days just after my dad had rescued me from the captors that had kept me under their grip for exactly a century, if the history of Ruins is to be believed. One hundred years! I gasped as I stared at him in utter disbelief that he loved me so much that he could lie t...