Fiction
I have a very odd snippet here, it felt right to write it but it is strange and... very dark.
Paint it Black
This is the truth she knows: everyone is capable of cruelty.
It's a truth that is almost always not acknowledged, everyone is capable of random cruelties.
Children, teenagers, adults...
It's the hidden thread that's hidden beneath the layers of civilized society, exercised in almost anyway possible.
In public: A man, a boy, a woman, a girl hitting on those weaker than themselves. In private: The weak, the repressed unleashing on their inferiors, on their intimates. A great ball of rage pinioned between the heart and the ribcage creating an armor against compassion and pity until the deed is done.
Then guilt comes like a tidal wave crushing both the sinner and the victim.
Lina knows this hears the news everyday, reads history. Seen the clips of Nazi's, of warlords parading around.
But knowing and
knowing are two different things, so she sits on the corner and hearing in the background, the sobs of her daughter oddly muffled.
How did it start? A conversation, a plan gone awry and then the shouting, by her and the crying by her daughter. And begging by her daughter but it was unstoppable, Lina's anger and her rage and so she continued cold and hard and unrelenting, thinking of everything she gave up for her daughter, thinking of every unrelated incident because... she is angry and tired and
angry.
Lina knows she is being cruel but she doesn't stop, cannot stop because it also feels good to go on. Until it doesn't, until sense is knocked into her and the situations are now reversed with Lina begging for forgiveness.
Everyone is capable of cruelty.
Listening to her daughter's sobs and learns she is not exempt, too late.
-- Monic Almario, 2004