No Mercy To Be Shown – Flash Fiction Story
He stood like a stubborn weed, fixed in his place, unmoved by the activity around him.
And much was going on.
Though the mood was sullen and withdrawn, the voices hardly slicing the stiff hush laid out on the chairs and tables, sewn to the curtains and carpet. There was a static in the air, and it crackled every time someone remembered the old man who had departed, the purpose of their dismal gathering.
Cheese and wine were on the menu. It was a good way of dealing with the discomfort.
A funeral reception had its own code of conduct. And the one who had passed on to some angelic kingdom in the sky was overripe and just the right age to die.
Ninety years or nine long decades. Say it as you wish. It’s the same both ways.
Yet the man planted by the bookcase, shoulders drooped, head dipped to the side, took no notice of the scattered emotions. He was busy with thoughts of his own.
Good thing no one could read his mind.
He raised his hands again and again, examining them, and then dropping them to his sides. It wasn’t what was on them but what he had done with them. Strangled the old bugger till his eyes had bulged and his face had bloomed a hint of red.
Nothing merry in dying while your lungs gasped for air.
The old man was the stranger who had raised him. They were father and son but with no blood relation.
Then what had gone wrong? The answer was plain but not obvious.
It was the old man’s dying wish. To feel what he had inflicted upon innocent souls.
An uncaught murderer could be repentant. And he was a dying example.
There was no mercy to be shown.
Only a family can Make a House a Home Again. It’s a humble request with a lot of heart and no hidden meaning.
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Terveen Gill is a versatile author and writer who has had the pleasure of growing up on two different continents. Having spent her childhood years in the United States, she returned to India, and has since been living in Chandigarh, a beautiful city in North India. Choosing engineering as her path, she obtained a bachelor's degree in Computer Science. However, paths are discovered only to be changed. Life's unpredictable tale made her realize her passion for writing, and thus began a journey that is transforming into a wonderful literary experience. The author of graphic novels and short stories, versatility is her secret weapon. From a storyteller to a film-maker, script-writing, film direction and film editing are pursuits that challenge and enhance her creativity. Her motto is, ‘If it can be imagined, it is already half-done’.
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Great story, I really like the twist at the end.
Thank you, Stephen. A neat twist is good for indigestion. Words can be heavy. 🙂
I was twisting on the dance floor last night (true). I now have indigestion. What am I doing wrong?….
Twisting the night away the wrong way
Maybe I shoulda paid more attention to Chubby….he didn’t get indigestion… and maybe he didn’t dance on top of a meal..and whisky
Good twist. It had been a while since you wrote something dark.
I know. It was troubling me. Thank you so much! 🙂
To appreciate the light one must experience the dark…….strangling was a good choice…..
never saw that coming; a good read 🙂
Thank you so much, John. It took me by surprise too. Seriously. 🙂
The mind is a marvelous thing. It can lead you to places completely unexpected. That is the thrill of being a writer…..yes?
Exactly! 🙂
Stretch your imagination writer….you may be amazed where it could lead you
Wonderfully written didn’t think about the ending till last.
It turned a slippery corner. Thank you so much! 🙂
A murderer submitting himself to the same method of death he subjected his victims to, a fitting end, I suppose, but still selfish. In the act of ending his life, he added one more victim to his list, his son-by-choice, who now has to live with the knowledge of how it feels to take a life. Part of a master plan to pass his trade down to his heir? I guess that’s a secret he took to his grave.
Thought-provoking as usual. Nice job.
Thank you Rhyan. Yes, in some way, wasn’t that selfish? Poor guy has to live with it now. And I really like the idea of him bequeathing his murdering legacy to his son. Could it be an initiation of some sort. May have to dig deeper. And see where this goes. How about you becoming my partner – in writing? Not a bad idea. Better than partners in crime, all though that could be another story.
Thank you so much! 🙂
Sure, I’m always down for a good collab. But, you know, if we do this thing, if we write about the mentality of a murderer and explore if the need to kill is hereditary, not by blood but by nurture, if we plot out the perfect way to commit these heinous acts without getting caught…that does indeed make us “partners in crime.”
Consider your path wisely, Grasshopper.
Haha! I will hop along and consider these wise words.
You could become crime-writing novelists….Make lotsa money…. New York’s top writer (aren’t they all?)…..Name in lights…..haha, sorry to build your hopes up
‘Part of a master plan to pass his trade down to his heir?’ Nicely said MF……
Cheers for that, Don.
‘Twas a good sentence…….
Agreed with everyone, liked the twist at the end…great story, Terveen. 😊
Thanks Jeff! 🙂
Welcome!😊
I really love how you constructed these two lines, “the voices hardly slicing the stiff hush laid out on the chairs and tables, sewn to the curtains and carpet. There was a static in the air, and it crackled every time someone remembered the old man who had departed…” The story is so poetic and dark. It’s beautiful.
I agree with Tony. These lines shine……
Thank you so much, Tony! It’s a darkness that hides within us all.
Not sure if this comment appeared? I agree with Tony. These lines shine……
Yikes! they did….WP it’s your fault
The twist was unexpected! Wonderful.
Thank you Vignesh! A twist a day makes the reader stay. I hope. 🙂
Ha ha. It must 😀
[…] The old man’s funeral should have brought closure. But his son will never forget the dying man’s last words – No Mercy To Be Shown. […]
No mercy indeed, father and son but no blood relation. As always the story has relevance to life.
Thank you so much, Shobana! Life spins a lot of stories. 🙂
Yes, I can see that!