“Anger is an acid that can do more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured” – Mark Twain
The searing sunlight broke through the thin and devastated curtains. He couldn’t get rid of them though. They were Anna’s curtains. One of the only reminders of her that he still possessed. He couldn’t stand to stay in the same house with constant reminders of his failure to protect her. To protect them both. Every day he asked himself the same question: why? Why was he still here perusing a pair of curtains that did nothing but remind him of what he lost? Of what was taken from him. And every day he answered his own question instantly. He perused these curtains because they reminded him of what kept him going for the past year – revenge.
He thought it ridiculous how oft vengeance was talked about as a poison: he saw it as a sustenance – the only thing that kept their faces in his head day and night, night and day. Continue reading “Sheep Can’t Talk Peace With Wolves (Short Story)”