Story Factory: The executors

bloodbath-891262_1280 HannahJoe7
© Picture: HannahJoe7@Pixabay.com
Written by: Jehan Daal

“We are moving.” My voice trembles when I speak. It is the third time in a very short time frame. Again I have to say those words and see the look on my kids face. One of the things that hurt me the most. It makes me realize that I am their father. A father who is not capable of protecting them from the horrible thing that one of the neighbors did to us. If I cannot do that, then what good am I?

When you think of it, humans can be barbaric. Pretending that love is what binds us all, but don’t you dare to be different. And that is exactly what me and my family are. We are different. We have needs and urges that most people don’t understand or even despise. We don’t choose to do so, it is our instinct who tells us that we have to do this.

The people in this neighborhood are very clear. They killed one of my daughters to set an example of what happens to ‘strangers’ like us. I watched her dying and heard her screaming “daddy, daddy!,” but there was nothing I could do.

So here we go again, finding another home. We need to, in order to stay alive. I look at my wife. She is fighting the tears as do I. Trying not to think of the fact that when we came here we were with six and now five of us are leaving.

“OMG my sex addicted son looks at the breasts of this young girl!”

That night my son, my eldest daughter and I sneak inside through the window. We look around. No one notice us. I telll them to be quick and not to become greedy. Just get what we need and go out of there. My daughter gets close to the girl’s golden earring and touches it. She rolls on her side, but keeps her eyes closed. Perhaps she thinks that she is just dreaming.

Then I see my sex addicted son looking at this girl. O god no! Son she is about thirteen years old! But I am sure that he totally forgot what I said. She lies there totally still and asleep. Wearing nothing but a panty. He stares at her sweaty breast and licks his lips. I try to grab him, but it is too late. He comes close to her and sucks at her nipple. She wakes up instantly and starts to yell. One moment I fear that she will see him, but my son is fast and ultra silent. He is a pro. And so are we.

The next morning I see the girl’s mother returning from shopping. And I instinctively know that we are no longer save here. The mom takes a racket out of the bag. “Here you go. The next time the mosquitos are in your room, you’ll execute them!”

I got the message, call my family and fly off.

 

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