I’ve ripped off a few parts of this post from a lot of parts of the internet where I’ve seen people debating as such. Such content is definitely not mine – I’m simply borrowing those lines because they seem to fit. If you know who to credit, please do let me know below.
Today’s Prompt: write about finding something.
Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second instalment — loosely defined.
“This book is trash,” cried the boy as he threw the book onto the floor.
Miraculously, a framed photograph of a deity fell on it. The book cushioned the fall and the glass remained unbroken.
“Why are these pictures still inside our home? Didn’t I ask you to throw them out yesterday?” bellowed the father looking up from the table where he was cutting vegetables, “I don’t believe in them anymore, not after…”
Behind him, on the table, was a crumpled newspaper from the day before bearing the news: Terrorists attack school – 130 children feared dead.
“I’ll get them out in the evening, Dad,” the son promised as he walked over to pick his book up, “By the way, the book which you gave me isn’t so good.” He paused to see if his dad was listening. He was, and the boy continued speaking. “The detective could have saved the victim if he had called or messaged her to be careful. He goes there on foot. How stupid can a detective get?”
“Well, son, maybe the book was written when mobile phones hadn’t been as prevalent as it is today,” argued the father as he went back to his chores.
“Dad, so you say, that there was a time, without mobiles?”
“Oh yes – my boy. There should have been a time before the mobile phone was created. Everyone can use something only when it is invented and made commercially available to everyone.”
“But dad, then when and how did the world get created? This universe is a creation, and then, logically there has to be a creator.”
“Yes. But a heartless one I tell you. You saw this didn’t you?” gesturing to the newspaper.
“Dad. Calm down. If you had to pick up flowers from our garden to lay it on their grave, which ones would you pick?”
“I will pick the most beautiful flowers.”
PS. It has been a very long time since I wrote this “story”. I realise that this reasoning is not fair, nor is it considerate to someone who might have lost someone close to them. On the other hand, I also won’t delete this post. For all, I know this is a reminder to me of how I need to think more before I write. Just because something sounds catchy or memorable, doesn’t necessarily mean it is a nice thing to say. There may come a time when I am able to rewrite this post in a way that satisfies my creative side, what morales I possess, and this prompt. Till then, I hope this post script helps.