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Copyright Bjorn Rudberg

Move in with me!” he’d said pointing out his place; tucked away from the rest of mankind.
Just you, me and that breath-taking view? Of course Mr. Romantic!

Soon romance was the last thing on her mind for with the world so far below them; no one could ever hear her scream.

That morning, the face looking back from the mirror was unrecognizable and she knew she couldn’t take it anymore. But was there
anywhere he wouldn’t find her…?

She took a breath and stepped off the edge of that beautiful mountain. He’d never be able to follow her there.

******

Written for Friday Fictioneers. It’s a little dark, but, it’s what came to mind when I saw the image. You can check out the other brilliant contributions this week here.

Violence Against Women – It’s a men’s issue

Jackson Katz provides a possible solution to some of the problems I mentioned and questions I asked in an earlier post.

I stumbled upon this video by accident and I’m glad I stopped to watch. Like Katz, I hope that one day, we have both men and women who don’t just laugh when their friends say something degrading about women but speak out to become leaders of change.

Enough said…please watch.

Darwin’s Freedom

My first Daily Post Challenge! The idea was to post about metamorphosis – from human to animal or vice-versa. (Look at the link. It’s all explained much better there). This is my response to it, for hopefully, your reading pleasure:

Darwin always knew Mother should never have let that crazy man move into their house. Her latest was the seventh in a string of alcoholic abusive boyfriends in the past year. But this one, was worse than the others. He not only beat up Mother, but while she lay crumpled on the floor covered in blood, he often went into Darwin’s room and beat him too till he wasn’t able to cry out anymore and just lay there, waiting for it to stop. He hated the way people looked at him the next day. He hated the questions people asked him in school. He was tried of pretending to be the clumsiest boy in the ninth grade. He had lost count of the number of times he tried to get his mother to just leave everything and go away with him…to start afresh somewhere. But, she had been too afraid. She stayed. While all he wanted was for them to be free. Her boyfriend has ensured part of his wish last night. He hit her too hard too many times…she wouldn’t wake up. Darwin tried to stop it, but couldn’t until it was too late. He had hit him with a cricket bat and then run for his life… 

For a couple of hours, that was all he had done, run…constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Ever fearful that Mother’s boyfriend might suddenly appear behind him his evil face poking out from between the trees. He reached the stream and bent down to scoop up some water to parch his dry throat, but stopped remembering that the papers said something about a dangerous mutative toxin that had been released into the water supply. He sat down for a minute, to rest his aching legs when he heard it, the snap of a branch behind him.

He scarcely had time to turn before Mother’s boyfriend said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing kid? Come back with me…NOW! I’ve got this nasty bump on my head that I think you had something to do with….it’s payback time don’t you think???”, and he snarled at him.

Darwin looked from the gurgling water in the stream to the madman standing in front of him, swinging the bat menacingly. He made a choice…

Darwin fell face forward into the stream drinking up as much of the water as he could before starting to run again, taking the man standing before him by surprise. But, Darwin couldn’t get too far before the toxins began to work in him and he collapsed on the ground, the pain almost too much to handle. His mother’s last boyfriend looked on in confused amazement as Darwin suddenly took flight….he was a beautiful white dove…

In the air, soaring high, Darwin deposited a little parcel on his mother’s boyfriends bald shiny head and laughed, he was finally free.

Woes of women

This morning, there was an article in the newspaper about a woman who was slapped by a relatively high ranking police officer for protesting against the brutal rape of a five year old child in the national capital. You tell me which part of that headline you find most appalling…

I’m from India and most of the time, I’m super proud to be Indian. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Am I patriotic? Probably not. I doubt I would lay down my life for the country or anything, but, I’m loyal to India…except when I read or hear or watch how absolutely miserably we fare when it comes to dealing with crimes against women.

I am aware that women and children (both boys and girls) are molested, abused and raped everywhere in the world, but, somehow, the fact that every second article in the newspaper is about some woman in some city in the country being taken advantage of worries the hell out of me…further, the fact that so many of those rapes are of minors freaks me out completely.

Why is it that when the victim is female, she is not given comfort and assurance that the culprit will be punished severely? Why is she instead treated like somehow the whole thing is her fault? For going to the police to report a rape, women are often ridiculed or beaten up or jailed and in some of the more extreme cases even ostracized from the towns they live in while the jackasses who can’t keep it in their pants roam around freely able to cause others emotional and physical trauma at will. Most of the girls I know have been groped, pinched, kissed or worse by absolutely strange men at least once in their life so far. It is likely that it will happen again. The occurrence of the event is bad enough, but, what is worse is that most of the girls I know (myself included) have accepted it as routine and done nothing about it. But, what would we do? When rapes are not treated seriously enough, how could something as small as a kiss?

Last year, the rape of one young girl made the headlines for weeks together and through her suffering and finally death, the country woke up and announced more stringent laws dealing with heinous crimes of all types. But, men here don’t seem to be afraid of laws like that. They still go on doing what they are doing without fear of capture or punishment.

How have we become a society that couldn’t care less about our women? How do the males of our species believe it’s alright to do the things they do to children, in so many disgusting cases their own? How do those in authority blame the way women dress for molestation? How can an elected neanderthal cite the rise in fast food consumption as the cause for increase in the number of rapes in his constituency?? How do our politicians recommend decrease in the legal age for marriage as a solution to the rape problem? How is marrying the man who raped you justice? Why are these sort of terrible crimes unpunished or not given strict enough punishment? WHAT THE HELL ARE WE TEACHING OUR MEN???

I have so many angry questions and not nearly enough answers….sigh…I wish we lived in a safer India…a safer world…one where it wasn’t so hard to be a woman…