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Rated: E · Short Story · Family · #2135731
Lacks plotline or purpose. This is my first attempt to write a piece of fiction.
Unrecorded Testimony

“I can assure you, ma’am, I had no part in this enterprise, nor an intention of such a kind. The sole reason I have been suspected of the crime partnership is my mere appearance in the scene, which, although left the respectable officer devoid of any other option, was too late to be taken as a serious evidence. As those who know me can confirm, throughout my whole life, I have tried to choose the noblest of the paths offered by God and made no hesitation - believe me, not a single such an instance has happened – made no hesitation to sacrifice my own privileges for the good of others. It is no coincidence that - definitely no more than my appearance on the scene - it is no coincidence that I was actually on another of my good-intentioned missions. Yes, yes! Very good intentioned indeed, as you will be informed about in no time! So that, I have this neighbor of very noble character who has had some financial struggles lately. Let me add, ma’am, on behalf of this young lady that, she actually took this as a test from the God and not for a moment, so I have been informed at least, hesitated about His kindness…”
With this conversation on his head, Ali was heading for his charger when sudden step sounds spoiled his mood to such a degree that, in no time he revised all the conversation he had on his head to be assured about removal of any respect towards the second person.
-“What now, Ali?” said the voice loaded with tiredness of sleepless nights, a detail that had been there too long for Ali to notice, “Will you ever try to get along with your sister? Will we ever have a day without screams, fights, resentments? You are getting more spoiled every day!”
Had someone overheard the conversation the last sentence on, he would have no idea about the calm-headed beginning that had only eventually turned into this scream.
-“Yeah,” this murmur was the only thing that followed Ali’s failure of finding anything impressive to say. He surely had harsher words to say, though refrained maybe because of his respect to her mom, respect that is always there, no matter how low you see her, how much you loath her, how desperately you seek to hurt her. That fragile-looking line of respect has withstood countless tests before every single one of which it had shaken to breaking.
Preparing his bored ears for more denouncement, Ali was startled by the sight of her mom approaching him. Using force on a teen was the worst thing a mother could think of, indeed, and that was exactly what Ali was pondering, alongside with his deliberate curiosity of why he was frightened all of a sudden, of course. The answer of the last inquiry was clear – unexpected attack, whatever the source may be, causes excitement. This is an instinct, directly managed by vertebra, bypassing the brain. He could not have control over it. None had. The first inquiry soon received an answer too - a fortunate one. Mother had spotted a cut on his throat, way too deep to ignored even in middle of the fight.
“What is this?” she said, with as little show of care as possible, of course. “Nothing,” Ali nodded, with acute awareness of who was standing in front of her and what intentions she had, “just an accident. You just told me to shave.”
“Be careful,” was all the mom said, no longer hiding her anxiety.
Mom silently left the room. Ali was still roaming inside it, already occupied by counting the number of pages he had read today and paying little attention to the previous scene. The battle was over. Both sides had lost; and they had lost not to each other but to themselves.
It was another dawn in Tehran. Another day was over. One less day was left to look forward at and hope, one more day to look back at and regret.
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