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Vengeance Is Not Ours

The narrator is a blind beggar child asking for alms and mercy. Five years ago, when the child was happier with their mother and father, Japanese soldiers arrested the father. The child and mother followed the soldiers and witnessed the father being hanged. Seeking vengeance, the child cried out for retaliation after their father's death and mother's legs were blown off by bombs. With her dying words, the mother told the child "Vengeance is not ours, it's God's." The child is now left alone and blind, repeating the mother's lesson that vengeance belongs to God, not people.

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Mei Braña
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143 views1 page

Vengeance Is Not Ours

The narrator is a blind beggar child asking for alms and mercy. Five years ago, when the child was happier with their mother and father, Japanese soldiers arrested the father. The child and mother followed the soldiers and witnessed the father being hanged. Seeking vengeance, the child cried out for retaliation after their father's death and mother's legs were blown off by bombs. With her dying words, the mother told the child "Vengeance is not ours, it's God's." The child is now left alone and blind, repeating the mother's lesson that vengeance belongs to God, not people.

Uploaded by

Mei Braña
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd

VENGEANCE IS NOT OURS

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so
ragged. Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why
are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know
me five years ago?

Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother and I shared with each
other. We were very happy indeed.

Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover
our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar
where they cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm, but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were
glued to the floor.

The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared
the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father
roughly away from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.

We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how
our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating,

Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . .. Oscar/Celia. . .. Consuelo. . .. Oscar/Celia. . .. Consuelo. .
.. Oscar/Celia. . . ...” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw father hanging on a
tree. . .. dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had been badly beaten before he died. . .. and I cried vengeance,
vengeance, vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our
hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the way to the hide-out.

Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere.
“Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my
arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar/Celia... Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.

But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No,
Oscar/Celia... Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother before she died.

Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter. That
was five years ago, five years. . ..

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so
ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . .. It’s. . .. God’s…. It’s…

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