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Short Stories (Stories for the Youth), book by Father Tadros Yacoub Malaty

322- I Killed my Son

 

St-Takla.org Image: Two men. صورة في موقع الأنبا تكلا: رجال، رجلان.

A Russian man opened his door to find a well-dressed man that appeared quite wealthy.

The visitor stood examining the man. Finally, he could hold himself no longer and embarrassed him saying, “Don’t you recognize me? I’m your childhood friend, Alex.”

The man could not believe it. He asked, “Where were you all these years?”

The visitor answered, “I immigrated to a far land. God blessed my way and I became wealthy. I came so that you may prepare a way for me to meet my parents.”

The two sat together and invited old friends. They all agreed that he would go to his father’s house in disguise to surprise him. The next morning they would all arrive there with a musical group and introduce them to one another.

 Alex knocked at his parents’ door and they accepted him in as a visitor. He paid generously for food and lodging. The two elderly parents could not recognize him but thought him to be a rich tourist, especially after seeing his pockets bulging with money. The man and his wife agreed to kill the visitor so as to take hold of his money. At midnight, the old woman carried a dim torch, followed by her husband. They entered his room while he was sleeping. He had a beautiful smile on his face, most probably dreaming of his encounter the next day with his parents. The elderly man became compassionate but his wife asked that he must hurry. He stabbed his son one big stab that took his life. They then both spent the rest of the night covering their crime.

The next morning, all the friends came and inquired where the visitor was. The elderly woman denied ever seeing him. Finally, one of them said, “Wait, woman. That visitor is your only son. He returned from his traveling and agreed with us to present him to you.”

When they heard this, they fell down to the floor screaming, “We killed our son.”

→ English translation of the story here at St-Takla.org: قتلت ابني.

How many times do You come to me O Giver of Life,

And in my ignorance and cruelty I kill You (Acts 3:11)!

Each hurtful word that proceeds from me kills You O Tenderhearted.

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