Merciful or Merciless? a writing practice with Memoir

Fire leaps at rapid pace, gushing from molting lava at the root, daring to devour even the largest dragon.  The arsonist will not rest until all the pain lies silently beside the spineless predator in smoldering ashes.  It is not the brave, but the sinister coward who waits in shadows to capture the soul of a child, as a fire fly in a jar.

Yet the belly of the fire fly sends SOS signals.  The wings flutter. The child rises from the ashes like a Phoenix eclipsing the light of day from the space on Earth where the perpetrator lives and breathes.

As he lays withering in those same shadows, he becomes the dying thing he tried to kill.  Desperate for mercy and redemption, he begs for a drop of water, a slice of kindness.  And who would dare to forgive him of all his vexatious depravity?  Who would let go of an opportunity to exterminate the pedophile?  Who would offer forgiveness in the place of justice for his own daughters?

My father.