I am not much fond of 55-fiction as it limits my scope and truthfully, I’m not good at it. This 55-er that you are about to read was not written as a 55 but coincidentally became one. It is very different from the usual reads, and doesn’t follow any of the rules except it is of 55 words (exactly). Bharathi’s posts about questioning were an inspiration for the idea. And as the header goes, you understand that this is a question. A profound one. Of practises, of beliefs, of faith and of misuse.
“Mercy!”, he screamed. “Mercy! Mercy!”
With a silver knife, he slashed his hands, his feet as he screamed. The bloodied whip lay at his feet, its evidence prominent in the glittering red tracks it had left on his back!
“Penance! I’m paying my penance!! Penance for my birth!” He screamed on.
The altar stared, unmoved.