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The wind had settled for the evening, and the air held a hush that only twilight brings. Emil sat on the porch, his elbows on his knees, staring out at the distant hills veiled in shadow. A news report had shaken him—another act of violence, another innocent life lost.

Grandfather stepped out with two cups of warm milk and handed one to Emil. “You’ve been quiet.”

Emil nodded, eyes still on the horizon. “I don’t understand, Grandfather. Why do people keep killing? How can someone believe violence will bring justice?”

Grandfather sat beside him and took a slow sip. “Violence,” he said, “is a boomerang. Even when thrown with purpose, it circles back. It strikes not only the intended, but the one who cast it.”

Emil turned to look at him.

“Taking a life,” Grandfather continued, “is never just the ending of a heartbeat. It creates ripples—grief, vengeance, trauma. One death opens the door to a thousand wounds. And the world becomes just a little darker.”

He paused, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s why the sacred texts say that to kill one innocent soul is like killing all of humanity. Each life is a thread in the great tapestry—cut one, and the pattern begins to unravel.”

Emil’s brow furrowed. “But what if people are angry? What if they feel it’s the only way to respond?”

Grandfather nodded. “That is the great test of life—not just to act, but to discern, and to follow law. Anger is like a storm—it clouds our judgment, distorts our vision. We strike when we should step back. The wise learn to wait for the storm to pass, to speak from clarity, not chaos.”

He placed a hand on Emil’s shoulder. “Reason is like the still surface of a lake—it reflects truth. Rage stirs the waters, and we lose sight of what’s beneath.”

Emil whispered, “So how do we stop it?”

“By remembering that every human life is sacred. That our actions echo in the lives of others, in ways we cannot always see. That justice pursued with violence is not justice—it’s another form of injury.”

They sat together in silence, watching the stars blink into the sky.

Then Grandfather added, “The greatest strength, Emil, is not in raising your hand—but in lowering your voice, calming your breath, and choosing mercy when anger tempts you to retaliate.”

Emil nodded slowly. “Violence might silence someone, but it never ends the pain.”

Grandfather smiled softly. “And true strength lies in ending pain, not multiplying it.”