Monsters

He found her in the conservatory staring at a table covered in photographs.

‘They came to tell me about my grandfather,’ she said.  ‘He was a Nazi.’

‘Your grandfather?’
‘He was an engineer at Treblinka.  He was a monster.  He killed hundreds of thousands of people.’

‘They must be wrong.’

‘No,’ she pointed at the photographs, ‘it’s him.  I’m the granddaughter of a monster.  Our children could be monsters.’

‘By that reasoning everybody could be a monster.’

‘No!  The millions who were murdered, they weren’t monsters.  They were innocent victims!  How can we atone for that?  Our bloodline and deeds?’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.