His Father sat up in his chair then spoke, "Your punishment, due to your actions, I do believe should be a big one. So, your punishment is going to be that I cannot have you do jobs or volunteering, not even community services. I cannot ground you either, so your punishment will hurt, but the pain will make you listen." He stopped talking and then called for one of the servants, "Richard bring me the rod from my room"
Now twelve year old a was very unhappy he knew he should never have touch his father's rifle. Oh how bad he had been plus he did not even know the rifle.was loaded and he accidentally shot his younger brother, lucky for him the doctor said the boy would be fine.
The mention of the rod made the twelve-year-old's heart sink. He had seen his father use it before, and it never ended well. Richard, the servant, returned with the rod and handed it to the father in silence.
His father's stern expression remained unchanged as he took the rod from Richard's hands. The atmosphere in the room became heavy with anticipation. The boy's heart raced, knowing what was to come next.
"Stand up," his father commanded, his voice filled with disappointment.
Reluctantly, the boy rose from his seat, his legs trembling slightly. He glanced down at his hands, still stained with the consequences of his actions. Guilt washed over him, and he struggled to hold back tears.
His father stood up, towering over him with the rod held firmly in his hand. With each step his father took, the boy's fear intensified.
"You have endangered your brother's life, ignored my warnings, and acted irresponsibly," his father said, his voice laced with sadness. "It's time for you to learn the gravity of your actions."
Without hesitation, his father raised the rod and struck the boy's outstretched hand. Pain shot through his small body as the sting of each blow registered. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He knew his father's punishment was not without reason.
The blows continued to rain down, sending waves of agony through his young frame. Each strike served as a reminder of the consequences of his impulsive decision. It hurt physically, but more than that, it hurt his heart to disappoint his father so greatly.
As the rod crashed against his palms, the boy understood the intention behind his father's actions. It wasn't just punishment; it was a lesson in responsibility, remorse, and the importance of listening to authority. He vowed to never repeat his mistake, to never put his loved ones in danger again.
Finally, his father stopped. The room fell silent, save for the boy's laborious breaths and the occasional sniffle. The pain remained, but he understood the value of his father's discipline.
His father embraced him, pulling him into a tight hug. "I hope you've learned your lesson, son," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of love and concern.
Through the tears and the lingering pain, the boy managed a nod. He knew it would take time for the wounds on his hands to heal, but the pain would fade away eventually. What would remain was the valuable lesson that his father had taught him, a lesson he would carry with him for the rest of his life.