Dreaded roses. Suppressed laughter. Crying crows. Another beautiful afternoon bestowed upon earth- her lashes thicker, hair curled, honey-inducing smile; stunning of a lady she was.

Me and my brother also had that afternoon quite sunny, though more than a blessing it was a skin-crawling curse, a curse that tore apart the rich from the poor, the crows from the peacocks, the roses from the hydrangeas, the peasants from the aristocrats- poverty, hunger, famine. Three words, volumes of horror history. I wonder what sort of illicit misdeed the letters must have committed to form such dreadful words.

“Look pigeons!!!”
The roar of my brother echoed in my ears in pure agony as he pointed at the white spirits feeding off the cabbage yard in Mr.Harland’s house. For such saintly representation, they almost looked beastly tearing and ripping the fragile leaves off the plant. They ate with so much passion it almost made me ring in jealousy.
“Even those dumb birds are getting food to fill their guts with. When am I going to get something, Lucy? I’ve been literally starving for three straight days.”
“Henry, just wait for a bit. Father told he might try asking Mr.Thomas for some grains. He’ll be back anytime soon. Let’s just give ourselves some hope rather than getting infuriated by some speechless birds.“
“But that’s exactly what you told me last weekend. And I don’t think that arrogant Thomas is going to give anything free. The only reason he gave last time was because grandfather and his...