Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
The journal held my focus. My gaze swung downward helplessly, picking up the next entry.
July 9
I talked to Granny about the rancid food order last week. She promised to talk to the suppliers.
She’s usually so good about looking after the village but this is the third time this has happened, and her response was exactly the same as the last two times. I get that I’m supposed to stay healthy because the village relies on my ability to make product, but several families didn’t get enough. Little Maggie was crying at market a couple days ago because she was hungry. I can’t, in good conscience, get my fill while others go hungry. If more doesn’t come as Granny promised, they could be in trouble.
The day ended as all the others had, with a memory of her mother. This one was of a rare feast they’d enjoyed like kings after her mother had found a gold coin in the street. I got the impression Aurelia hadn’t had constant and plentiful meals when in her mother’s care. They seemed to move around a lot, their homes never consistent. Had they been on the run, even then? Had whatever killed the mother then followed little Aurelia?
Curiosity ate at me.
I flipped another page, desperate to find answers to this enigma.
August 11
Alexander paid me a visit today. My ribs hurt from where he repeatedly punched me. I don’t think anything is broken, but it hurts to breathe. I guess it’s a good thing no one talks to me because I won’t be surprised by any jokes. Laughing would hurt like hell.
I shouldn’t have told Granny that I’ve been giving some of my rations away when the food comes in rotten. I wasn’t prepared to lie, though. I hadn’t realized I’d lost weight.
I get why I was punished, because yes, I know I need to make the product, but honestly, this situation cannot go on. It can’t!
Granny got all stony when I told her that. She doesn’t like when I get angry and likes it even less when I push back. But it had to be said. Everyone else in the village is too scared to say anything.
What’s really frustrating is they won’t take my rations if I hand it to them. If I take what’s mine and then distribute, they won’t accept the food they need. They’d rather let it go off than take it for their children from a “magic-less cur.” So I have to just take what I need to keep most of my weight on and let them have the extra.
At least they are distributing it how I most likely would have. The end result is the same, I guess, but come on, really?! No thank you? No acknowledgement? They won’t even take the fucking food because it was me who gave it? It’s such bullshit.
Sometimes this village just seems like a soulless, unforgiving place. A hollow place, filled with empty smiles and passionless chatter. People seemed really happy when Granny first started her business and was fixing things. There was a lot of food and new products and stuff for everyone then. Now, though, people don’t seem as thrilled. I guess hunger will do that to a person.
Granny needs to fix this food issue. It’s the main reason people were excited for this new setup. I remember that. Until then, I guess I’ll get really good at stretching food resources.
There wasn’t a memory that time. Just a simple and heartbreaking: I miss you, Mom. I miss our happy home, wherever it was. I miss your cuddles and your stories. I’m lonely. Maybe someday soon I’ll see you again. More and more, I think I’d like that better than this.
I flipped the page, oblivious to my surroundings. Trees passed, scents floated by, but I didn’t notice any of them, so intent I was on the next passage.
September 20
I guess it wasn’t just me that got punished this time.
I’ve lost more weight and Granny was concerned. Alexander really took to me today. I have two black eyes, definitely a broken rib, and bruises all over my body. Xarion came and visited. He brought me some broth.
Five other people got a visit from Alexander. All women—the mothers of the families that often got the extra rations. I guess they said they didn’t get it from me, that it was just what was left over and the kids needed it, but Granny didn’t believe them.
Plus side: this was why they wouldn’t take the food from me directly. They didn’t want Granny to find out they were taking what was mine. I don’t know why they couldn’t just tell me that instead of calling me a slur, but whatever. At least it isn’t me. Not totally, at any rate.
Bad news: I’m getting preferential treatment over children. I can’t accept that. I won’t.