I’m going to share one from the archives. Think this only ever got 1 view as it was done before almost all of you started reading me.
Only theincessant scratch scratch scratch of quill on parchment breaks the stonysilence. Head down, failing eyes squintingthe gnarled hand grips the long gull feather with aching fingers.The thick leather bound ledger, with its yellowing pages, drinks in each slow and deliberate mark he makes. Each page filled with names, amounts, dates. Simple transactions in a ledger. A dark celebration of the efficiency of books well kept.He looks up as the door swings open slowly,wincing as the late afternoon sun streams through illuminating the room within.The scratching stops. Both the sunlight and the stranger are not welcome, and already he knowswhat happens next.
The dilapidated strangerstands before him, cap in hand and eyes filled with a sadness he has seen so often in so many men in these recent years.
“I am looking for my wife and children” he states quite calmly, voice trembling. “You sold them 7 years ago and…
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