She said she was chosen long ago. That the land needed blood to stay rich. That the children were gifts. That if she stopped
the land would die.
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the land would die.
” she said.
” she said.
“Be careful.”
someone knocked on my door.
the queen announced a festival. She said the land was blessed. Drums played. People danced. No one spoke of the missing children.
the child was still.
but I knew I could not. The gates were locked at night.
but no sound came out.
” the queen said. “Like the others.”
” she said.
the head maid sent me to bring water to the inner room. This had never happened before. My hands shook as I walked there.
but she was not moving.
the room smelled bad. Like blood and smoke. There were bowls on the floor. Dark stains on the mat. The queen stood near the wall. She was washing her hands.
it was one child. A boy who used to sell oranges near the gate. People said he ran away. Then a girl from the river side. Then another boy. Always poor children. Always children with no strong family.
I heard things.
I heard crying. Not loud. Soft. Like someone trying not to be heard. It came from the inner room
they laughed it off. “She has good blood
in a small town in West Africa. We had a queen. She was not born a queen. She married the king when he was already old. When he died
at first.
She smiled while the child stopped breathing.
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