“You will forget
” she said.
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” she said.
” she said.
the queen announced a festival. She said the land was blessed. Drums played. People danced. No one spoke of the missing children.
someone knocked on my door.
“Be careful.”
but I knew I could not. The gates were locked at night.
the child was still.
but no sound came out.
but she was not moving.
” 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.
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 crying. Not loud. Soft. Like someone trying not to be heard. It came from the inner room
I heard things.
they laughed it off. “She has good blood
at first.
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
She smiled while the child stopped breathing.
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