The queen

This is where all of it ends

From Paulina Senior's book:

I was twenty four then.
I used to live in a small house of a slum at Wattensburgh. I was an employee at the Northern branch of Orchid Nursing home and the Research Institute. To be precise i joined as a clerk there and later promoted as the nurse of Orchid. In those times among women only the prostitutes used to go to work. That was the common way the upper classes used to think like. People in the slum and around the slum knew i was a nurse. The rest were specially the early risers of the Granthole street still pointed at me as a 'prostitute' when i walked to Orchid at six in the morning.
I never paid an attention. In fact it never mattered to me.
Basically Orchid was a charity nursing home so it is needless to say how irregularly we were paid that too never the promising amount. I had my love and dreams surrounding this Nursing Home.
I wanted to be the doctor since the time i learnt to dream. But lack of money prevented me to take the right education. Without a certificate I could still treat a patient but never was given credit of being a doctor.

That day was also a normal day like any other day. It was winter. In those times when motorvehicles were not invented and the industries gave out lesser smoke, the flowers still bloomed during winter. Granthole street was always colourful with flowers at every season. Be it winter or summer. So it was a pleasure to walk through the place even when i had to spare angry disgusted looks of uneducated wives of nobles at Granthole.
After Granthole lies the Golar town where lies the palace. Golar town was not a town certainly. It was just another place like Granthole Street. 'Golar' comes from a traditional language which means Heaven Valley. Through the outskirts of  Golar town i took turn right everyday and reached Orchid through Melan.
In my way was the Palace Gallery where animal fight show were displayed. Even the human-animal fight show was also performed. Towards further North was the big theatre and in the North East at the heart of Golar town was the castle.
I never have been to the gallery. Watching animal fight show was the habit of some millionaire gentlemen who took pride to be able to enjoy it. But i have been to theatre many times.
When i walk to Orchid the gallary remains deserted and calm accompanying with smoky mist in the winter.

That day it was supposed to be deserted. Instead i saw crowds. People at early morning accumulated over there. Something amazing must have been going on.
"What is it going on, sir?" I asked somebody.
He said casually, "some man has been caught of robbery so he is been sentenced of being executed in public."
This was not something new. Citizens of Wattensburgh are honest. Theft and robbery was hardly heard of. But if caught, that would literary be his last day.

I had no intention or interest to stop by and watch the frightful circus. People of Golar Town and Granthole Street could get to see such amusing circus at least once every month. But never have the Royal family felt it too necessary to disturb their early morning sleep and start their day by killing.
Then why is today an exception?
I had no reason to stand there and smell blood. But that day...
I felt a sudden sorrow inside me that a man was dying!

Is it always that the king takes the right decision by killing a thief or robber?
Probably- by any chance- if he is spared today he may turn into a good man.

My thoughts were too soft decibled too be heard by anybody and even if so nobody would care to pay an attention.

I looked at the large crowd infront of me. I made my mind to resume in my journey to Orchid. The Nursing Home gates woulb be open within half an hour. I could not afford to be the second comer at Orchid. But an unknown urge was stopping me. I felt to laugb at myself.

It is insane

A force stopped me again and again. I could not turn back and ignore whatever was happening.
My mind cried it out