THE crops are dead. A small stubble of wheat rises from the ground. My fist closes around it as I tug it from the ground. Useless. I sense the tears coming even before they spring to my eyes like ravens to a carcass. I have nothing left.
Words drill through my head: "You're dead. You're so dead." I cannot face my family right now. They hate me as it is, I dread to dwell upon what they will think of me now. This is it. That was our only supply of food left. No one can afford food now, not with the Purge. I have failed everyone.
Collapsing on the graveyard of wheat, I wept at the enormity of my mistake.
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Ficción General16 year old Caladium is a Crescent: an evil person. Her family hates her, her town hates her, the whole world hates her. But she's about to do something that will rip her tiny scrap of life to shreds.
