One Gallow, For One Town

《Chapter One》

Zilla Donner. Dead.
Hung. Dead. Gone. Zilla was a girl who's name really represented how she felt. Zilla means,"Shadow, Shame, and Gloom." She always seemed to like the shadows better, and I don't judge her, the shadows are one of the only places where we can hide from the,"Higher Class."
The Higher Class, worthless demeaning pigs. The Higher Class should be dead. All of them. And let us "Lower Class," watch, laugh, and never have a thought of grief about them.
As Zilla's mom unties the noose from Zilla's neck and gathers the prettiest of flowers, she prepares for her final goodbye to her daughter. Zilla's mother, Mallory, stares at her daughter, her last chance of continuing her family's name.
My brother, Jolon, asks,"What did Zilla even do?"
"She was caught setting illegal snares, that only the 'Higher Class' can do," replies my dad as he glares down at his broken shoes.
"Oh.....," says Leah, my little sister. Leah doesn't get what happens to a person after they're hung. Leah and Tristan, my younger siblings, they both are confused by what happens. They are both my little siblings that I have to protect from the harm that comes from the Higher Class.
"If only Mallory had another child to continue her family's name............" Stated my older sister, Cecilia. Cecilia is blind. She's the luckiest of us all. She didn't have to see Brone being killed last year, she's so lucky.
"Persephone, we need to figure out what your job is going to be. We've been holding it up for to long...." My mom said.
"Mom I don't think I really need a job, most children don't even have jobs!" My mom has been trying to get me to get a job for the longest time. She keeps repeating over and over what job I could have.
"What about a shoe cleaner, or a-a maid!!"
"Mom! I'm not going to have a sissy job! Being a shoe cleaner or a maid is stupid!!!"
"What about a hunter?" replied Jolon. Jolon has been working as a hunter with my dad ever since he was my age. Although the only thing that worries me is the fact that I could end up like Zilla.....
"Sure!"
"No!!" yelled my mom. "She can't be a hunter!!! She's a lady!!!"
"Zilla was!!!"
"Zilla's dead!!!!!"
"I think being a hunter would be great for Persephone," my father pitched in. He wasn't wrong I hate cleaning! I can't imagine being a shoe cleaner or a maid!
"Persephone, this is serious! You can't be goofing around-the-clock, you'll be dead otherwise!!" My mom's face was turning a bitter red, my gray cheeks were almost turning purple of distress.
"She's fine, we'll take care of her," my dad said convincingly.
"Fine!! But if she comes up dead Mort!!! I-I-I don't want to make another coffin!!" My mom's face is mad, she clearly hasn't gotten over with what happened to Brone. Once again, Cecilia is so lucky to be blind, to not have nightmares of what happened last year, she can only try to imagine.
"You won't have to build another coffin!!!!!" Cecilia's face is a putrid red, binding together with her face. Even though she never witnessed the building of the coffin for Brone, you can tell by her face she is fed up with our mom.
"She'll be fine," Jolon said calmly.

Later that night, I find myself staring at the broken, wooden, dreadful ceiling of my, "room." We have two,"rooms." One for my parents and one for me and my siblings. Cecilia, my mother, and my father are asleep. I have to put Leah and Tristan to bed while Jolon checks our snares, which unlike Zilla's are legal.....
As I tuck Leah and Tristan under their hay, I have to persuade them how they will not be in the next "show," for the Higher Class. And how they will not be put in the,"big scary thing with a noose." I feel so bad for them. I didn't worry about this sort of thing when I was their age, then again we still had Brone with us when I was their age........
"Are we going to be alright Persephone?" Leah asked
As the question finally sinks in, I don't know what to say, exept for what Brone would say......"Guys, I'm not sure......But that doesn't mean anything, and know what? Once we die we get to see Brone again! Won't that be great?"
"Persephone, why do we live by these rules?" Tristan asks.
"Why can't we change these rules, Persephone?" asks Leah.
"That's a question for another day," I kissed their heads, silently congratulated myself for talking like Brone, and walked to my hay pile, hoping that that will have a good night sleep.
But as soon as I get to my own hay pile, the questions sink in. Why can't we change the rules, why do we live by these rules without even fighting back? Why don't we fight back? And why don't we let the Higher Class have a taste of their own medicine, and let them see what it feels like to be in a gallow. Why doesn't anyone start strikes, protests, or even a "show," for the Lower Class to watch?
As morning rung through the broken ceiling of our house, the hay we're using for blankets stiffens, the whole town comes alive. Leah and Tristan's questions kept trying to process completely through my brain, but I just can't process why we haven't fought back.
I walk over to Leah's small face, covered with blonde - ash hair, decomposing dust of our broken ceiling from when the Higher Class guards broke in to take Brone, I see even the faintest bit of hope, even when she's sleeping.
I unwrap the stiffened hay from around my sister's arms, leaving her only covered with her oversized, dirt covered shirt, and the identical bracelet that Brone made with her before he passed away. Well, before Brone was killed.
I sit down looking at the sun dappling across Leah's small face and realized she's probably the bravest of us all. Never crys. Didn't moan when Brone was layed in his hand made wooden casket, just tightened their identical bracelets around each of their wrists, and stared at the killer.
"Persephone? What are you doing?" Tristan. Young Tristian. I look at Tristan and can't help seeing his gray eyes stare into mine, his dark, almost black hair, letting the sunbeams dance on his hair. He, just like the rest of my family, is precious.
"Just about to wake you and Leah up," Tristan's oversized, worn out red shirt covered with dirt, is the only thing besides the hay that was keeping him alive over night, he's fragile.
"Then let's not let sleeping beauty over here sleep!"
"Who's sleeping and why are they sleeping?" Leah is awake. Her eyes twinkling with hope and laughter.
"You were!!!" Just then Tristan jumped on her, pushing her to the ground with such force.
"Tristian get off her!" I couldn't help laughing. "Leah are you all right?"
"Yeah, why are you laughing," answers Leah as she gets on her feet for the first time today.
"Beeeecause!!! I'm hilarious! Seeeeeee? Blehhhh!!!" Tristian flinged his arms out, trying to make a joke out of himself.
"What's all the noise about?" Cecilia. Cecilia is usually woken by Tristan and Leah by trying to tug her out of her hay, who can take the hay off Cecilia faster, and who can annoy her awake first. These games can all be hard for them to pull off since Cecilia is blind and she can't tell half of the time who is who.
"Guys! Stop messing around! You guys need to get started with your chores," then my mother looks at me. "Persephone you are going to be a maid with me today."
Today was supposed to be my first day as a hunter, I thought I would have "fun," today! Now I have to go into one of the Higher Class's house and just clean, work, belly ache over their delicious food, and maybe get a death threat.
"Mom, I thought today Persephone was going to get to hunt with dad and I," Jolon pitched in as he tried to help me not have to be a maid for the pampered Higher Class.
"I know, I know. I thought so too, but I want Persephone, just for today, to be a maid. Just so she can get a starter, you know one that couldn't possibly get her killed.
"Honey, being a maid could get her killed even easier," my dad pressed.
" I know, but if she wants to be a hunter she has to spend the day as a maid, just for today." My mom's face was tilted downward, in a low way. Her blonde hair covering a quarter of her face, along with the look of distraught.
"I'll go get your dress mommy...'cause I'm the good one!" Tristian says. As he crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out at Leah. And he's running across the broken floor to a hay pile, about five feet away, where we keep our nice clothes. (Only used for special occasions)
"I'll get your dress Persephone," Leah, unlike Tristan, doesn't think about crossing her arms, or giving a sibling a dirty look, just runs down to the hay pile, trips on a hole in the floor,and falls to the floor, while grabbing my old dress.
"Tristian, Leah, really there's no bother for that because we're going to need those dresses for Zilla's funeral later today," my mom says with despair as she looks down, then bursts her head up with a phony smile. "Plus on the contrary, the house we're going to provides maid gowns, so we'll be fine."
Tristian and Leah look at each other, frown, then drop the dresses in the hands. Honestly, I hope neither one of them have to get a job as stupid as a maid or butler.
Later that day I'm staring at a gate to the biggest house in town, the gate has molded in golden flowers, hummingbirds, human hearts, feathers, and ribbons. More expensive then our house and everything else we own.
My mother walks me to the changing room with ease since she is a maid, then securely ties the ribbon around my waist, gives me a towel, and cleaning spray. I'm instructed to work on the corridor leading to the dining room and polish everything on the wall, and there are a lot of things on the wall.
And then I notice it. My heart jumped as I saw the very thing my brother, Jolon's name means, a dead valley of oak trees, but in a painting. Not any valley with any trees, but the one in which everyone to ever have died as a Lower Class has been buried. I stare at it for a long time until I see Brone's grave. And Zilla's.
"Zilla hasn't been buried yet," I mumble with disbelief. "How?" I stare at the stone grave. "Gray, heart engraved, cross," I mumble while trying to take it as a mental note. "Inscription,'Good daughter, good girl, precious, but breakable .'"
Brone's painting though, showed his whole grave and the valley. It was beautifully painted except for the engraving in the frame,'Our favorite show, hard to break, fun to chase, and kill, but in the end so breakable.' I easily stroked my fingers against Brone's painting wondering why they have so much fun killing people.
When all of a sudden, just as my fingers were slipping off Brone's grave, a loud, plump, very well fed woman orders me,"Maid! Get your hands off that!! Don't you know who made that!!!"
"No," I say wondering why this plump lady gets to tell me what to do.
"It's made by Emily During's daughter! What a wonderful painter that girl is," then she turns to me with her face wrinkled up and her eyes clenched against her plump face. "Don't touch that!! Now come on, your mother should be done soon,you can come to the dinning room and wait."
So she walked me down the corridor into the dinning room, my eyes can only be imaging, because what I see is better than the gate to this house. I'm staring at a little red haired girl, at the end of the table with a fully stocked plate of what looks like our roast from our pigs, mashed potatoes, bread, broccoli, bean stew, and a fizzy, but clear drink of water. Then what seems to be the full-time maid has me sit down on the opposite side of the long table, directly across from the little red haired girl
"Pick whatever you want to eat and drink," says the plump woman. Honestly I want to try everything, knowing it will be delicious! I just don't know where to start.
After a while I sit they're shoveling down my third plate of food, while the red head has only had one. "This all is delicious!" I say with a full muffled mouth.
"Wow! You Lower Class people are always hungry!"
"Well, not exactly. See in my home my brother and dad set snares, my mother helps out here, my older sister Cecilia gathers corn, and my two yonger siblings take care of our pigs and help Cecilia with the corn." I clear my throat. "There are much more unfortunate families than us."
The looks on the maid's face is impressive, her folded brows, her mouth slightly opened. Although, the little red head looks at me as if she's known about this.
Then, I look down at my almost empty plate of food and say,"It's hard to get meat because we don't have any weapons like you Higher Class do. We have to make our own. I mean we can't go welding around weapons, to bad for my kind...." Then I raise my head and say,"And my brother." The maid sits down next to me, pats me on the back and becomes quiet. The little red head on the other hand opens her mouth to speak, yet closes it back shut.
My mother rushes in to the dinning room sweat clinging to her face,"Persephone, come on we're going to be late!" I stand up, brush off my dress, and get pulled by my mother.
By the time we reach the outside of the gate we have to rush home so my mother can try to fix the broken ends of my jet black hair and put it in braids. As soon as I'm done changing we're off. Not talking to anyone, as we run to the valley of dead oaks. When we get there we stop to see Mallory. Her face is drenched in tears, she looks as if her skin is peeling under the disappointment. Her hair neatly brushd and spun into curls. Her dress is black with brushed edges. And her shoes are perfect black shoes except for the hole in her left foot.
"Go say good bye to Zilla," my dad says as he leans over, brushing his fingers against my shoulder.
As I go say good bye to Zilla is see the maid and Red head. I simply wave and keep walking. But, when I get to Zilla's grave, I notice something. It's the exact same as the painting. Why would they keep a painting of a tombstone and how do they already have it painted?!
As I start looking around frantically for an answer I see something, in the corner of my left eye I notice sitting next to the Red head is a slender, dark brown haired girl, dressed in all black, who is leaning over a easel and canvas, painting the scene of us morning currently of Zilla's death.