One Gallow, For One Town

As my family and I suffer daily by putting our back into every job we do. By seeming like dirt to the Higher Class because of, scavenging like wild animals for anything, scraps of bread, raw fish, even some lightly drenched dirt with goat milk. Whatever it takes. We witness others in dresses, so fine. People in shoes, people who's hair is not considered,"a bird's nest." These are the people who laugh, who have fun, who waste their food, and fuss if there's a little tangle in their hair. Where my family on the other hand, are always sad, never laugh, hardly ever have "fun," eat every scrap of food we can find, never fuss over a single thing. In fact I don't think I've ever seen my brother, Jolon, laugh. My brother, Jolon, never laughs. Although the Higher Class, they snort out their little phony laughs so much, I'm so tempted to lock them up in the pen with our pigs, cover them in mud, feed them "slop," and hang them in a Gallow. Yes, a Gallow. People such as my family, the "Lower Class," has to witness the fear of watching our loved ones, and people they don't know die. Constently. In a gallow. Almost every day. People like me try to hide this from our younger siblings, shield them from the pain, and hope that by tomorrow that we won't be the next "show," for the people of the of the Higher Class. If we do something bad, nudge our way through the law just a little bit, we're hung. Not hung in private, for only our family and friends to see, but hung for parshley the entrainment of the Higher Class. Oh, how I'd like to show them, show them all, that us "Lower Class," is not just here for them to play with us. Me, an 11 year old girl, imagining hundreds of gallows, each one for each person of the,"Higher Class." It's a pretty satisfying thought.