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Short Story: Mariska

Decent Essays

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Harvest feast dances? Fests measuring sheep’s milk? Steeping and hacking flax? These were not activities that Ava wanted to dedicate her life to. Harvesting grain, working from daybreak until sunset? Not for her!
Gone was laughter in the streets. Gone were the smiles, now. The village was about as welcoming as the nest of a Wallachian eagle.
Villagers were now reduced to boiling leaves and tree bark and feeding grass to their families, so they wouldn’t starve. Gypsy families, once so confident and smug, were barely surviving, enduring bellies wracked with pain, killing pets and eating birds and insects to survive.
Even Mariska’s family approached life with a dead weariness and grave discipline. After months of starvation,

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