“I was going to melt it for bread.”
The voice that answered was young. Too young. “Because at night, the ghosts of my family come looking for me. I ran away after the fever took them. I sleep in the old kiln. By day, I am hungry. By night, I am haunted.” the day jackal
The headman offered a reward: a sack of millet and a new blade. Men sharpened their sticks. Women painted curses on their doorsteps. Still, the thefts continued. “I was going to melt it for bread