But perhaps the most disturbing thing was that no one complained about any of it. As if it were natural. To live every single one of their lives for nothing but work. Their fathers and mothers, and even their generation before that, had done the same. Lived their lives in the same manner.
Old hands were calloused.
Young hands were blackened.
Women had their backs bent.
Face dismembered,
Children watched their mothers and sisters raped, violated by the wicked guards and governors of the place.
But the soulless people of this place had gotten so used to it all that, despite all of it.
When the night fell, they could sleep with their tired and battered bodies.
They slept with a smile on their faces.
But there was one boy who was curious, passionate, who longed for more. Like any children, perhaps, to escape the coiled black mountain-like borders of this place.
