The book was labelled The Farmer. It was the story of a farmer who had to work, growing his crops during farming season to feed his family, since it was the only thing they could afford to eat during these hard times.
He was working day and night without rest to make sure his crops wouldn't be stolen by others and would grow well. The farmer treated them like his little treasures, exactly the same way he treated his family. He would pass days without sleeping, even starving himself to give most of the food to his family.
He had 3 children and a wife. One day, the wife became sick. She began coughing blood, and moving became difficult for her, so she was stuck to her bed for endless days and nights. They couldn't save her since they didn't even know what disease she had, and affording a doctor was not an option available to them in their current situation. The only thing they could do was watch as the lady groaned in pain on her deathbed.
She gave her last breath on a cloudy morning. They had to bury the corpse far from the house since it would, after rotting, emit a foul stench. The farmer couldn't attend his wife's burial since he was afraid the food would be stolen. It was the children aged sixteen, fourteen and twelve respectively that had to dig the grave and bury their own mother. Once they placed the body, they waved her goodbye and covered her grave marking with a drawing the placement of it.
Only four remained.
Weeks after the mother's passing, the crops were slowly dying due to a reason the farmer was ignorant of. He stood there looking down at his field. In a spurt of anger, he threw his hoe at it and blamed it on the incapacity of his children to help him.
Due to his own selfishness and desperation to survive, he would take half of his harvesting to himself and leave the other half for the 3 children to share amongst themselves.
The eldest would always leave the younger ones to have the most of the food and sometimes even give his own share. Four days later, the eldest collapsed on the table due to hunger and was destined not to ever open his eyes.
The younger ones watched in horror at their brother's lifeless body in front of them. They desperately tried waking him up, calling out to his name, but he wouldn't budge an inch. They both knew there was no way of bringing him back. They had to bury him just like they did with their mother.
Far from the house at the same place where they buried their mother, they dug a grave for their fallen brother. They covered the body under the soil and waved him goodbye. Once again, the farmer couldn't attend his oldest son's burial due to his obsession with the possibility that his crops might be stolen in his absence. He hadn't even realised that it was because of his greed that his oldest son had passed, blaming it on the fact that it was their fault for not managing the food well that he had given them.
Only three remained.
After the eldest passed, the two younglings now had to deal with their father's increasing anger, drowning in his own sorrow due to the loss of his wife and eldest son. He beat them every time he could with the back of his hoe. The soil was already dry, and nothing could be grown there anymore. He had long accepted that they were doomed to all die, but did not try to change the distant fate lingering.
He kept all the crops harvested to himself, leaving barely any for his children, who were becoming thin and frail due to hunger. They were covered in bruises and marks on their body due to their father, yet they still pleaded him. They still believed that somewhere in there, they would still be able to bring back who their father once was before all this started.
At night, while the drunk farmer slept, the older brother sneaked into the storage room and stole some food for his younger brother, who was becoming weak and frail. He stole just enough for both of them to eat that night.
When morning rose, the farmer realised what had happened to his stolen crops and immediately blamed them for it. The younger one couldn't move; he was far too weak, so the older brother protected him.
He was beaten again and again, leaving stick marks on his arms, legs and torso. One night, the farmer struck down his son right on the head, and that was when he finally fell down to the floor, bleeding from the head; his skull had been cracked right open. After realising what he had done, the farmer ran outside screaming in horror, he had killed his child with his own two hands. It was at that moment that he had finally opened his eyes.
The younger one dragged his fallen brother's body to the grave where his mother and eldest brother were resting. And there, he took the shovel and dug; it took him days due to his exhaustion and weak body, yet he still dug. He buried his brother's corpse and finally waved him goodbye.
Only two remained.
After a while, the youngest came back home. He saw on the table a plate filled with food waiting for him. The moment he saw it, he ran to eat, and that was when his father came back. He shivered in fear realizing that it might've been the father's food, yet he didn't do anything and watched him eat as he sat down.
His eyes were already ones belonging to the dead. It wasn't the same father he once knew. His greed and anger had completely consumed him, carrying him through his end.
''I'm sorry.''
Those were the only words he could bring himself to say. The past could not be rewritten; what was done had already been engraved in a set stone. He left the house, closing the door behind him.
Curious, the child followed after his father, and that's when he saw his father lift a knife to his throat and strike it down upon himself. A scream of terror went out when the father saw his son running towards him.
He looked at him. He didn't want to die; he wanted to see them, he wanted to see his family, he wanted to go back to how things were before. The good old times when they were all laughing and playing around whenever they could. He wanted to see their smiles even if it was only one last time. It was a pointless wish. He knew that it would never take flight, yet still clung onto it.
''I do- wAn- to di-''
No one had stolen those from him; he, himself, destroyed them with his own two hands. The father embraced his son for a final moment before letting go of his last breath.
Surprisingly, the youngest didn't feel any revulsion nor disgust towards his father; rather, he was glad even if it was during his last moment. He was glad that his father still cared for them. His son dragged him to the grave and dug one for him in which he buried his body and waved him goodbye.
Only one remained.
The son went back to the house, and once he opened the door, he saw his family whole again, smiling and waving at him. He called out each one of their names.
''Mother?... Will?... Arrie?... Father?... All of you.''
He reached out his hand wanting to give them a hug, but as soon as he took a step towards them, the floor opened up, and he plummeted. Sinking in the endless darkness, but he was happy. Happy that he was able to see all of them one last time.
Only memories remained.
Before Silvia closed the book, she looked around only to realise the two children were already long gone asleep. She shed a tear looking at the book. As it was her husband's favourite book. He would read it every night without fail, always seeing more to what there was to the story. She missed her husband. It had been exactly six years since she last heard of him. For some reason, the memories of the time spent and the face of her husband were still blurry in her memory, but she was sure he existed; she was sure he would soon come back to them. Silvia got up to blow the little flame and wrapped both children around her, kissing them on the forehead, and she too soon fell into a deep slumber along with them.
A//N: For those who have forgotten, Lorelei was still in town 6 years ago. If it wasn't clear( I'm sure it wasn't.... My mistake...) she's 13. She spent 4 years with Clovis after she had left town (The man who took care of her) and before that, she had spent all her life in town (canto 1).