Excerpt:

As the time became shorter and lunch drew nearer, my stomach began to twist into knots, rather then begin to grow as it normally did. I may have sent a silent prayer that I would somehow get out of having to serve the king at three meals today.

When other people headed down to make the meal, I lagged behind, dreading my task beyond anything I had dreaded ever in my life previously. The dreading was quite odd.

When I finally did head down the the kitchen though, my prayer was answered, though far from the way I expected.

You see, just as I walked into the kitchen, preparing to wash my hands and take the first tray up to the king, a piereching shreek radiated from the gardens. Nearly half the kitchen jumped a large amount, and half of those immediately stopped what they were doing and were in a mad scramble to the door to see what had happened. I was among them. Now though, I wish I had not been. I wish I had been at the back of the frantic, charging group. I wish that I had not been the head of the mass, the one yanking open door after door as we sprinted through the gardens. I wish I had done something differently.

But I did not. I did not do things differently, I did not walk at a restful pace toward the scream while others rushed ahead of me.

Because of what I did, just a simple action, really, I had no warning as to what I would see. I did not suspect at all what would be found half-burried in the ground, muddy from the still torrenting skies.

In fact, I hardly noticed the skys and the horrible weather after that moment when the scream first broke free from the poor woman’s mouth. I wish she had given us something other than just the scream, perhaps a slight warning to go with it. A slight warning would have kept most of the people back, maybe even me.

Only a few, those who knew they could brave the sight, would have come. But I suppose she had the right to simply screem, in her situation. Sher was nothing more than a young woman. Of course she would scream.

After all, even the boldest man would yell out a loud yell of shock at the sight. Nobody can truly blame the woman for what we were not prepared to see as we yanked open the last door that lead to the last garden. After all, if she had not been prepared to see the corpse, should we have had any reason for her to warn us?