Virtues

by Sir Alexander Wolfgang

Honesty.

This woman had long traded her name for one that fit her line of work. They called her Applejack, as it was what she sold, mostly. Illegally, of course. It’s not like she wanted to. She was pressured into it. At first she only bootlegged for family, and close friends. Then, as time went on, she garnered the attention of a gang. Group of sad fools that called themselves Diamond Dogs. At first she held out, but when they threatened her family she buckled, and didn’t pretend to do anything else. She wouldn’t lie to herself.

There was no going to the cops. They were in anyone’s pocket, given there was enough money in it. Everyone knew that. And even if she did find some kind officer of the law, what could they do? They could try to protect her, but even if they did, they’d be murdered along Applejack and the rest of her kin. Besides that, she couldn’t let someone die for her.

---

Applejack sipped her coffee, just as she did every morning. She looked out of the kitchen window on the far side of the table, eyeing the rising sun, as it rose over a field lined on both sides with treelines of a forest, unchecked. Its beauty a rare sight in a world as cold, and frightening as the one she lived. Its rays shown through the icy winter snow as it fell. Applejack thought about how the queen, a corrupt and vicious women, claimed to control it. Bullshit. She and her sister could claim everything and no one would question them. At least not openly.

She set her coffee down on the table. The only noise was that of nothing, but somehow it was the loudest noise of all that could be heard. Not long from now she’d have to wake Bloom. It was the First Mark, first day of the week. When the girl was at school, that was when Applejack and her brother would go to work. The real work. What actually made them money. She didn’t want to give her sister any ideas of some glorious life of crime. Some lie. There was nothing glorious about what she did, and she knew it. It was just a sad secret to hide from any prying eyes.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Someone knocked on the door in the living room, Applejack stood.

Knock, Knock, Knock. They seemed impatient. Why would someone visit at this hour? It was barely five A.M.

Knock, Knock- She opened the door. On the other side was a black woman in a dark purple, heavy coat, that almost seemed to meld with her hair. Next to her was short man, little more than a kid. He obviously yearned for a place to sleep. His hair was a bright green that stuck out from under his hat in a way that made it seem like some crown of surreal, malformed fire. They were both dressed for a long winter, but shivered anyway, as this winter would strike all with chills.

“Good morning,” The woman spoke up, “Ms. McIntosh?.” She addressed Applejack in manner to which seemed alien to her.

“Uh, yes, yes ma’am.” Applejack hid her quizzical look, but it still showed itself.

“I’m detective Spark,” no, why the police? “And this is my partner, Spike.” The boy gave a curt wave at his mention.

Applejack nodded. “Uhm-”

“I won’t tell you how I know, but I know how you’ve come to profit.”

Damn it. “The cider?” Applejack looked defeated, simply put.

“Yes, but I’m not interested in that. You may be in danger, I can’t in good conscience let you be put into harms way, if there’s something I can do to help prevent that.” Applejack perked up, again.

“Well, thank you, officer. But what am I in danger of?” She was not truly ignorant of it, but she had to know for sure.

“We have reason to believe your business associates are warring with another gang. A particularly violent one.”

Applejack nodded. She knew what the detective meant. “Now, who might that be?”

“I can not disclose that information, ma’am.”

“I see. Now what’re ya’ll plannin’ on doin’ about it?”

“Miss, when they hit, they’re going to hit hard. Please, you must leave. Go somewhere safe.” Until now Spark sounded cold, and mechanic. It was at this point that she developed some sort of warmth, like this was beyond her job. Something personal.

“Ms. Spark, I can’t just do that.”

“You have to do something.”

“I can’t.”

“Ms. McIntosh, if not for you, than for your family, please. You have to do something.”

“They’ll be fine, don’t you go worryin’ about them.”

“Miss, Spike or I can stay with you, if you really can’t leave.”

“Thank ya’ for the offer, but I couldn’t live with myself if one’a ya’ll got hurt. Now please, I gotta get a sleepy youngin’ up, and ready for school.”

“Fine, but at the very least, take my number,” The detective produced a small card. Applejack took it.

“Thank you kindly, miss. I’ll be alright though, I promise.”

“I certainly hope so.” With that, she and her partner left.

Applejack shut the door, crumpled the card up, and tossed it into a plastic waste bin.

---

The road was slick with ice, and snow. Applejack’s rusty old truck struggled to keep traction on the road, so she kept things slow. The closest school was an hours drive away during summer, and it was winter. It was early, but that didn’t keep Bloom from rambling. Applejack listened intently, despite it being worthless nonsense. This is her sister, this is her girl, and she will deprive her of no luxury she can afford.

“Most’a my classes are with my homeroom teacher, Ms. Cheerilee, an’ she’s real nice an’ all, but most’a the class don’t like her none. I don’t know why, though. She ain’t strict at all.”

“Maybe she likes you, but she don’t the rest.” Applejack suggested.

“No, my friend Scarlett hates her guts, but Ms. Cheerilee ain’t never mean to her.”

“Some folk just need something to hate, Bloom.”

It was the kind of dribble that you could only stand if it were coming from someone you loved. That rambling you could listen to for hours, and hours, occasionally sliding bits of advice, and general input between their sentences. If it were anyone else the sound of Bloom rambling would be like a loud, ear piercing static. But when it was someone who you would die for, that noise was a finer than the most brilliantly composed work of music. It was comforting, truly. It would be almost frightening if Bloom ever did stop talking. Applejack hope that that would never happen, but she knew it would.

Applejack saw Bloom into the school. She quickly disappeared among the crowds of other children, Applejack knew Bloom was special, only to her, and her family. She had to be honest with herself. People were only as important as their friends and family perceive them to be, take that away and you have a true human. Nothing separating them from any other whelp unfortunate enough to breath. The other children meant nothing to her, honestly. But among them was little girl, no more than nine with bow on her head, that she would die for.

Dropping Bloom off was at the start of most days, and this was most days. Applejack drove back home, humming to any song she would say she liked. The sky was bleak, and grey, and made Applejack feel so small compared to it. She found little comfort in knowing that beyond it was a sun, bright and promising. Then she felt no comfort once she remembered Celestia’s claims to it. But then she thought that, perhaps it was rather pointless to connect the two. Seeing as no one honestly believed those claims. At least no one she knew.

For the next few hours it would be nothing but distilling, and fermenting drinks. Exclusively, those that were apple based. Hence her nickname.

---

The sun was high, and work at the farm was at a peak as well. Applejack and her brother did as much as they could in the time provided. Which was mostly picking apples from their vast orchards. A quick inspection of them, and then they were off to the barn cellar, into a still, or be brewed. They worked hard almost everyday, until the young one was to come home. Whatever apples left over were to be sold in a more legal manner.

Above ground came the sound of tires rolling across gravel, the sound of car, certainly. Applejack heard that, and she would not leave it unchecked. She climbed the ladder, emerging from the cellar.

“Where you off to?” Her brother called.

“Chechin’ a noise.” She said, hardly paying attention. She let the door fall back, and conceal their crime. She hugged her coat tight, the snow still falling. From her position she could see through a barn window, and through it was a dark green coupe. Its two doors opened, and out from it two men came. One looked short, and frail, compared to the other one. A true hulk of a man. He was at least 6’6. They walked up the farm house, noone was home. No one was there during the day.

What ever could it be they want? Applejack opened the barn door, then walked to them, her boots making heavy crunch’s in the snow. Surely they would hear her coming. She heard them knocking on the door, but she could not see them, as the house so positioned. She was within ten feet of the corner when the smaller of the two men peeked around the corner.

“Aye, bub, I think this is who we’re lookin’ for.” He announced, as if they had been searching for an object.
.

“Well, who’re you lookin’ for?” Applejack asked.

“Don’t know her name, they call her Applejack.” The words were quick, and curt, but seemed almost polite. Almost.

“I reckon that might be me.”

“Alright then, Applejack, who are you workin’ with?” The larger of the two stepped into the snow as well, casting a shadow over his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“Who are you making the booze for?”

“Wh-what booze?” She played dumb, pathetically. She couldn’t lie, and she was stupid for thinking she could.

“You know what booze, the the booze you’re sellin’, now who’re you selling to?”

She conceded in her effort to deny, but had to ask: ”Why’do you boys need to know?”

The short man sighed, “We’re not the cops, alright? Ain’t nothing to worry about.”

“Fine,” what did it matter, anyway? “I’m sellin’ to some small time fools callin’ themselves Diamond Dogs.”

“Thank you. Now it would benefit you to know they’re going out of business soon, and you gonna need someone else to sell to, right?”

Applejack gritted her teeth. “If they’re goin’ out’a business, I guess so.”

“Well, you’re workin’ for Dragons, now, girl.” He smiled. “What do ya’ say?”

“Fuck off,” she crossed her arms.

The small mans smile faded. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do, fuck off.” She buckled once, she wasn’t doing it again.

“Be honest with yourself, they-”

“I am bein’ honest, now get the fuck off out of here!” She looked ready to kill.

“I’ll be back. You’ll come around.” And with that, he turned and left with the other. The huge man never having said a word.

Applejack shook her head, and turned back towards the barn. The nerve of that fool.

---

The rest of the day was as normal. Cider, and applejack was made, bottled, and put into crates for the ease of delivery. The left over apples were, too, but kept separate from the alcohol, of course. Now, all that remained for the day was to pick up Bloom.

Applejack rolled into view of the school, alongside other’s come to collect their children. And there, at the curb, she spotted dear Bloom. Alone, and looking sad. Applejack slowed the truck to a stop next to Bloom, and opened the passenger side door for her. Bloom got in, putting her backpack between her and her sister. And off they went.

Applejack spoke. “Why’re you so quiet, sugar?” The school was still in view, quickly fading from sight.

There was no vocal response, but instead Bloom pulled from her pocket a crumpled, and beaten slip of paper. She handed it to her sister.

Applejack flattened it against the steering wheel, This couldn't be good. The paper was a note from Blooms teacher, one requiring a signature from this child’s guardian. Applejack scanned the paper for its jist, the main point of it. According to this paper Bloom had assaulted another student, one who had apparently been bullying her, and her friends. That wasn’t the bad part, if that was true, the kid had it coming. The bad part was that she had lied about it. She denied that she had bloodied the others nose. Applejack had concluded with a sigh, crumbled the paper again, then tossed it back at Bloom.

“A-Applejack, I-”

“We’ll talk when we get home.” Her eyes stayed on the road ahead.

“I-”

“I said, we’ll talk when we get home.” She was gruff, and cold, when she spoke this time.

The rest of the ride home was agonizing for Bloom. For a nine year old there was nothing worse than having to wait for a punishment. The silence was painful, and the drive never ending. The trees that bordered the road went by slower than they should have, and her Blooms life seemed over, despite logic.

Bloom looked at Applejack while she drove them home. The woman’s gaze was set on the road, and payed no attention to Bloom, whatsoever. Bloom decided to simply relish the time until they arrived home. That seemed to be the only thing she could do anyway.

She looked down into her lap, the crumpled piece of paper. She pulled it taught, smoothing it as best she could that way, resting her eyes on it, searching the neat, organized words. The small boxes with check marks showing her misdeeds seemed to be a single monstrosity. Some unseen force carried her vision lower, past the short paragraph description of the event that transpired, tying it to the signature on the bottom right hand side. Ms. Cheerilee. She looked at the womans name, signed in pretty curves, curves that seemed almost happy. Bloom suddenly understood why so many children hated Ms. Cheerilee. But she could still not join them.

---

“A-Applejack, I’m-”

“It ain’t that you hit the girl, it’s that you lied about it, Bloom!” Applejacks voice almost boomed.

Bloom sat on her bed, tears subtly slid down her face.

“I-I know.” The girl brushed a tear away.”

“Then why’d ya’ do it?” Applejack was unrelenting.

“B-Because I didn’t want t-” she wiped away another tear, “to get in trouble.”

“Well, that worked real good for ya’, didn’t it?”

Bloom stared at the floorboards, giving no response.

“Didn’t it?” Applejack raised her voice, demanding an answer.

“No.” Bloom muttered to, almost to herself.

“What!?” Applejack was being genuine, she couldn't hear the sad little girl.

“No!” Bloom said as loud as she could without yelling, then went back to staring at the floor.

Applejack put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Bloom, I-”

“Janey!” A deep baritone voice bellowed, their brother.

Applejack huffed, then opened Bloom’s door and leaned out, “What!?” she hollered back.

“Some fellas down here askin’ ta’ see ya!”

She huffed again, wiped her mouth, then turned to Bloom, pointing a prejudicial finger. “You ain’t off the hook, yet.” Then she stormed off downstairs, annoyed.

Bloom sat with tears making her their own. She was a sad, trembling mess.

Applejack’s heavy boots met the staircase with a heavy thud for each step. She turned at the bottom to see Her brother at the door. The visitors not yet seen. He saw her, then stepped away as she approached. She stood at the doorway, one hand on the opened door, just as her brother had. And she was not happy.

“Reconsidered yet?” It was the smug little man who stopped by earlier that day.

“I thought I told you to leave?” She looked at him with the fury of lost titans.

“Yeah, yeah, you did. But I said I’d be back, and now, here I am.”

“Okay then, leave, and don’t come back.” She tried to shut the door, but the little mans foot kept it open.

“Listen, lady, I’m saving you a lot of fucking grief by doing this. Either you work with us willingly, or we can force you to.”

Applejack let the door open again.

“That’s better, no-”

Applejacks fist slammed into his nose, knocking him onto the porch. The door slammed shut just as he hit the boards.

The man stumbled to his feet, being aided by his friend. “That fucking cunt,” he said, not forcing it out at all.

“We gonna fuck her up?” The behemoth next to him asked.

The short man looked at the door, then to his friend, “No, we ain’t doing nothing.” He wiped the blood from under his nose. “Not to her,at least.”

Applejack went back the way she came, to Blooms room. She tried to calm her nerves. Her rage was built up on that fool, and she didn’t want to throw any undue anger Blooms way. She loved Bloom. Yelling at her was enough.

The bedroom door creaked open, Bloom was lying in her bed, just so. She wasn’t asleep. She rose as the door let out its groan. Her eyes were red, tears having subsided. Applejack sat next to her, she did nothing.

“A-Applejack, I’m sorry.” She broke the silence, and looked at her sister in the eyes.

“I want to believe you, but when you lie I can’t trust you.” Applejack hugged her sister.

“I-I am, I really am.”

“I don’t doubt it, Bloom, but if you keep on lyin’ then I how am suppose to believe you?”

“S-sorry, I-.”

“Hush, now, I know you’re sorry, baby.” They stopped their hug, “now, where’s that piece’a paper?”

Bloom pulled her backpack onto the bed, and pulled from it that tattered piece of paper. From it she also pulled a pencil. She gave both of them to Applejack. The woman took both of them, stood, and walked to the wall next to the door. She smoothed the paper, and held it against the green, painted, wall. She signed her name, sloppy in comparison to the other name signed on the paper. She gave both of them back to Bloom. Bloom put both of them back into her pack, as if this was some daily ritual for the two.

Applejack gave one final hug, then said with the warmth of a mother: “I’m sorry I was so rough with you earlier, Bloom, I-I just,” she couldn’t find the right words, at first. “Don’t lie, Bloom.” She let go, but still looked Bloom in the eye. “Don’t ever lie, Bloom.”

Applejack ruffled Bloom’s hair, and stood, “Now, I’m gonna go fix us some supper.”

The woman stood, and she left. The girl was still sitting on her bed, genuinely regretting her misdeed. No one put her in this mood but Applejack.

---

The rest of the week went by as normal. On the last day of the week, The Seventh Mark, the booze was sold, and Applejack had just enough money to scrape by again. Bloom stayed out of trouble, staying quiet in school. The snow finally stopped falling, and within three days had mostly melted away, letting the color pallette darken from a blind and pure white, to a dreary grey that seemed to be the setting of an old world tale of endless death and decay. The fools who tried to force Applejack to cross sides never came back to speak to her. Perhaps she had put them in their place. Probably not.

Mac was delivering the booze in an old delivery truck the kept in the barn. Applejack was on her way to pick up Bloom from school. No one else was on the road, it was only her and a rusted old shell of a truck. It rumbled, and creaked along the way. It was a peaceful loneliness. A loneliness that was like being somewhere else entirely, somewhere made for peace. A place you could be, and never wish for harm on anyone, no matter their trespasses.

The school came into view now, along with other’s come for these young ones. But no Bloom. Applejack pulled up to the curb, and stepped out. She looked for her sister, but she didn’t not find her. She waited, leaning against the truck. The sun started lowering itself, cars pulled away, and again Applejack was alone. But this time there was no zen, just frantic pacing, before the woman got back into her truck and blazed home.

Her time felt limited, like something was etching away at it. She didn’t know what the speed limit was, and she didn’t care. She was going to be home twice as fast as she normally would. This loneliness was not peaceful, it was terrifying. Her sister, the closest thing to a daughter she would ever have, was missing, and she had no idea where she was.

She pulled into the driveway, got out, and stomped up the front steps of the house. Then froze, as if there was a sudden drop in temperature. On the door was a note pinned to it with a bloodied switchblade. On the note was a blood red palm print, the same size as Blooms hand. Under it was a location, an address. Applejack tore the page from the door, the knife fell, she ignored it.

It read: Rite Mist Liquor. Midnight.

Rite Mist Liquor was a run down store that sold what its name suggests. It went under at the same time as every other store like it did, when alcohol was banned. And they wanted to meet there.

She crumpled the paper into a ball, and squeezed it tightly in her fist, grimacing with rage. She dropped it and stepped into her house, almost not sure what to do. Almost.

She dug through the old waste bin, and at the very bottom, behind all the other useless trash was the only thing useful. A card with a number on it. She took it,and shoved it into her denim jacket.

She looked at her watch. It was Six P.M, and Mac would be home tomorrow, at the earliest. It was all on her.

---

It was almost midnight, now, and if the weather didn’t change it would be snowing any minute now. Applejack was in the rusty old junker, and practically freezing her ass off. She looked at her watch to confirm the time, and checked the gun in her boot. It was hardly a gun; an old snub-nosed. She put it back, and stepped out of the truck.

The meeting place was just across the way, and she walked through the bitter cold in the bitter darkness. The door was boarded shut, so she stepped through the broken window, and stepped out of sight. The air was icy, and full of tension. She walked through the store, shelves toppled on one another. Glass cracked beneath her feet, every step more timid than the last.

She heard steps that were not her own. She tried to turn around, but something cracked against her skull one time. She fell down, and scrambled for her gun, but next thing she knew, she was being kicked in the head. Darkness changed to utter darkness.

---

There was a bag over her head, and ice in her vains. She didn’t know where she was, just that she was outside, and judging by the crunch of the ground, and freezing air, it had been snowing for a good long while.

There was an iron fist on each of her shoulders guiding her, sure that she wouldn’t stray Something bound her hands. She would guess duct tape. Aside from her own the only set of feet she heard was that of the man holding her. She could still feel her gun in her boot, it being one of the many discomforts at the moment. Yet at the same time it was the only comfort.

They stop and the only thing Applejack can think of is Bloom. They must have taken her to the little girl, and if they hadn’t, well, they sure went to great lengths to kill people.

The man kicks the back of Applejack’s knee, and she falls onto them, her spine becoming colder than the frozen wastelands to the north. She felt his massive hand grab the top of the bag on her head. Her fear told her he was about pull her head back and drive a knife into her throat. But truth let itself be known once he yanked it off of her head.

She blinked as if shown flashes of several suns. Looking up she saw her captor, the hulking man from last week, the bastard. He was wearing her hat. He stepped out her vision and she could see it was almost morning now. She was in a clearing of a grand forest, snow falling reluctantly as if it knew bad things were to come. Beyond it, and through the falling crystals of ice she saw three silhouettes, huddled and shivering. They did not belong.

A fourth silhouette joined them, and they seemed wary of them, as if they smelled the malice of this one. Next thing they were standing, and coming in the direction that would take them to Applejack. Applejack knew not why there were three, she only came for her sister. But she did know better than to speak, just now.

As they trekked closer, they passed through the invisible wall that made them silhouettes. They were three young girls, one of them being Bloom. They were terrified, and shivering. The one on the right had streaks of mascara running down her young and innocent face, her hair not perfect as it normally is. On the left there was a girl with purple hair. She seemed pitiful, as if she accepted her fate.

Then there was Bloom. She balled her eyes out, being the only sound in a forest of unknown size. Applejack saw her, and it was clear that this little girl wanted nothing more than to rush to her sister, and be free. But the man behind her held a gun that would take her head off if she even dared.

“So, Jackie, guess you’re gonna be working for us, now, huh?” The man said.

Applejack gritted her teeth.

It was the short little bastard. Too pathetic to actually face Applejack himself. “Here’s how this is gonna work, you dig? We’re going to keep these brats until the first deal you do with th Dragons, right? Yeah.” He seemed ecstatic. It was disgusting.

Applejack stood up.She had to do something. For Bloom. But did she really care about these two? She didn’t even know them. She only came for Bloom, but for each these little girls there was somebody that cared for them. If it was one of those others here, would they try to save Bloom? “You fuck. Alright, I will.”

“Excellent. Your batch’a booze is goin’ to-”

From the forest there was pop, and the massive man next to Applejack fell into the snow. The vulgar little man looked around for it, then pointed his gun at Applejack. “You cunt! You did this, didn’t you!”

Bloom and the girl on the right were balling. “Wha- no! I-I did-”

He fired his gun at her, and she doubled over in pain, falling back onto her knees. Next he put his gun in the direction of one of the little girls, and a let another bullet rip, and it ripped right through the purple headed girls skull. As the bullet exited a mess of vile gore chased after, as she slumped to the ground not even afforded a whimper.

Next was Bloom, he was ready fire but there was another pop, and his exploded in a mess of bone, blood, and flesh. Now he kneeled, clutching his wound as blood spurt out. He teared up, and he cried like the girls next to him.

Applejack saw this, and she was filled with more hate than she had ever garnered. The binds on her wrists ripped as if they were paper. She pulled the gun from her boot, and stood as best she could, holding her stomach with her left hand. Trying not to bleed out.

She fired a single bullet, blood splattered from the mans shoulder. He let out a restrained shriek of pain. Applejack rushed to him as fast as she could and delivered a swift kick to his mouth. He fell back, and she fell on him. She raised the snub-nose high, then brought it down on his head, face, whatever she could break with it.

He tried to fight back, but she would only strike harder, and harder when he did. His face looked less like himself with each landed blow. When his head was more like a wet bag of gravel, she stopped. Then collapsed on her side.

Blood covered her lower body. Her stomach, crotch, and thighs. She could hardly move. Not even if she wanted to. She felt like she was going to puke out the blood that was still inside her. Bloom crawled over to her. She tried to hug her, tried to do something, but her hands were still bound and she could not.

“I-I-I-I’m sorry.” She cried.

“Ain’t nothin’ t-ta be sorry for.” Applejack barely got it out.

“I-I love you.” Her tears were a river. To Applejack these words were distorted. Deeper than they should. Her vision began to fade into white.

“I know.” She hugged the little girl. She looked into the sky and saw the sun peek over the trees. And that was it.

“Honest, sissy, I-I do.”

No response.

”J-Janey?”

Bloom looked into her sister’s eyes, and she saw that her sister was now beyond her. She was dead.

“N-No!” She balled, and balled. Her tears never ending.

From the forest came someone, a woman with pampered flesh, and purple hair that graced the height of fashion. She held a rifle, a scope and a silencer attached to it. She came onto the scene, and she was almost stunned. A small redheaded child cried over a corpse of some bloodied young woman. Next to them was the beaten corpse of a small man, and child. For a most brief of moments the woman wished this was the worst she had ever seen.

The live woman’s sister, the one she had come for, looked up at her, eyes telling her “Please, take me away.”

The woman broke the little ones binds, and hugged her. “Shani, are you alright? Those brutes didn’t hurt you, did they?”

The closest thing to a response that the woman got was whimper that could be mistaken as “I’m okay.” The little girl buried her face into her sister’s shoulder.

They stood, and just as they were to leave, Shani held her sister back. When the woman turned around she saw the other little girl weeping, Shani pointed at her.”What?” She asked.

“B-Bloom.”

“We can’t do anything for her, Shani.”

“Y-yes, we can.”

The woman thought for a second. Then she realized how much of a hypocrite she was being. How dare she call herself generous.

From a pocket she produced a small flip phone,a disposable one she used for her line of work. She stepped over to the weeping little girl, and put a hand on her shoulder. The girl looked up at the woman. “Come with me.” The woman said.

Bloom looked down at her sister, then to her dead friend, finally back at the woman, the sister of her only living friend. She nodded, and stood. The woman broke her binds.

But before they set off, Bloom walked to the dead behemoth. His hat was not his own. It was her sister’s. She plucked it from his head, then placed it on her sisters chest that would never move again.

And then they were off. Girls weeping, woman feeling their pain.

Author's Note:

LOL, right? Please tell me what you thought, I love to improve.

Comments

[Twi-Guy]

At first I was confused until I realized it was a human version, probably during prohibition. Then things started to make sense for me.

So far so good now that I get it, but there were a lot of grammar errors. Most of them I could read around but if you are serious about the story I would advise finding an editor.