They came for the small ones, the gherkins, and I said nothing.
Then they came for the larger cucumbers and the zucchini, and I did nothing.
The vegetable marrow and the summer squash went, and still I said nothing.
Then, the melons were gone before I could even think of doing anything.
The thumping thuds on the watermelons haunt me still.
Now they’ve come for my brother and me.
I scream silently as he cries, “They’re cutting into me.”
“They are scoping out my brains.”
I smell the ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon even as they carve a hideous face on my brother.
I smell the roasting of the seeds from my brother’s head even as the knife stabs into me. ~ Jack’s Tale