Martyr

Journal Entry #2

In my time as a Scythe, I have yet to come to terms with how hard gleaning is. I still share just as much sorrow for one that I have gleaned as their families do. Most nights I am kept awake by my past gleanings, which still resonate in my mind as the tuning fork of a Tonist cult.

Yesterday's gleaning was the worst I've ever dealt with. I felt an indescribable pain watching the children's eyes follow their father's body to the floor. They gave me a look of pure emotion. It seemed as if all the emotions one would feel on a normal basis were magnified and then conglomerated. The children felt rage that I had just gleaned their parents. They also carried a heavy sadness, yet they had a small sense of relief to know I was in just as much pain as they were.

The children have been delivered to their uncle, but I am unsure that he is a good fit for them. However all that I know is that I am single handedly responsible for their relocation.

––From the gleaning journal of H.S. Sherman