In a world abandoned by God, where greed is more ample than the hairs on our heads, there existed an angel in guise. My mother, the golden trophy of her village, was as wonderful of a woman as you could envision. Platinum blonde hair more polished than any jewel, deep blue eyes brighter than any star, and a divine temperament that could make even a devil weep. Mother's existence gave substance to the dried, cracked earth that we laid upon. One could never imagine this pure hearted saint would be seduced by a "ghoul." Heart and soul that of a demon, his presence was enough to cast tears into the hearts brave enough to leer. It casted a shadowy contrast to the sun that was my mother. Little did she know, she was a prisoner to a ghoul, a pheasant strangled to a lion cage.