She inquired, “What’s the price for the eggs?” The elderly seller responded, “0.25 cents per egg

The old egg seller, his eyes weary and hands trembIing, continued to sell his eggs at a loss. Each day, he watched the sun rise over the same cracked pavement, hoping for a miracle. But the world was indifferent. His small shop, once bustling with life, now echoed emptiness.

The townspeople hurried past him, their footsteps muffled by their own worries. They no longer stopped to chat or inquire about the weather. The old man’s heart sank as he counted the remaining eggs in his baskets. Six left. Just six. The same number that the woman had purchased weeks ago.

He remembered her vividly—the woman with the determined eyes and the crisp dollar bill. She had bargained with him, driving a hard bargain for those six eggs. “$1.25 or I will leave,” she had said, her voice firm. He had agreed, even though it was less than his asking price. Desperation had cIouded his judgment.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The old seller kept his promise, selling those six eggs for $1.25 each time. He watched the seasons change—the leaves turning from green to gold, then falling to the ground like forgotten dreams. His fingers traced the grooves on the wooden crate, worn smooth by years of use.

One bitter morning, he woke to find frost cIinging to the windowpane. The chill seeped through the cracks, settling in his bones. He brewed a weak cup of tea, the steam rising like memories. As he sat on the same wooden crate, he realized that he could no longer afford to keep his small shop open.

The townspeople had moved on, their lives intertwined with busier streets and brighter lights. The old man packed up his remaining eggs, their fragile shells cradled in his weathered hands. He whispered a silent farewell to the empty shop, its walls bearing witness to countless stories—the laughter of children, the haggling of customers, and the quiet moments when he had counted his blessings.

Outside, the world was gray—a canvas waiting for a final stroke. He walked the familiar path, the weight of those six eggs heavier than ever. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement. He reached the edge of town, where the road met the horizon.

And there, under the vast expanse of sky, he made his decision. With tears in his eyes, he gently placed the eggs on the ground. One by one, he cracked them open, releasing their golden yoIks. The wind carried their essence away, a bittersweet offering to the universe.

The old egg seller stood there, his heart as fragile as the shells he had broken. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. And in that quiet moment, he whispered a prayer—for the woman who had bargained with him, for the townspeople who had forgotten, and for himself.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned away from the empty road. His footsteps faded, leaving behind a trail of memories. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, six golden yolks danced—a silent requiem for a forgotten dream.

Father who killed his 10-year-old daughter attacked in prison

The horrific murder of 10-year-old Sara Sharif shocked the world, sparking outrage against her father, Urfan Sharif, who later confessed to the brutal killing of his young daughter.

However, the tragic story did not end with the horrifying abuse that led to Sara’s death. The disturbing details continue, as justice took an unexpected turn behind bars.

Once imprisoned, news of Urfan’s crimes quickly spread among fellow inmates. The convicted child killer soon found himself the target of vigilante justice at the hands of other prisoners.

On August 8, 2023, the world was devastated by the heartbreaking news of Sara Sharif’s death. The young girl had endured a two-year-long “campaign of torture” before her body was discovered at the family home in Woking, Surrey. According to BBC reports, she had been hooded, burned, and beaten.

Upon arriving at the scene, police found Sara’s lifeless body on a bunk bed alongside a handwritten confession from her father, which read: “Whoever sees this note, it’s me, Urfan Sharif, who killed my daughter by beating. I am running away because I am scared.” He further claimed, “I swear to God that my intention was not to kill her. But I lost it.”

Shockingly, the day before Sara’s body was discovered, Urfan, along with two other family members, fled to Pakistan.

Following a weeks-long international manhunt, Urfan Sharif, 42, his brother Faisal Malik, 29, and his wife, Beinash Batool, 30, were arrested and charged in connection with Sara’s tragic death.

‘She Died Because of Me’

During court proceedings, it was revealed that Sara had suffered over 70 injuries, including fractures to her ribs, shoulder blades, and spine, a puncture wound to the head, traumatic brain injury, burns from a domestic iron, and human bite marks.

Initially, all three suspects denied involvement. However, in court, Urfan Sharif changed his stance and admitted, “She died because of me.”

On December 17, 2024, Sharif was sentenced to life in prison with a minimum term of 40 years. Batool received a life sentence with a minimum of 33 years. Malik was sentenced to 16 years for causing or allowing the death of a child. During sentencing, Mr. Justice Cavanagh condemned their actions as “a campaign of torture” marked by “almost inconceivable cruelty.”

Sara’s mother, Olga Domin, described the perpetrators as “sadists” and “executioners” in a statement read in court. Addressing her daughter, she said, “She is now an angel who looks down on us from heaven. She is no longer experiencing violence.”

Prison Justice

Once inside South London’s HMP Belmarsh—dubbed “Britain’s Guantanamo Bay”—Sharif quickly became a marked man. In prison, crimes against children are considered the lowest offense, and Urfan’s reputation made him a target.

According to sources, Sharif attempted to keep a low profile, but his past soon caught up with him. On New Year’s Day, just weeks into his life sentence, he was ambushed by two inmates wielding a makeshift weapon— a jagged tuna can lid.

“Urfan was badly sliced up in his cell,” an insider revealed. “The attack was planned, and he suffered serious wounds to his neck and face. He was lucky to survive, required stitches, and will have permanent scars as a reminder of the attack.”

Prison guards had been trying to protect him, knowing he had a target on his back due to the high-profile nature of his case. “An attack was only a matter of time,” the source added. “Many inmates feel justice was served.”

One of Urfan’s suspected attackers is reportedly Steve Sansom, a convicted murderer serving a life sentence for killing and dismembering 38-year-old Sarah Mayhew in 2024. Sansom was previously convicted in 1999 for the murder of cab driver Terrence Boyle, 59.

What are your thoughts on the attack against Urfan Sharif in prison? Share your opinions and let us know what you think!

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