June 7, 1347
Well... it appears I have acquired a journal. Being a doctor, it is not as if I cannot write, however it is still an odd sensation to be recording my thoughts in a book. I cannot help but think that if someone were to read this after my passing, it would be like they were living my life. I hope the story does not bore them.
On a different note, a ship full of horrifyingly ill men arrived at the harbor today. They said they were here in Catalonia running from some fearful plague. However, they appeared too delirious to give information about the plague or where they came from. These men were truly a horrifying sight; they walked staggered off of their boat, covered in black and red pustules, trailing the scent of death behind them as they walked. Their skin was turning darker in places; it appeared to be turning black. They warned nobody to go in or onto the boat, for it was full of death and corpses. I shudder just thinking about their raspy voices, and how they coughed and sneezed between words. In the profession of a doctor, there are some disgusting sights to be seen, but nothing I have ever seen can compare to the sight of the beings that walked off of that boat. I don't even know if they were human anymore.
These thoughts are making me feel ill. I must go lie down, now. Goodbye until tomorrow, journal.
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Plague Doctor
Historical FictionThe six-part journal of a doctor during the plague known as the Black Death that includes his struggles to save his patients, and his struggles to save himself.
