The old town of Gladstone is a dark and dreary place. The townspeople laugh little and cry more into the days ahead. Notably, nothing good happens in this town, as the people feel hopeless and hungry. It's always been like this. That's because it's normal.
Sunday:
Each first day of the week, the town bell chimes, for this day brings sorrow as somebody dies. When the bell rings, one of the townsmen must die because of the heavy price the town pays. The reapers curse is the town's curse, but to them it is not. After the bell rings, the people mourn. The one who dies is the one everyone knows and loves. After the day is done, the dead are buried with their ancestors.
Monday:
On this day, the townsfolk work, and by working, I mean labor, the men are given the task of shoveling rocks for no given reason; really, others get jobs that make you sick with poor working conditions and such. Women get the town to deal with this means dealing in embalming the dead and fixing the food, and yes, without washing their hands. By the evening, the work is done and the town sleeps.
Tuesday:
The day of Tuesday is the day the townspeople work endlessly for twenty-four hours with no breaks. It can't get any worse than this.
Wednesday:
When the morning breaks and the work is done, the townspeople over worked. The people have boils on their skin with pus spilling out of them. The smell is horrid, but there is no such concept of washing thy self. None can lay, for the pain is too unbearable to do, so most eventually pass out from over working or die in the process.
Thursday:
By this day, the town has run out of food; none can eat, as yesterday some were unable to eat because of the pain of the boils. The people, in their own way, rejoice in suffering, crying, and mourning.
Friday:
Today the plague comes, and many are sick and unable to work for the rich. Sickness runs rampant; no one is safe from the sick as the reaper watches and waits.
Saturday:
None can say they survived as the plague comes in and takes all the final price for the city in full as death searches for the next.
The people of Gladstone fulfilled their final days. Lookout, Blissbury, for your next.
The End
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Strange Shorts
Short StoryA collection of strange fictional short stories. Random stories that I wrote just for fun.
