King Charles II, our great king, has recently announced that the Bubonic plague has infected our town like ashes to fire. Townsfolk are frantic, forbing their children to go outside. Plague doctors roam every corner of the streets, instructing people to take precautions, to cleanse their houses, to do anything they can to prevent illness from spreading. Even with such tragic news, your mother, still ill as ever, unprovoked. She claims that this plague is nothing but a hoax by the king, that it’s nothing new since his exile. Even with such claims, I can hear her sobbing at night, calling your name, asking the gods above if this hoax is what took you away from her arms. Sometimes I stay up restlessly at night questioning what took you away from us. The doctors said that it was nothing but a common cold. That you’d be fine within a few day’s time, as if the sores that littered your neck, red and swollen, dripping pus, were no sign of such illness. I miss you, Iphigenia. Please, treat your mother well when it’s her time
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An entry A Day, Just to See You Once More
Espiritual[[An old highschool English assignment]] A young family of 35, living in an era of the 1600's face a dreadful fate after their daughter of 8 years old, died. Iphigenia, having been ill of a mysterious disease with no cure, passed off as the flu, pas...
