Edith POV:
It was quiet inside the cottage for the next six days. The only sound that could be heard were Mother's shrill screams of pain that continued throughout the days. Sometime along the way, she started coughing blood and vomiting. She was becoming paler, and her fever was not breaking. Finally, the inevitable came. One cloudy night, she coughed twice, and was silent.
No tears were shed; our eyes had run dry the first day she had gotten the Black Death. In a way, we had already mourned her passing the first of the seven days. Death was a gift for those suffering the sickness, and it would have been cruel to pray to God to allow her to live a bit longer when in the end, Mother would have died anyway, be it from the plague or old age.
James, Elizabeth, and I carried Mother's dead corpse to the old church down in the village. Winnie was to depressed to come, and Father simply didn't want to see Mother's body. As we walked down a mound of dirt, we spotted the church. The delicate church looked strangely out of place with a cloudy sky circling overhead and a dull, rusty fence surrounding its perimeter. The prickly yellow grass beneath our feet was constantly poking and bothering us, but we still walked through.
Nearby, a girl in rags started to weep as she knelt down beside the grave site. The place was filled with mourner's unhappy screams and shouts as soft thumps were heard when corpses were tossed into the pit. Another body was tossed in ,and nearby, a boy started to cry, clutching a woman's corpse and refusing to let go. The scene put an acid-like taste in my mouth, and I turned around to trace the outline of Mother's peaceful face before my siblings and I dumped her in as well.
Then, without a second glance, I ushered my brother and sister away from Mother's body. I could feel tears starting to pool in my eyes, but I blinked them away.
We arrived home with a solemn mood. I told James and Elizabeth to sleep, and they agreed without question, exhausted from the day's events. I have no idea where Father went, but I did find Winnie sleeping on what used to be Mother's cot. Poor thing; she cried herself to sleep. Either way, I myself felt my eyelids drooping, and I drifted off in my dreams as I allowed sleep to claim me.
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The Plague
Historical FictionHey guys, it's @airbarnabus here. After @TheDamBlueCookie had a suggestion about where both of us upload our historical fiction essays that we wrote for English class, this happened! Anyways, I hope you guys like it! Before I forget, here is the sum...