CAROLINE - the black death

Coroline part - 1

My name is Carloine, I don't really understand what is going on and why people are acting the way they are, but I do know three things for sure.

One, I am ten years old.

Two, my parents are dead.

Three, I will join them soon.

The year is 1348 and my village and all those who occupy it are now either consumed or owned by the devil.

He plagues this village, leaching peoples souls slowly, painfully and unmercifully.

It all began with the death of a simple travelling merchant. He was found in his tavern room slumped on the ground, his face frozen in a mixture of tortured pain and horror. Rats already feasting on him.

Grotesque lumps covered his body, still leaking a thick yellow pus. Blood speckled his clothing and caked his swollen tongue.

Everyone just assumed that the man had been sinful in his life and God had punished him accordantly. We buried him that day and contuined on with our lives. The merchants death already behind us.

But then more people began to die.

1, 2, 10, 50, 70, 100, 200, the number of deaths rose dramatically, it affected everywhere and everyone with unmatched speed.

June the backer;

Bruce the butcher;

Rosemary the servant;

Lady Rose of the manor;

Margaret the beggar; the list grew.

They all suffered from the same ghastly symptoms before death.

First it was only itchy, irritated skin, but then black boil like lumps appeared, starting under the arms and in the genital areas before spreading around to the rest of the body, and if broken, leaked a foul yellow puss.

Often toes or fingers went entirely black and rotted from the body. People that got sick lasted one sunset, two or even three if lucky.

Barely anyone ever survived longer than that....

The doctors began to wear heavy black robes and giant scary masks that shares likeliness to an oversized ravens head.

The beak is filled with strong herbs and spices as they believe the sent will deter the stench of evil.

Although the masks creep me out so I try to stay as far away from them as possible. I even ran across the street once, cutting myself on glass shards that had been crunched into the ground, just to avoid passing one of them.

The doctors have tried many things to cure the devils curse.

Some say to carry around flowers or packets of herbs, others claim that bloodletting works best.

Bloodletting involves cutting yourself and allowing blood to freely drain until you cannot stand or become dizzy.

The rich have tried crushing precious stones into dust and consuming the powder, whilst the poor have tried washing themselves in urine, smearing their own faeces over themselves, rubbing cuts with live chickens.

They have now, out of desperation resorted to killing Jews.

Already so much death in my village and they choose to bring more, I don't understand.

Why is God doing this to us?

What did I do so wrong?

Jamie, he was a Jewish boy, a friend of mine. I watched, useless and powerless as he and his struggling, screaming mother were forcefully dragged to the centre of town and burned alive in a pit.

He had just learnt to walk, I still remember his giggles as he tripped over his own feet, and his mothers laugh as she pulled him back up.

She'd had such a beautiful voice, she sang for me once when I tripped and cut my knee. Her voice richer than chocolate, warmer than the sun.

I watched as those same chubby legs burned and blackened, and his mothers beautiful voice become raw screams of agony that still echo in my ears.

Why?

Why would people do such a thing?

I don't understand anything anymore...