Looking back, two years on, I can still vividly remember those twelve frightening days. Those memories will stay with me forever. I look much like Papa, with the same violet eyes and tousled hair. We went out to Henwick that day. We found Grandmamma, Robert, and John dead at my old home, and gave them a proper burial, with a memorial for Mama and Elizabeth. The gravediggers also passed away, so we hired men from Theale to bury all the others who died.
There will be long-term effects in Henwick because no-one knows now to bake bread, so we have to travel out to get some. It took twelve days- until there were just seven of us left. The Black Death poached our hearts. My life, although wealthier, does not seem better, even though I love Papa dearly. I am not called a witch any more, which is somewhat a relief. Slowly, we are rebuilding Henwick.
My name is Lady Rose Marshall-Broughton. I have told my story. I survived the Black Death. There is no actual reason why, perhaps I just got lucky. Or maybe I really am a witch…
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Witch of the Plague
Narrativa StoricaEvery day as she walks to work, Rose Marshall is tormented by the village children for being the daughter of a witch. Soon, they will cease their chants, because the year is 1348, and the Black Death is coming to Henwick village, and will claim as...