The Plague Was Not The Black Death - This Was

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All I can see is darkness...

darkness...

darkness...

The plague was not the Black Death - this was, and...and...

I'm dying a black death...a black...black...black...death...

Life was colourful.

I must not be alive, because this place has been drowned of its colour.

There is nothing but black...black...black...

I'm dying a black death...death...death...

A body of a boy floats in front of me. He is the only thing lit up.

He looks dead.

I give a laugh that sounds musical and singsong. It tinkles through the water and leaves a trail of magic.

The boy looks dead. With a ghostly pale arm, I reach out and slide my glowing fingers across his cheek.

Cold. Smooth.

Dead.

I smile and laugh again.

Death is funny. Death is hilarious.

I stroke his hair this time. It's pitch black.

Black, but not as black as death.

Then a slow smile creeps onto my face. The boy's shirt has been ripped to shreds and there are gashes of red blood.

How did I not notice that before?

Maybe because death is so dark, so black, so dead.

Suddenly an idea pops into my mind. It would be funny for the people alive to see this boy dead. It would be funny.

I giggle and begin pushing him upwards. We float through the water like we belong here.

Oh yes.

We do belong here. We are in cold, dark, black, death.

Finally we break through the water with a sound like breaking glass. The world is silent.

Everything is frozen in its place. The water doesn't move. Not a ripple. Not a sound.

This is what cold, dark, black death does.

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Question: who's still reading this book?

Second Question: what's the difference between dark and black? Comment!

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