Pestilence was believed to be conquered, no disease could face the imperial might of man. We fooled ourselves in becoming weak, we thought us strong, and through our pride we left us open to the 3rd horsemen. Though most will panic, their minds will refute the truth. But I know the calling of the true doctor, to cure the sickness at its roots, the spirit. I tug on my gloves, true, pure, treated leather. My outfit was long discarded, the fear it inspired thought to be a drawback of our profession. But I know, like all true doctors, that the raven mantle we dawn is a necessary fear to inspire and harden the spirit. This knowledge has been passed down through my line for years, generations; almost as important, our equipment. The long leather trench coat to shield us from the infection, its buttons made from sterling silver and an elk's antlers. Life brims within and around me, a protective layer to stifle the sickness before it's demons can corrupt my soul. I pull my hat on tight. It's snug style clinging close to my scalp. The top hat is a classical fashion choice, beyond that it is to keep a good humor, with them out of balance, my armor would have been for nought.
YOU ARE READING
Humors Doctor
Science FictionThe story of a doctor who knows the true calling, the only way to cure the disease plaguing mankind. The story of the raven, and the carrion that resists it.
