Yet another story idea i dreampt up overnight to add to my never-ending aresnal of writings to write...tell me what u think! Rate & Reveiw plz
I was sound asleep when I heard a loud crash from outside our tiny clay house. “You idiot!” a voice snarled from outside. The hammerings got louder and faster. I ran to Mother’s bedside. “Mother, what’s happening?” I cried. Her body was covered in large swollen boils that oozed a yellowish fluid. “She wheezed and gagged as she tried to sit up in the bed. “Mother, no you have to lie down!” I pleaded, but she pushed me aside and staggered to the front door.
I ran to father’s room to wake him. “Father, something’s happening…” he didn’t stir. His eyes gazed endlessly up at the ceiling, his oozing sores that covered his purplish-black skin vomited the yellowish fluid that also ran from his mouth. I leaned over his body and gently closed his eyelids. “Goodbye, Father.” I kissed him on the forehead and left to help Mother.
“No, she’s not sick! Don’t lock her in here!” Mother cried as she pounded the door with her weak blistering fists. As I got closer I realized that the door was wide open, but a wall was in place of where the fresh winter air was supposed to swarm into the house. “Mom, what’s going on?” I cried. She did not answer me, but ran to the kitchen window and opened the wooden shutter. “Quickly, Ever, out the window!” She wheezed. I didn’t question her orders. In one smooth bound I leaped onto the counter and stuck my head out the dark window, only to meet a brick in the face. I fell back off the counter. Blood gushed from my face just over my eye. “She is only 16! She isn’t infected! Let her live, I’m begging you!”
Stones began pouring in through the window at Mother. I hopped up an swiftly lifted her sickly body and carried her to her room. I could hear the bricks piling on one after the other, slowly encasing us to die a slow and horrid death in our own bile and vomit. Mother wept and moaned. Her discolored yellowish skin bled from the stones and brick that had burst her boils into heaps of blood and puss. “It’s ok Mother, I am proud to die a daughter of Jolan Lasting in this house.” I said as I washed her fleshy skin, black in some spots like over sized bruises. She winced and moaned in pain. “Those God-forsaken people! I curse them and their children to an eternal hell!” She murmured through her teeth. “Calm down, Mother. That isn’t good for your health.” I pleaded. She said nothing. “Leave me alone and see to your own wound.” She moaned through her teeth as she tried to turn over in bed. I left her room and closed the door.
I lay in bed that night, my head pounding from the brick that had hit me leaving an enormous gash from the corner of my left eye slanting just over my eyelid and through the center of my brow. Every tear-filled blink sent a new sensation of pain through my face. Images of my father’s decaying body as I wrapped him in sheets to keep the little bit of air that had been walled in with us from being foul. Images of my mother sweating and panting, wheezing and constantly crying of pain through the night as her body decayed slowly from the inside out flashed through my mind. I tried to shake the images from my mind and think of something else. What would we eat tomorrow? I wondered. I had planned to go to the market in the morning, but those blasted men! How dare they wall us in like this! Fury built in my mind as I wondered whether starvation would kill me before that horrid plague or if the Black Death would reach me first.
I was sound asleep when I heard a loud crash from outside our tiny clay house. “You idiot!” a voice snarled from outside. The hammerings got louder and faster. I ran to Mother’s bedside. “Mother, what’s happening?” I cried. Her body was covered in large swollen boils that oozed a yellowish fluid. “She wheezed and gagged as she tried to sit up in the bed. “Mother, no you have to lie down!” I pleaded, but she pushed me aside and staggered to the front door.
I ran to father’s room to wake him. “Father, something’s happening…” he didn’t stir. His eyes gazed endlessly up at the ceiling, his oozing sores that covered his purplish-black skin vomited the yellowish fluid that also ran from his mouth. I leaned over his body and gently closed his eyelids. “Goodbye, Father.” I kissed him on the forehead and left to help Mother.
“No, she’s not sick! Don’t lock her in here!” Mother cried as she pounded the door with her weak blistering fists. As I got closer I realized that the door was wide open, but a wall was in place of where the fresh winter air was supposed to swarm into the house. “Mom, what’s going on?” I cried. She did not answer me, but ran to the kitchen window and opened the wooden shutter. “Quickly, Ever, out the window!” She wheezed. I didn’t question her orders. In one smooth bound I leaped onto the counter and stuck my head out the dark window, only to meet a brick in the face. I fell back off the counter. Blood gushed from my face just over my eye. “She is only 16! She isn’t infected! Let her live, I’m begging you!”
Stones began pouring in through the window at Mother. I hopped up an swiftly lifted her sickly body and carried her to her room. I could hear the bricks piling on one after the other, slowly encasing us to die a slow and horrid death in our own bile and vomit. Mother wept and moaned. Her discolored yellowish skin bled from the stones and brick that had burst her boils into heaps of blood and puss. “It’s ok Mother, I am proud to die a daughter of Jolan Lasting in this house.” I said as I washed her fleshy skin, black in some spots like over sized bruises. She winced and moaned in pain. “Those God-forsaken people! I curse them and their children to an eternal hell!” She murmured through her teeth. “Calm down, Mother. That isn’t good for your health.” I pleaded. She said nothing. “Leave me alone and see to your own wound.” She moaned through her teeth as she tried to turn over in bed. I left her room and closed the door.
I lay in bed that night, my head pounding from the brick that had hit me leaving an enormous gash from the corner of my left eye slanting just over my eyelid and through the center of my brow. Every tear-filled blink sent a new sensation of pain through my face. Images of my father’s decaying body as I wrapped him in sheets to keep the little bit of air that had been walled in with us from being foul. Images of my mother sweating and panting, wheezing and constantly crying of pain through the night as her body decayed slowly from the inside out flashed through my mind. I tried to shake the images from my mind and think of something else. What would we eat tomorrow? I wondered. I had planned to go to the market in the morning, but those blasted men! How dare they wall us in like this! Fury built in my mind as I wondered whether starvation would kill me before that horrid plague or if the Black Death would reach me first.
