- Aalis
- The Library
- The Uniform
- The Vicomte
- Pestilence
Journal
Pestilence and Fortune
Psalm 91:6
Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.
Memory 5: Pestilence
The Plague was so present, so malicious, it felt like divine retribution. The theologians pondered God's wrath: we lived in. I did not expect His wrath to take the form of a man, or something close to. He approached me, one day, while I tended to my patient. I was oblivious, mesmerized by my patient's flesh that rotted while it still lived. Pestilence moved so quietly, I could feel his impossibly cold breath before hearing him at all. I jumped and yelped, and he heard my feminine voice, but did not seem surprised. He spoke with a tenor that ached in my joints and clouded my mind. He told me that he had secrets of healing beyond anything in my father’s library. I should have noticed that he didn’t smell of lavender, only death, but I was transfixed. He told me he could give me the power to save Cateline, that we could live together forever. At the time, I thought it a metaphor. Now, I’m not so sure. The last thing I remember is the lesions taking hold, black fissures from burst capillaries, and the boils on my skin bubbling to the surface and rupturing. Then I woke in the library.
+ 1 Mark: Black Lesions