A Visit to Town
A Visit to Town
Dear Diary,
I'll never forget my first visit to the town. Since my father works the land for Lord Highsmith, we've never needed to go to town. But one day, my father decided to take me. I couldn't believe what I saw. I saw things I might not be able to see even in most hideous nightmares. It was a living nightmare. When I entered the town I could already smell the stench of waste lying in the middle of the road just waiting to decay and rot. Suddenly I looked up and a lady dumps a pail of urine out her window landing right in front of me with a big splash, leaving the bottom half of my body soaked and smelling. Through all of these distractions I hadn't noticed my father. He was just standing there, staring at something, mesmerized. When I finally looked at where he was looking I was frozen. For a moment, it seemed as if the devil himself had caused me to skip a heart beat and cut off my breathing.
Lying ahead of me was something beyond anyone's imagination. There were heaps and heaps of people everywhere lying on the ground either dead or dying. Some were as black as coal lying there, mouths gaped wide open. You could hear other's shrieks and strains of anxiety. Then other's armpits were swelling up to the size of eggs and some swelled so much they exploded in gushes of blood. Then I saw a bunch of men hauling a wagon out of town. As they passed me I saw that the wagon was filled with dead bodies. I couldn't stand it and immediately took my father's hand into mine and quickly sprang out of the town as fast as I could. I never wanted to see that scene again, but it seemed that as soon as I felt that way, it came to haunt me.
Lord Highsmith was very kind and generous compared to many other lords and gave my family a big place to stay in. He'd often come and visit. One day, the servants came bustling into our house holding Lord Highsmith. There, for the next five days I watched Lord Highsmith go through the pain I had seen the people on the streets, in the town, go through. First, the shrieks, bellows, and the swelling of his armpits. Then bazaar movements of his arms and legs. His skin then started to blacken on the fourth day scaring me half to death. Then the fifth day his mouth gaped open, his eyes dropped back, and he died. it was torture for me to see him or any man die such a treacherous death. I, for one, should know by now.
Soon the plague hit my family members one by one, replaying the same living nightmare over and over again. Soon there was only me and my older brother left. The plague seemed to haunt and follow many everywhere they went. For some reason the plague spared my brother and me. I live on, but the memories of the deadly plague clings to my back and never lets me go.
-Roslyn