The tall woman sits on an old wooden bench. The wind pulled the plague across the infected, corrupt land. This same wind flowed through her baggy black clothes. The bust of her long dress had been slightly dampened from the wet bench. She stands up off the bench, the cold air made her dress flow, showing her blood-covered black heels. The cloudy sky made the land eerie and dark, the dead grass just barely clinging to the frozen soil. The large black skirt of her dress skimmed along the floor, the white lace lining the base of the skirt dirtying against the mud. Her long cloak fell behind her body clinging to the small silver button holding it over her shoulders. The iconic Plague Doctor Mask sat over her face, the large gold buckle holding the leather straps connected to the mask together. The mask shielded her from the harsh illnesses in the bad air. It had special herbs in the beak that repelled the illness.
CITEȘTI
The Plague Doctor
IstoriceThis is a moral story. The moral is "don't judge a book by its cover". I actually got inspiration to write this while learning about the plague in a history lesson. This short book (idk if i can call it a book or not) showcasing that not all people...
