Concealed | ✓

sun

France, 1349

Dear Diary,

I have had to grown up immensely these past few weeks when the Plague arrived and completely obliterated my life into pieces. A mystery disease it is, coming silently and stealthily like a swift cat. It affects anyone and everyone from the littlest of babies to our aging elders. And it kills ruthlessly, no heart or morals, just a single goal to destroy mankind with its viciousness.

Not only has the Bubonic Plague devoured our bodies, but it also has demolished most of our hope, leaving us hanging onto strands, trying to hold on as best as we can.

When it arrived, quietly without a trace, causing only a few to be ill, we overlooked it, seeing it as a mere inconvenience rather than a fatal sickness. But the Plague is awfully contagious and, one by one, my neighbors, family, and friends have fallen under its deadly spell. No one is protected, no one is safe from the Black Plague. Even so, everyone has burrowed themselves into their homes like animals, bolting the doors shut, closing the raggedy drapes, and confining themselves into faux safety. My mother and father followed this belief, hiding themselves and my brother and I in our humble home, attempting to keep the sickness out and to allow healthiness to remain. Father and Mother endeavored to reassure themselves that we would be protected here. But the Plague is out for blood and a couple nails and a wooden wall will not stop itself from satisfying its cravings.

The Plague is a horrifying enigma, unsolvable and seemingly immortal, slaughtering everyone and everything in its path. Sometimes, I would peer through the window with wide, curious eyes at our ghost town with empty streets, hushed shops, and homes concealing secrets and the shadows of the Plague. Other days, I watch the sun shine above with a hopeful heart, yearning for the day when I can feel its warmth caress my cheek and see its light annihilate the darkness of the sickness once and for all. My optimism is far-fetched and ridiculous but I can't help but place my faith in the sun and everything I know it can do. It is so happy up there, beaming to Earth with the most luminous smile I ever saw, with freedom and no worries. I wish I could join it!

Unlike me, sun is not upset or afraid at all with its rays of radiance glimmering on the world; it is so powerful, so beautiful and brilliant. I am sure that with one glowing kiss it could cure even the most horrible of illnesses.

Oh, Diary, I am very, very frightened. My heart is stuttering with worry, and I can feel the Plague's eyes glaring at me even now as I am writing to you. I am afraid that it is going snatch me soon and smother me in its clutches. Father is already dead; his deceased body lies in a heap just north of town with the rest. So many have passed on so rapidly that there is barely any time to bury their bodies.

I am so petrified that I can barely think straight. Mother received the chills last night and she can barely rise from her bed for a drink of water. Pierre, my baby brother, is warm, too warm, and began to cough blood this morning. The Black Plague is out to get me, I know of it, and I am trapped in this home, endeavoring to hide from it, but I am afraid that it is too late and it found me, and I am hidden from my only savior, the sun. She cannot reach me here, encircled by the looming darkness of the sickness, its tentacles prepared and ready to reach for me and claim me as its victim.

The Black Plague is a conundrum but so is the sun. In the light of day I trust. Darkness will not prevail, blackness will not preserve and take hold. The sun has claimed me as her own, and I hope that she can save me in time. If not, I know I'll see her soon. Oh, how I desire to see the sun's illumination once more, to feel its tenderness again!

It is so cold and lonely here. I am left all alone with my sick brother and mother, the Plague secretly watching me from every corner. Paranoia is constantly seeping into my bones and imprinting itself into my mind. The sun is my only solace, my only friend, my only comfort now. I cling to her when all seems frightening, freezing, and almost hopeless.

I cannot wait for the sun to warm my fingers and toes with its kindness. For its blinding light to penetrate my eyes until all I can picture is its luminosity. For the sun to melt my freezing fears and doubting heart.

Sincerely,
Jacqueline

P.S. I apologize for not writing more. My head is beginning to ache and I hear Pierre wailing downstairs. I hope misery will leave my life soon. Happiness was so long ago that I barely remember it. I'm starting to forget my father's smile and his hugs and it's alarming. I hope this terrible storm will pass soon; the sun has been hiding for far too long here.