Mitch
01/01/06, 11:35 PM
So I'm writing a fictional diary of a man living at the start of the bubonic plague. It's for a bullshit class, so it doesn't need to be too good, I was just wondering what you guys thought of it so far:
8 October 1347
I am starting this journal in fear of the now seemingly unknown world around me. Waking up around three days in the past on a bright and sunny day, my wife whom I love with all my heart came to me with a look of worry in her eyes. She complained of a feeling of hurt throughout certain areas on her body, and I pushed her aside and said not to worry; the occurrence of an innocent ache or pain is quite often and of no harm. Fate has proved me wrong in that I should not attempt to predict, as things happen that are least expected…Rising the next day, my wife was still asleep, and as I glanced over at her body I noticed bruises—well not bruises, but more of just darkened blotches—located in various spots in which I can not recall exactly as my memory has been lacking under the stress of the passing days…I woke her quickly, only to hear her moan and speak of the same pain as the day before, and she went back to sleep. At this time panic has finally reached my senses, and I left her alone to go find a doctor of any sort, anyone that knows anything about what may be going on. I finally found a good acquaintance of mine, and he had told me about a trading ship which, when it reached our port, people found the crew to have large, black spots. Oh yes, and they were dead, exactly as is my wife on this tragic day.
11 October 1347
After writing about the death of my wife, I put this diary aside to mourn over a loss of such importance, which may explain the delay of this follow up entry. Over the past two-three days, I have made many discoveries, and as I pray I am wrong, I fear I am not—The world around us is reaching an end. I shall explain more either late today, or in a chilling entry tomorrow.
11 October 1347
As I look out at the setting sun, joy is nowhere to be found as my mind wonders about. There is talk about a plague, sent down by the Gods, to punish all for their sins, and it seems as if my wife is not the only person to have met death so early from the same cause. People have started running around and spreading news that everything is coming to a stop, and that close friends and family have started to die. Since birth it seems, I have gone to church to pray and survive. My wife claimed she had done the same. So does that mean we can not be saved from this so called plague?
21 October 1347
The hell we have all prayed we would not end up in is making its own entrance into our lives. Bodies have been piling up in alleyways, and paranoia and greed has been possessing over the people of this town. People are almost too afraid to leave their homes, and public officials have been burning the corpses of those infected in hopes of destroying the source of which made them die. As this is my diary, I feel obligated to empty out my personal thoughts and beliefs about this illness into this journal. I do not, in fact, believe that it was sent down by a God, because after all these 26 years of my life, God has kept to himself and me to myself. Never having an interaction with this outer force, or whatever I should identify God as, why would he make such an abrupt and deadly interruption?
8 October 1347
I am starting this journal in fear of the now seemingly unknown world around me. Waking up around three days in the past on a bright and sunny day, my wife whom I love with all my heart came to me with a look of worry in her eyes. She complained of a feeling of hurt throughout certain areas on her body, and I pushed her aside and said not to worry; the occurrence of an innocent ache or pain is quite often and of no harm. Fate has proved me wrong in that I should not attempt to predict, as things happen that are least expected…Rising the next day, my wife was still asleep, and as I glanced over at her body I noticed bruises—well not bruises, but more of just darkened blotches—located in various spots in which I can not recall exactly as my memory has been lacking under the stress of the passing days…I woke her quickly, only to hear her moan and speak of the same pain as the day before, and she went back to sleep. At this time panic has finally reached my senses, and I left her alone to go find a doctor of any sort, anyone that knows anything about what may be going on. I finally found a good acquaintance of mine, and he had told me about a trading ship which, when it reached our port, people found the crew to have large, black spots. Oh yes, and they were dead, exactly as is my wife on this tragic day.
11 October 1347
After writing about the death of my wife, I put this diary aside to mourn over a loss of such importance, which may explain the delay of this follow up entry. Over the past two-three days, I have made many discoveries, and as I pray I am wrong, I fear I am not—The world around us is reaching an end. I shall explain more either late today, or in a chilling entry tomorrow.
11 October 1347
As I look out at the setting sun, joy is nowhere to be found as my mind wonders about. There is talk about a plague, sent down by the Gods, to punish all for their sins, and it seems as if my wife is not the only person to have met death so early from the same cause. People have started running around and spreading news that everything is coming to a stop, and that close friends and family have started to die. Since birth it seems, I have gone to church to pray and survive. My wife claimed she had done the same. So does that mean we can not be saved from this so called plague?
21 October 1347
The hell we have all prayed we would not end up in is making its own entrance into our lives. Bodies have been piling up in alleyways, and paranoia and greed has been possessing over the people of this town. People are almost too afraid to leave their homes, and public officials have been burning the corpses of those infected in hopes of destroying the source of which made them die. As this is my diary, I feel obligated to empty out my personal thoughts and beliefs about this illness into this journal. I do not, in fact, believe that it was sent down by a God, because after all these 26 years of my life, God has kept to himself and me to myself. Never having an interaction with this outer force, or whatever I should identify God as, why would he make such an abrupt and deadly interruption?