A Black death story by Selena Bonner (dark books to read .txt) 📕

headed to Rachel’s room.
“We are alone now Rachel, it is just me and you now,” I told her. Tears filled her weak eyes.
“Do not cry now, Rachel, mother would want you to be strong for her.” I reassured her. She nodded. I told her to rest and get some sleep and I will do the same.
The next morning I found her dead.
I am so lonely right now and for the first time in months, I cried. Tears filled my eyes and poured down my cheeks, then the cycle would begin again. I thought of father and Elizabeth and Abe and mother and Rachel. I cried about Abe leaving when I needed him the most. I cried about how I am stuck in this house that is filled with the dead and the horrible smell. I cried about how lifeless my home was, but only a few months ago, it was filled with beauty and the smell of yeast and always there was something new to eat that mother baked. I cried about the rat that bit mother and how hungry mother was and how I saw those bubbles on father’s skin for the first time. I thought about when I would be in the yard reading and eating an apple while Abe was running around gleefully. I imagined Elizabeth and Rachel putting on mother’s makeup and when father made dinner for the first time. I cried in my bed until the early morning. I cried until I fell asleep.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right


Dear Diary, June 29th, 1665
The guards have left. They have been gone this week so far. I now have a choice to flee London, or stay here and wait for the illness to catch up to me. I decided to leave London. I packed what ever food was left in my haversack. I found a half of loaf of bread, two tomatoes and an apple. I scrounged up all the money I could find and I packed two of my dresses and one of my coats for a blanket. I packed my diary, my quill and my inkwell. I slowly placed it in a smaller compartment and slung the haversack onto my shoulder. I opened the door, and peered outside. The red paint that the Reverend painted on our door was gone. I walked down the street and into the city. I passed boutiques and tall buildings and spotted the bakery. I saw no one in the streets, except the occasional rat scurry by with a piece of bread in their mouth. I tried to open the front door to the bakery. It was locked. I noticed a small alley in between the bakery and the building next door. I curiously slipped through the alley and saw the back of the shop. It was rugged and had a fence on the far side. I noticed a back door I could go through, but I saw my brother. Abe was slumped on the ground next to the back door. He twitched in his sleep and mumbled something. I ran toward him, the haversack thudding on my side.
“Abe! Abe!” I cried happily. I knelt down and shook his shoulder. He looked up at me sleepily. He was covered in dirt and his clothes smelled and his hair was greasy.
“Amelia?” he looked at me through squinted eyes. He held himself up with one hand, while another was holding his stomach.
“Yes, it’s me, Abe!” I grinned, “are you feeling well? Why did you run off ? Are you hungry?” I questioned.
“Is Rachel fine?” he asked curiously. I looked at him for a moment, seeing his dazed expression.
“No,” I replied, “Rachel is dead. Mother is dead too. I was the only one left.” I spoke soberly. He looked down at the ground quietly.
“I am fine,” he answered after awhile, “I ran off only to think it would help you and mama and Rachel. I only thought that if I left it would be one less mouth to feed.” he told me.
“I am not hungry, the back door is open if you want to grab something,” he offered. I thought a moment.
“Is not that stealing, Abe?” I pointed out. He sighed tiredly.
“No one is inside to see the robber whom stole it,” he spoke weakly. I stood up and looked at the door. I opened it slowly and cautiously. A chill went down my spine. The day light filled the empty kitchen as I walked inside. I looked around, seeing a big black stove, a refrigerator and old, dusty countertops. I saw a half eaten fruit cake and a loaf of bread near it. I examined the bread, then put it in a nearby bag and stuffed it into my bag. I ran outside to see Abe falling asleep again. I knelt down and shook his shoulder once more.
“Abe! Get up! You are coming with me,” I yelled. I took his cold hand and pulled him up.
“Where are we going?” he wondered. We squeezed past the alley and onto the street.
“Anywhere but here,” I replied. We walked down the windy streets. Toward sundown, we tried to find a place to stay. The best place we found was an old, run-down building. It had a good structure and no one lived in it. We entered the house, and got comfortable on the floor.
Right now Abe is fast asleep while I am writing this. It has been such a long day, I cannot imagine what tomorrow will bring.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right


Dear Diary, July 1st, 1665
Yesterday we stopped at Oxford, but today we are in Woncester. I split a tomato with Abe as we sat in the street. It was busier compared to London. Men passed buy in formal wear, women pass by with children in their arms and at their heels. Some children looked so sad, but others skipped gleefully in front of their mothers. We finished our pieces of tomato hungrily.
“Come Abe, we must keep going,” I helped him up and slung the haversack onto my shoulder. We marched off into the streets, occasionally asking directions to Nottingham. Abe lags behind, sometimes dropping to the hard ground completely. I pull him up harshly.
“Amelia, I am so weak, just let me rest for just a moment,” he pled. I shook him hard.
“No Abe,” I said sternly, “you are the only one left, we must keep going. I have heard Nottingham has an operating hospital. We might be able to enter, but we must keep going, it is a long journey.” I informed him. He sighed tiredly and walked beside me.
“Where are we heading beside Nottingham?” he asked.
“We are going to France, I have planned, it is safe and peaceful there.” I reassured him with a small smile on my face. Smiling was so weird, so old. It felt as if my smile was gone for a long time, but woke up once in awhile to poke up from the grass like a worm. He looked at me worriedly, but returned his gaze to the ground.
We found a spot in the woods nearby tonight. I moved aside some sticks and piled up leaves for Abe and I. I wish my smile would return more often.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right


Dear Diary, July 4th, 1665
We reached Nottingham yesterday. Abe has gotten weaker, and I am afraid he might have the black death. I am not sure, but I try not to think much of it. We entered the hospital and went to the front desk.
“Good afternoon, ma’am, my young brother and I are very tired and homeless, will you house us?” I could have begged, but it would be much too embarrassing.
“I’m sorry, miss, but we house plenty of the ill, but we do not house the homeless.” she informed me. Her black hair was tied up into a bun and she had green eyes.
“My brother is sick,” I blurted out. I went against my mother by being stubborn. I was much too desperate to think of myself. I could only think of Abe’s well-being.
“Oh? How so?” she asked, examining him.
“He is very weak, and he complains of back aches,” I answered honestly. She told me she would house him for a few nights, but I was not welcomed. I nodded and thanked her greatly. They took Abe from me. I was relieved yet sad that I was alone. The woman told me to return after three nights. I nodded and head out the door. I wandered around the town, passing by all different people.
I came across a small cottage. I knocked and a small woman answered the door. She had short grey hair that was in a low pony tail and her eyes were a pale brown. Her face was chubby and round and very pale but she wore light lipstick. She had a long blue dress on with blue slippers.
“Good afternoon young lady,” she greeted me.
“Good afternoon, uh, may I stay for a few nights?” I pled. I stared up at her round face as it turned to a smile.
“Why of course, young lady, you can stay with my husband and I, please, come inside.” She gestured me to come inside, and I entered the small house. I saw a long couch with a chair and a table.
“I am making dinner now, are you hungry at all?” she asked, pointing toward the kitchen.
“Oh, no thank you, I have some food, I don’t want to be such a bother.” I opened my bag but she stopped me.
“Nonsense, you shall come and eat with my husband and I, I am making some warm soup fresh off the stove.” she told me to go to the table and then her husband slowly joined me. When we all sat down and the old woman gave our meals, I politely started to eat.
“What is your name?” the old woman wondered. I looked up from my soup and smiled.
“Amelia,” I answered, “Amelia Right, may I call you Miss?”