Plague

The sight of the cottage below the hill was like a beacon of hope calling out to them.
“Mother! Mother! I see Aunt Ascilia’s cottage, we’re almost there!”, cried out Elias. “Elias,
hush! Nobody should know we’re back here.”, replied Isolda in a sharp whisper. “Mother,
really? There’s nobody back here who would tell except the birds and hares!”, Elias’s sister,
Juliana, said joyfully. Everyone was relieved to see that cottage. It meant one thing- hope.
“Does she know we’re coming?,” said Juliana. Isolda sighed, perhaps she was nervous.. or
perhaps she was just exhausted from the 50 mile journey on foot from their coastal village
Catania, Italy, to Aunt Ascilia’s cottage in Enna. “Yes she should be well with it. The day she left
she told me that whenever danger came, her home would welcome us with open arms.” Sicily
was one of the first places to become infected with the sickness, and it spread like wildfire.
Some claimed you spread the illness by merely speaking to an infected person. Elias, Isolda, and
Juliana had made the journey with rage tied over their mouths, only to be taken off while
eaten. The journey lasted about a week longer than it should have due to the fact that every
village they spotted, they could not go through. The main roads were much too dangerous,
nobody could risk that on their family. Isolda reached out and grasped both Juliana and Elias’s
hands. Isolda never really realized how beautiful her daughter was until this moment. Her dark
brown hair tied up in a scarf, olive skin tanned from the Italian sun, and blue eyes clear as the
Mediterranean. “Where did you get that necklace?”, inquired Isolda, pointing to the small silver
cross she had adorned around her neck. “Father gave it to me a long time ago, you may have
not remembered,” she responded.
Approaching the door was tense. Isolda said she would knock first, since she was
Ascilia’s sister. Knock knock knock! The three quick raps hung in the air for a few moments,
which seemed like an eternity. The three peasants stood with baited breath, their lives
depended on this moment. Someone behind the door shuffled. “Don’t open it..” a muffled voice
behind the door urged. Another long pause. Finally Isolda cried out. “Ascilia! Please open your
door! I’ve brought both Elias and Juliana, your niece and nephew. Please let us in.” Silence filled
the air as Isoldas cry for mercy rang out. There was a long creaking noise as the door slowly
opened to them. Aunt Ascilia stood there in her grey, long sleeved dress, a gold crucifix hung
from around her neck, but something was missing. Where was her face? Her face was covered
by a mask which looked like the head of a raven. Two small holes for her eyes, and a long
pointed beak at the end. “Are you clean?”, asked Ascilia, her voice sounded like an echo behind
the mask. “Yes, of course. You told me to come here in times of danger, and I would never bring
the danger to you. Not to my only sister”, said Isolda. Ascilia was hesitant for a minute, but she
finally stepped aside the doorway and let the three of them in. The cottage smelled of herbs
and crosses were hung everywhere. Their were candles and open Bibles, bottles of elixirs, more
masks, and cloth hung over the windows so no man could see in. “Please sit”, directed Ascilia as
she pointed to some bales of straw made into a bench in the middle of the one room cottage.
“Is Catania infected?”, she asked the three. “Yes we were one of the first coastal villages to
spread the sickness. The sailors came off the boat at the port.. and some of them were already
dead, but.. the ones who weren’t were covered in those black boils, I remember seeing them
clearly, they were black.. their eyes were bleeding and they bled from their mouths.. and, oh,
the smell..”, she trailed off and closed her eyes. These things were hard to imagine. “Let me
check you all”, said Ascilia. She began to poke and prod at them, checking their eyelids, looking
into their throats, looking for swollen lymph nodes, listening to the way they breathe, seeing if
they felt hot. Ascilia would have made a wonderful doctor, if only a woman could be a doctor at
this time. “And you are all sure that there is no chance for any of you to have the infection? I
can’t have that risk on my family”, said Ascilia. “Yes we’re sure. I told you that we avoided very
town on the way here, and the only ones we passed on the country roads were bodies in
caravans, the undertakers have no way to bury all of them. But we all know to avoid the bodies.
Ascilia I promise”, responded Isolda. “Fine, I trust you, sister,” stated Ascilia. “Everyone, you can
come inside now!,” she called to behind the house. All 5 of her children and her husband,
George, came in from the outside yard with their masks on. It was almost comical, they looked
like a small flock of ravens. “I have some vegetables stewing in the yard as we speak, along with
some rabbit George shot in the countryside. We’ll eat dinner here shortly” said Ascilia.
An hour later, things seemed almost as if they were back to normal. The two families sat
together on opposite sides of the makeshift table, the room luminescent by the candles as their
faces were bathed in a golden glow, as they feasting on their steamed vegetables and rabbit
stew. They laughed, talked about God, talked about distant memories.. no body even
mentioned The Black Death outside. “Juliana, you look a little fatigued,” said George. “Aren’t
we all?,” replied Isolda, “After all, it was a 50 mile journey to even get here!”, they laughed.
“What are those things you wear on your head?”, Elias asked with wide eyes. “Those things that
look like birds heads?” “Oh those are our sick masks”, replied Ascilia. “You see, we fill the end
of the snout part with herbs so we don’t breathe in the illness. We keep some with us, I made
them with fabric and my sewing needle , and the herbs are..” Suddenly, Juliana began to choke.
She began to cough and hack violently on her food. “What’s going on?”, asked Isolda. “Probably
just has a carrot caught on her throat, they were a bit raw still yet when I was cooking them..”
replied George. Juliana stood up with her hands around her neck, still coughing. A sea of red
began to trickle from her tear duct, and small red pearls of blood dripped onto the table cloth.
She began to expel blood from her throat, and it stained her dress. “Oh, God..”, whimpered
Elias. Ascilia stood up abruptly and she grabbed Juliana. “She’s infected! You lied!,” she yelled
at them. “How can this be? We didn’t even see a living soul during our journey!”, cried out
Isolda. Juliana pointed to her neck and uttered a few, gurgled words. “My.. necklace..” she said.
Isolda gasped, she remembered now. That necklace had been seen a few days earlier, but it
wasn’t being worn on Juliana. It was being worn by one of the dead. Juliana had stopped along
the road near the because she claimed she had to urinate, so that way her mother would turn
her head and not see her taking the necklace… “How could you?!”, said Isolda. “My own
daughter has lied to me-“ she stopped as was interrupted by the coughing of Elias. “Mother, I
don’t feel so good..” he uttered as he began to vomit. Isolda realized she was feeling a little
feverish as well. She grinned at her sister. “Oh my dear, beloved sister.. why are you still trying
to keep out the inevitable? Can’t you see? We’re all infected now..” and she began to cough.

Plague (from Juliana’s POV)

I don’t know what possessed me to take that necklace, but it seemed hopeful. When I
saw it on that dead woman, it almost seemed like it was beckoning my name, just asking for me
to take it. It was glittering silver in the sunlight, and that’s what caught my eye.
I didn’t want to go to my Aunt Ascilia’s house. I knew what was going to happen to me,
and I knew the chances of coming back from this sickness were slim. I had been feeling feverish
for a little while now, about a day, but luckily my mother nor my brother have noticed. I tried to
hide my disappointment when we arrived because Elias seemed so joyous upon our arrival. My
mother seemed reluctant about being here at the cottage, but I knew we were very much
isolated. “Mother, really? There’s nobody back here who would tell except the birds and
hares!”, I replied to her, only to make her less uneasy. I remember her taking out hands as we
approached the door, and that was the last time I would ever hold my mother’s hand. I
hesitated after she asked me, “Where did you get that necklace?”, I thought she would
remember me stopping on that road, and the bodies… “Oh. Father gave it to me, a long time
ago, you may have not remembered”. He was dead now.
Knock knock knock! My body cringed as I heard the knocking sound on that wooden
door. I looked at the windows and noticed that they were covered with some kind of fabric, and
there seemed to be a glow of light bathing the inside of the cottage. I hope nobody answers, I
thought to myself. Oh why am I so selfish? I feel so ill.. can they tell yet? We anxiously awaited
for an answer. I heard my Aunt Ascilia’s voice from beyond the door, but was it her voice? The
door opened slowly, and a face I did not recognize stared back at us. “Are you clean?” the
masked woman asked. She looked like a bird, with that chilling snout and black eyes on the
mask. My mom began to beg for mercy, “Yes, of course. You told me to come here in times of
danger, and I would never bring the danger to you. Not to my only sister.” Sounded pretty
convincing, considering the fact that her daughter was infected.
We were seated in the middle of the room, which was filled with candles and crucifixes
and bottles of potions. The aroma of herbs and sage filled the room in smoky streams. My aunt
gave us a most friendly welcoming by poking our eyes, opening our mouths, but when she went
to check our foreheads for fever, I flinched. “My head scarf,” I said, “Is very hot. We had a very
long journey to get here.” Was she convinced? I awaited anxiously for her response, but there
wasn’t one. “Is Catania infected?”, she asked us. I felt a chill shock my body as I reminisced
about what we saw in our home village. “Yes we were one of the first coastal villages to spread
the sickness. The sailors came off the boat at the port.. and some of them were already dead,
but.. the ones who weren’t were covered in those black boils, I remember seeing them clearly,
they were black.. their eyes were bleeding and they bled from their mouths.. and, oh, the
smell..”, I trailed off. I remembered seeing a woman speak to one of the sailors, and no more
than 48 hours later, she had died of the illness. First it began with fever, than small boils
appeared, nausea, then the worst part.. the blood began to spew from your body like a
fountain.. “And you are all sure that there is no chance for any of you to have the infection? I
can’t have that risk on my family”, said Ascilia. I wanted to scream at her and tell her
everything. I was so selfish, how could I willingly infect my family like this? My mother
answered her quickly and with assurance. “Yes we’re sure. I told you that we avoided very town
on the way here, and the only ones we passed on the country roads were bodies in caravans,
the undertakers have no way to bury all of them. But we all know to avoid the bodies. Ascilia I
promise”, my mother said. This was all a lie, and only I knew it. My throat burned, and I could
not tell if I was holding back tears or if it was the plague.
Things only felt worse a few hours later at the dinner table. Everyone around me
talked of simpler times, told stories, joked, ate and drank merrily. I could barely choke down my
food. I could sense my uncle George’s eyes pasted on me as I picked my food with little bits at a
time. “Juliana, you look a little fatigued,” said my uncle George. I nearly gagged on my food.
Can he tell I’m infected? “Aren’t we all?,” my mother quickly cut in, “After all, it was a 50 mile
journey to even get here!”, they all laughed. A moment of relief, but only a mere moment. I
heard my aunt begin to discuss the masks she was wearing, along with her family. I remember
the doctors in our village wearing those.. and they dragged out the bodies.. the dragging left
streaks of blood on the roads.. the doctors look like birds of prey.. if you see them, you know
you’re done for.. I could not hold it in any longer. I thought I was about to vomit, but my lungs
began a coughing fit instead. I grabbed my throat with my hands, it felt as though someone was
sitting on it, the pressure was immense. Oh God, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. The pressure
began to move up into my head, my sinus’s were about to explode. Drip drip drip. I didn’t
realize my eyes were bleeding until I saw them staining my dress and the tablecloth. I gagged
blood, unable to speak a word. I’m a dead woman. I’m just as good as dead. Using all the
strength I could, I muttered only two words before I blacked out. “My.. necklace..”

Conclusion
After writing the two stories from both points of view, I find it easier to write in first
person POV because I like to write a single persons thoughts and explain their actions. I learned
that writing a character’s thoughts can help drive the story and make it easier for the reader to
understand their actions. However, writing in one character’s view point is very limited. Writing
a scene in third person is more broad, since you can write about all characters. However, you
can’t use words like “I”, unless it’s in the characters dialogue.