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The cold awakening of the morning autumn breeze spread across the town. Chilling to the bone, the weather caused the peasants of the old village to scramble for warmth. As usual a cart or two creaked and cluttered down the stone and dirt roads carrying dead bodies full of bacteria and disease. It’s not a shock to the people in this time period of course. The bubonic plague has spread and stayed for about seven years already, they were used to it. Death was a common thing.
Little Miss Mary at the age of 18 mixed together a blend of herbs and oils into a small clay pitcher, with some hope of finding a remedy to her mothers suffering. She brushed the crimson hair out of her eyes. Mary was flustered and strained by all the care she had to give to her family. The plague had struck everyone in her household except for her. She knew how to keep herself safe. Miss Mary wore silk gloves which were tied to her wrists at the base of the glove keeping her hands safe from bacteria, and she wore an ebony scarf around her mouth and nose which had been scented with the smoke of lavender incense to make her feel some what pleasant despite the curse upon her and the house she lived in.
Mary’s mother was the only person she could help. It’s not that she didn’t want to care for her younger brother or dear father, it was just that her mother was with child and was in critical state. She rushed to the family room to her mother knocking down a dining chair on her way. Mary could here her mother’s screams of pain. She burst open the room door with her shoulder as she was carrying a dirty silver tray which held wine, bread, water, and her concoction which she learned how to make from the local apothecary.
“It be okay mother. I be here to take care of you.” Mary said as she sat next to her mother’s side on the floor rug. Mary took part of the scarf around her mouth and wiped the sweat from her mother’s forehead.
“Oh my little Miss Mary it hurts so bad. I am so much pain darling.” Replied her mother who reached for the glass of water moaning a sit hurt to even move.
“Here” Mary said as she took the cup and brought it to her mothers mouth, letting her take gulp after gulp with water dripping from her mouth and spilling from the cup. “Let me inspect ye mother dear”
Mary inspected her mother’s wounds and burgeons which were worse. An open blister covered her entire left hand and nonstop oozed puss and blood. It was covered in red, purple, and black splotches. Her bruises had also grown worse which started from her feet and lead a trail of warts up to her knees. Even when she coughed, blood would splatter out of her mouth. She looked like she had fell into a terrible accident with all the injuries she had.
As Mary could see there was no hope for her dear mother she knew it was time. Mary couldn’t bear to see her mother suffer like this any longer. Remedy after remedy there was no cure. Little Miss Mary put her hand behind her back, reaching into the sash of her apron, pulling out a bread knife. Tears released themselves from her puffy red sobbing eyes.
“It’s okay mother. You love God right?” Little Miss Mary Asked.
“Of course I do dear” sighed her mother who was now coughing up blood again.
Mary nodded her head and whispered “Good. There be no more worrying for you.” She struggled to bring the knife fully from her apron. After a few seconds she had the base of the knife in her clutches. She took it with her right hand and sat behind her mother on the floor. She tried to keep her weeping silent as possible to stay strong for her mother.
Mary brought the knife above the side of her mother’s neck as she stroked her dear mother’s hair with her left hand and said between her crying ” It be alright mama. No suffering no more for you.”
“What are ye talking about darling?” panted Mary’s mother
Mary swiftly brought the knife to her mother’s throat and slit it. Her mother let out a gurgling grunt as blood began to pour from her neck creating a rose red stream on the wooden floor boards. Mary let out a scream of horror. It was however the only way to rid her mother of suffering. She would rather her mother die quickly than enduring all of that excruciating pain from her pestilence.
Mary grabbed her mother by the shoulders, and dragged her to the back garden. Little Miss Mary lit a fire and tossed her mother’s body into the flames. Little Miss Mary loved her mother so much that she killed her to rid her of this world. Little Miss Mary’s mother turned to ashes. And that was that.
Mary drowned herself in sobs of guilt and mourning. But she knew her mother was in a better place. She sat with a blank face as she stared at the glowing flames which consumed her mother’s body. Mary sang a common song to try and comfort herself.
“Ring around the rosie,
A pocket full of posie,
We all fall down.”
And that was that…