just a beginning

The black plague killed more then those who deserved it that year. No one knew where it came from. Some of the people from town had ideas that it came from the food, some thought it came from the constantly swarming flies, and then of course there were the rats. Those black as night fur covered messengers of death and dismay crawling around in every corner and in every crevice. One could wake up in the middle of the night and see the small translucent spherical eyes staring back almost hovering in the dead of night, waiting for you to turn your attention away. They would tell people not to try and kill them but rather move from any place that they infested. The rats were the ones responsible, or at least the most responsible for the thousands of dead bodies that would be carted away by carriage almost on a daily basis. The carts ran day and night, the beaten up wooden boxes rattled up and down the uneven road sometimes having to stop to pick up more lifeless bodies lying on the side of the road. The burly men would step down off the carriage clothed in the safest way and throw the limp nameless vestiges on top of the others; their cold dark stares facing outward, mothers shielding the eyes of their coughing children. The wobbly wooden contraption was heading towards the outskirts of Eyam; there was a large clearing deep into the woods that was prepared months before by some of the larger men who had volunteered in lieu of wasting away in their own houses waiting. They worked day after day swinging axes into the birch and digging the largest hole possible; at the end of the third day the hold was deeper and darker then the hole that was etching away at their own hearts. When the bodies came for the first time, the workers had no prior warning. They stood there as the carriage tumbled forwards across the rocks and piles of chopped wood. The putrid smell of rotten eggs filled the air overpowering the sweat three days old. The carriage looked like a camel with a large hump on its back and when the large blanket covering the entirety of its rear was ripped off the smell became a second thought and the sight of the half decayed mass of flesh was enough to send a few of the larger men into a gut wrenching hurl. The two men on top of the carriage worked as quickly as they could and tossed the bodies into the hole as if they were throwing fish at market; they fell over the top of each other stacking up until one would knock into the rest and make them all fall over. One of the men from the carriage went back to the drivers seat and fetched a bottle full of kerosene, he uncorked the top and as quickly as the bodies were thrown into the hole they were consumed in flames, only a few of the workers were left to witness the complete act but the images of horror struck eyes and melting skin were as burned into their minds as the remains underneath them. The light from the fire could be seen for a mile, the smell drifted much further. Most of the townspeople who were still breathing never ventured far enough to see the hole let alone the bodies but there were some who’s curiosity overtook the best of their better judgment and went close enough to see. When people would ask them about what they saw, they never were able to speak much. It was the look in their eyes that gave away most of the details. They did not look as if they had seen a ghost; they looked more as if they saw the truth of an inevitable reality.

The year was 1665 and Christian Remney was the oldest son of his family. His birthday had only been two weeks before and yet the passing of those few weeks were an eternity even for a boy who just reached his teens This was a time for discovering himself and becoming a more active part of society but was masked by an overwhelming intent to survive and to look after his younger brother, his best friend, Marcus. Marcus, the sickly pale and malnourished version of his older brother, was the one who was the most misunderstood. Some of the town’s people were convinced that Marcus came from some place far away, an orphan, the piece of a jigsaw puzzle that never seems to fit no matter how hard one tries to push. Marcus knew how they felt; he could feel their eyes on him as him and his older brother strolled up the alley to one of the adjoining towns. Even though he wore similar pants, shoes and top pieces Marcus knew he was worlds apart from his brother. Christian’s golden blonde hair flowed and cascaded down his neck and onto his shoulders like a sparkling waterfall accenting his sky blue eyes making for a very attractive landscape. Marcus wondered at times why his brother would want to spend time let alone be seen in public with him; his hair even though it was as long as Christian’s was as dark as the midnight sky and it flowed more like an uneasy sea or tidal wave crushing the pour soul underneath it; his eyes were dark and empty and when he would look up at his brother he would have to shield them from the sun refracting off his brothers much lighter locks of hair. Marcus did truly live in the shadows in more ways then one and even though his frail body prevented him from defending himself from the other boys in the town, he didn’t mind having Christian by his side fending off the demons that sought to drag him further into the hell that had already been created for him by the man in the sky all the others so fondly adorned as their Father in heaven. Sometimes being in the shadows was not always such a bad thing, however, since one would not have to live up to any unreasonable expectations or perform like some puppet controlled by unseen strings. Marcus saw everything that was happening in the town and further out as some sort of reckoning, a payback for all the years that the people in his town has scoffed at his very existence while at the same time clutching their precious Bible in an ironical manner that would only fit the blindest of sheep. Marcus never mentioned how he felt about the people to Christian because he knew it would only make him upset since it was those very people that constantly injected him full of pride; they asked him to do the most menial of tasks just to be around him, to look at him with his gorgeous and mesmerizing eyes. The youngest girls were most to blame for this behavior; they used to come over to their small house almost on a daily basis and even though it was looked down on by most no one ever said much. Marcus would be in his room when they came by and would remain until there was no doubt in his head they had left. He didn’t want to be seen or judged and his room which he shared with Christian was the only hiding place where he felt safe from prying eyes and loose tongues.