Elianora knelt beside her mother’s tombstone and wept.
“Dear Mother. Tragedy has befallen our great empire. A black sickness is spreading throughout the land, leaving death and disfigurement in its wake.”
“Father says it is merely a disease of the uncouth, of the peasants. He is comforted in his belief that the sickness will spare us. Our God would never allow such an atrocity to strike down a noble king and his family. I know it is my place to heed his beliefs; nevertheless, I am confused. Father awoke this morning teeming with skin peculiarities and fraught with madness.”
I guess you get the moral of the story: disease and death has no social bias, nor political or religious affiliation. Never get too comfortable. The Black Death plague killed an estimated 25 million people in Europe and Asia during the 14th century and beyond. If you want to read more about the plague, click here.
This melancholy 99-word story was written for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Time hasn’t allowed me to participate much in this writing community lately. If you would like to try your hand at writing a story or read the other stories, click on the link below: