A Black death story by Selena Bonner (best thriller novels to read .txt) 📖

up from the boxes to see two men carrying the boxes onto the shore. Crouching low, I ran toward the port. Once I was out of site, I started to walk regularly. I walked along a crowded streets, seeing markets with fruits and fish and grains. I walked up to a market and bought a bag of almonds and a bunch of grapes. I walked along the streets, looking around while eating a few of the grapes. Then I stopped and sat down on a bench. I slipped the grapes into my haversack and then took a nap. I woke up when the sky was dark and the streets were empty. I felt weak, but I got up. Feeling a bit hungry, I ate a few almonds and then walked around the city. I was not sure what city it was. I felt sick to my stomach, thinking it was the grapes. I climbed over a tall wooden fence that was shrouded with vines. Then I slumped beside the fence, and eventually fell asleep again.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right


Dear Diary, July 24th, 1665
I still feel sick to my stomach, and I vomited in a can I found. I cannot possibly think I have the illness, not now. I do not have any of the bubbles on my skin yet, but I do feel dizzy and cough and wheeze. I rest more then usual, but I still push myself to move on. I knock on doors to see if anyone will take me in, but they all speak differently then I do. For now I lay behind the tall fence and sleep. I took bits of the almonds and ate some of the grapes. I am so tired right now, I just want to rest.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right


Dear Diary, July 30th, 1665
I could barely walk today, and I have found a bubble on my neck. I vomit up blood in a can and my legs feel weak. I do not want any more almonds or grapes or apples or tomatoes. I am too weak to write in my diary, but I do anyway, this is my gate to my mind. I feel that writing in my diary is the only way to kill the pain.
I now know my twisted fate that my life has given me. I miss my mother and my father, I miss Rachel and Elizabeth and Abe. I hope Abe is safe in the arms of generous people, just like Miss Jane and Alan and John and Gabe. I hope his stomach is full with grapes or almonds or apples or oats. I hope he sleeps in a comfy and cozy bed. I hope he does not have the black death, as I do now.
I wish to not go through pain, but what choice do I have to not go through my fate? I cannot walk to the nearest hospital, and I will surely be rejected from anyone who sees me like this.
I will put my diary away for now, and hopefully get some sleep. Good-night, diary.
Sincerely,
Amelia Right
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Publication Date: 03-03-2010

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