A day in my favourite place: Medival Europe

Written by Aliesha Azzuri |
Published on:

I stare down at the wet, mud-ridden cloth held in my grasp; it was my mother's cherished handkerchief. The priceless piece of fabric had been ruined thanks to my younger brother's carefree actions. He will pay for this. A weak, water-damaged wooden door plagued with mold is the only thing standing between me and the worst aspect of this family. From the day our father died he had been nothing but a burden to our mother and I, and the lack of respect he has for such a personal family heirloom is the final piece of proof I need to confront him about his apathetic behaviors. Throwing the now worthless piece of material over my left shoulder, I let my opposing fists hastily pound upon the rotting door, resembling the roars of thunder in the mere distance. 

"Who is it!" a husky voice cries from the other side of the door. "Nevis, let me in" I reply without a hint of emotion. He fumbles with the lock for a second too long, before cautiously opening the door. Infront of me now stands my fourteen year-old younger brother, Nevis, with the guiltiest look I believe I've ever seen. He doesn't see me often during the week; especially when I'm in my work clothes, so it may be coming as a suprise to see me draped head to toe in a waxed black leather gown.

"Is this about mother's clo-" I don't allow Nevis to finish his sentence, I simply walk past him into our house. He lingers behind me, possibly attempting to apologize before I lash out at him for the fifth time this week. But I decide not to give him that opportunity. The sound of my heavy duty leather boots against the aged wooden stairs would be enough to wake my mother from her slumber, if she hadn't already awoken from my agressive knocking. Nevis soon follows me, still wary not to highten my enragement. After taking several lefts, I arrive at my mother's bedroom. The door makes no sound and my brother and I quietly enter her resting place.

"...an.." she croaks out, struggling to left her head up enough to pronounce her words correctly. "Mother isn't doing well, I have reason to believe that she.... she may not survive the night" Nevis hesitantly informs me. Her body is pale and ashy, and her limbs are being devoured by a black coloured infection. I can almost see her eyes glassing over. With one last exchange of a smile I delicately place my mother's cherished handkerchief over her face. Her eldest son in a plague doctor cloak was the last face she ever saw. I turn back to Nevis, who has a horrific look on his face. He doesn't say anything before I capture him in an embrace. Our mother had finally succumbed to the black plague.

Copyright © TravelDailyLife.com

Author: Aliesha Azzuri
I'm an aspiring author in highschool


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