Sta.sh
Father and I are on the run again. It has been almost two years since Empress Jessamine had died. So much has happened since then, it pains me that I cannot remember her. Father, when not half-drunk (lately he's been trying to drink away his worries with what alcohol he can find) would tell me stories of her beauty. She had a daughter named Emily, who's only two years younger than me.
I wonder if she feels the same as I do. My mother was eaten to bone before my very eyes, just as hers was slaughtered. Has she lost the feeling of living as but a child? Has she felt that she is no longer a young girl, but rather an old lady with nothing but grief and sorrow to slumber with each night? I do not know, yet I do not know weather I wish to.
Father tells me that the sewers will be the last thing I see. I know he as lost the will to live and love, just as mother had before she died. I stand strong. I want to die knowing that I survived, willingly and strong. It's hard.
Every night, I fall asleep to the sound of the weepers. Father is hiding the plague from me. But I know he's been infected. I'll kill him as soon as he bleeds from the eyes. However much good he did to me, or evil, he is not one to deserve a long and drawn-out death.
Mother would tell me to kill every weeper I saw, if I could avoid their spit. It was their mercy, to save them from rage and delusions of the plague. I hope to honor that.
My oil lamp runs low. Tomorrow, if Father is well enough to be left, I plan to sneak into the city and steal some more. Perhaps another loaf of bread.
I do not know what will happen tomorrow, but nothing can be worse than the Rat Plague.
| Deviant Login | Shop | Join deviantART for FREE  |
Take the Tour  |
