Bottom Bag…a Halloween Tale
@2009 S. Michael Downs
In 1348 the scourge known as the Black Death ravished all of Europe.Millions died and the poorest of these were either burned or stuffed into burlap bags and quickly buried in mass graves. This is the story of Silas Mann, humble baker, newly dead plague victim and now…bottom bag.
Where am I?asked Silas.
You’re dead. Replied a gruff voice from above.
Who are you?
Jonathan Edward Revere, master scribe at your service. said the voice.
I don’t feel dead. Why am I in this burlap bag? asked Silas fidgeting with the scratchy burlap which surrounded him.
Are you breathing? Sometimes they bury plague victims while they are still alive.
No, I don’t think so. Said Silas, feeling for any signs of breath coming from his nose or mouth.
Well, there you are then ….you’re dead.
This is death? asked Silas.
I presume so, I really don’t know. I myself have never been dead before. Neither have I been stuffed into a bag and buried, but I would venture to submit it seems the most likely conclusion to the circumstance in which I find myself.
Hello! said a third distinctly feminine voice.
Yes. Replied Silas from the dark confines of his bag.
My name is Pricilla, Pricilla Balan. I’m a few bags above you.
Pleased to meet you Pricilla, despite the rather awkward circumstances of the occasion. How did you come to be here, did you die of the plague?
No, my master beat me to death. He made me do unspeakable things and often whipped me until I bled. I guess he got carried away with his cruel pleasure. I was indentured to him by my father for a debt. He owned me body and soul and treated me so faultily.
Bounder! I have no respect for such cruelty amongst the aristocracy, He is no gentleman! Owing money should not subject one to the cruel whims of sadistic well-to-do men. exclaimed Edward.
Here, Here! Came an unknown voice from above and to the left. My name is Robert Danbury and I was a murderer a thief and worse in my time, but I lie here above some others who were higher than me in life, supposed gentlemen all.
Wait, what’s this? said Silas, there’s water seeping into my bag!
It must be raining, damn shame; you’re bottom bag, poor fellow. The water seeps down through the bodies and settles. Said Edward.
What does that mean? asked Silas sheepishly.
I’m afraid it’s not too good for you dear boy. The moisture will emulsify your flesh and cause you to rot rather quickly. Insects and worms seem to like the liquefied flesh as well, easier on the digestion I expect, it’s no fun being bottom bag.
I guess I should have expected no less. I was a baker in life and spent my days shuffling bread and pastries in and out of a hot stove all day long. I barely saw the sun light.
At least you weren’t sold to a cruel master to work until you dropped and then be made to serve his every wicked desire. Pricisilla chimed in as she began to sing…
“Ring around the rosy,
Pocket full of posies.
Ashes, ashes,
All fall down!”
Sang Pricilla.
What kind of song is that? asked Silas.
My mother taught it to me when I was a very little girl. It’s about the black death. “Ring around the rosy” are the round red marks the plague makes on your face and body. “Pocket full of posies”, well, that’s the flowers we bury people we love with and set upon their graves. “Ashes, ashes”, most bodies were burned at first. Now there’s too many so they just put us all in bags and bury us deep. All dead…we “all fall down”…see?
Wonderful song to teach an innocent child, typical of the cruelties of life even at its very beginnings! said Silas.
I suspect we all have our bemoaning's about life. said Edward.
I find myself angry….lowly in life and now bottom bag in death, is there to be no Heaven then? asked Silas.
I suppose not, life was not what I expected. Why then should death be as we had supposed. No pearly gates or angels to sing us to our just rewards.
Oh, Death be not so foul as to cause me shame to lie here amongst my peers. recited Edward from Gamet’s play of the “Angels of Canterbury”.
Well, I’m not having it! said Silas boldly.
What can you do? Asked Pricilla.
I… I guess I’ll pray.
Oh heavenly father, you made me lowly in life and now hast set me low in death. I have lived a pious life as was your dictate, now I beseech thee to set right my circumstance in death. Surely I do not deserve to be the lowest of the low. Hear my prayer and make just my deserved fate!
Silas lay silent in expectation, as if almighty God himself would set light into the darkness of his bag and speak only unto him, but only silence prevailed.
Are you disappointed? Asked Pricilla.
If this then is death in some outrageous form, surely there must be more than this. Our very circumstance, our consciousness in death demonstrates the truth of it. Silas replied.
Well said, friend Silas, still here we lay, unchanged and unheard except for each other. said Edward.
Suddenly, as if in answer to Edward’s lament, the earth began to heave and shudder and all the earth up heaved and tossed Silas and the others about leaving no bag set as it was and all the soul contents of the bags screaming and afraid, until their was silence in the grave.
What happened? asked Edward.
I think it was an earthquake. said Pricilla.
Edward?
Yes, replied Edward.
I think God heard me, the water is gone… I’m not bottom bag anymore.
Maybe there’s hope for us yet, maybe there’s more to death than this. replied Edward.
Suddenly, from the very bottom of the pile of bags came a voice…
Blimey, there’s water in my bag…came the voice of Robert Danbury, thief and murderer.
Bloody ‘ell! I’m bottom bag!
The End
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