'Plague Mary'

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 08, 2018

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Submitted: March 08, 2018

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Plague Mary’.

She feels just like some kind of ‘Plague Mary’. It’s not sickness she spreads, at least not of the physical kind. She’s not spreading a virus or some kind of nasty bacteria. No, the plague she carries is one of bad luck, ill-fortune; she makes everything go wrong.

The worst part of it is that all she wants to do is help. She is not selfish in her motivations, just likes to feel that she, in some way, can make things better. Fate conspires against her, for whatever she does or says always turns round to slap her in the face with outrage, or with disapproval.

“No, I’m fine,” people will say when she offers a hand, in spite of it being obvious that they are struggling.

It doesn’t take long for someone else to appear and to offer aid. Unlike her, they are happily taken up on their offer. She tries to make out it doesn’t hurt but sometimes it is so hard.

Occasionally she’ll attempt to join in a conversation. She'll forget not to hold her tongue. She tries to follow what is said, to fit in with the flow but how many words will she utter before she says something badly wrong? It’s never long before it turns to hostility, humiliation, or to out-right scorn.

If people see her approach they mostly turn away, avert their eyes, fail to notice her presence. It does not take many instances for her to notice how groups of people close in, shut her out, put her firmly where she belongs – on the outside, looking in.

And so she learns to become an outcast. She’ll take the loneliness, the jokes made at her expense. She’ll take the rudeness, the stigma, the ostracism, and she will give up trying.

Plague Mary, she might well be, but that does not stop it from hurting, sometimes so much that it is almost unbearable. But there is one thing she promises herself, one vow that she makes. Nobody will ever get to witness the tears that she sheds again, for she will weep alone.

 


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