Plague

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


Adventure of a young boy traveling from one continent to another.

Submitted: May 28, 2018

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Submitted: May 28, 2018

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Once there was a boy who was cast out by his brothers and sisters.  He wandered the streets cold and alone. The boy, sick and afraid, ran west.  He ran as far as he could until he reached the Atlantic.

At a boat harbor along the Atlantic the boy grew desperate. He ran to a nearby ship captain and solemnly asked the captain if he could board the ship to America with them.  The captain looked at the boy. Then noting the sickness that hadbefallen the boy, then looked towards his ship’s crew.  All looked at the boy and turned away. None of them wouldhave a sickened boy along with them.  Yet, the captain agreed to allow the boy passage to America.

During the voyage the boy was confined to the captain’s quarters.  The captain made a small opening in the door to his room to pass food to the boy without coming into contact.  Not once was the boy allowed on deck. After many mornings, they reached

storm ridden nights and calm mornings they had reached the promised land.  The boy, while making his way west, heard rumors of a people who had a medicine that could cure the

boy of his ailment.  As soon as the ship docked, he said his thanks to the captain for his generosity and left.

Several days had passed before the boy found the healer.  The healer gave him an ointment to apply to his skin everyday until his illness was cured.  So the boy took the ointment said his thanks and left. He did as the healer told him. He applied the ointment to his arms and legs, back and chest until his illness was cured.

The boy, happy as he could be, made a new life in America.  He found a job and a beautiful wife. After several years he had a happy family with two children.  Even after his amazing years of health he did not forget the healer who had cured him. He wondered what had happened to the man who saved his life.

After the boy left with his ointment, the healer’s family fell ill.  Many painful nights later the healer’s wife and child passed. The cloud of death spread through their tribe.  Man after

man began falling ill, then days later, passing into a wakeless sleep.  Months after the boy left, all the people the healer had known had passed.  The ointment did not work. Half a year later since the boy had met the healer, thousands more had died with no end to the suffering in sight.  Several years later the healer passed away from natural causes, but

hundreds of thousands of the healer’s people had died.

The boy, now a grown man, reads in the newspaper that hundreds more of locals have died from a new disease.

Recognizing the symptoms of the disease, the boy fell into a dark hole.  He knew he had caused this. The boy knew he was to blame.

He stayed home for several days before going to the abandoned house of the healer he had met many years ago.  He sat on the floor where he had sat in his prior visit. The boy reached into his bag, slung behind his back, and pulled out the bottle of ointment the healer had given him and placed it in front of him.  Teary eyed he reached into his bag again and pulled out a polished weapon. One bullet. He only needed one bullet to redeem himself. Slowly he chambered the bullet. Then pulled the hammer back. And fired.

 

 


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