The Girl of the Black Plague

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A young girl running away from her past, for months she has been sleeping and hiding in the deep dark filthy allies of old London.

But tonight she will be saved from death.

Submitted: April 25, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 25, 2015



Year: 1850 – Victorian London
Chapter 1 – Death

She lay on a thick dirty stack of newspapers down a deep dark alley, a hanging light shone down on the black stone floor but the light appeared to have dropped straight down, seemingly to have defeated its purpose. She squinted at the light through her watery eyes, her eyes they shone bright blue then suddenly clouded up with tears. She looked at the light, it seemed like heavens away, she closed her eyes tightly.
“Never again will I be so close to such a heavenly light” she thought to herself.
“I will be consumed by the London fog and eaten by the black plague” she whispered to herself as her face disappeared into the darkness of the ally.

Her face was buried so deep into her dirty rags that it muffled the sound of the on coming drunk men. There were two of them; one was fat with small legs. He was struggling to walk straight, his legs looked amusingly cartoony same for the other man but he was on the other extreme side he was very tall, towering over his drunken friend, falling then using his fat friend for support they laughed loudly as if their lives depended on it.

The realization of how cold it was down that deep dark dirty ally hit her, as the two men slowly approached in her direction. Her bare dirty feet placed on the dirty stack of newspapers. She quickly hid herself with her dirty robe. She wondered how she appeared sitting down up against the wall, her clothes filthy and as black as the wall that she leaned against. She hoped she was invisible but there wasn’t any time to think about that. That men were approaching by her about pass but they stopped. The largest of the two men stood with his back to her the other man stood facing him.

“You know what my dear bastard friend? I have slept with 1000 whores in my life” said the tallest of the men lifting a bottle of wine into the air as if he had just won an annual price.

“Hell you have, I doubt the blood from your heart can even reach your manhood in years, look at how tall you are” shouted the fat man. 

He stepped forward to grab the bottle of wine. The tallest of the men swore then pushed the fat one back.

She saw it in slow motion, the fat man was falling in her direction she would be squashed. Maybe it had something to do with her being only 5 foot, deeply malnourished and emotional. She somehow stood up and jumped to one side. The fat man hit the wall hard and fell to the floor; he sat against the wall, soundless and motionless.

The tallest of men looked at her, his eyes darting to her. He jumped back in fright; his reaction some would say was just. Her dirty filthy complexion and the way she suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Then and again the man was deeply intoxicated.
“Demon” he shouted then he threw the bottle of wine at her. She was too fast, she ran down the deep dark dirty ally passing the pitiful light that shone from above, her bare feet whipping at the dirty wet cold stone floor.

She was being chased but she knew could escape she was so good at it. The exit to the ally was fast approaching; she heard people, laugher, bells and horses. She tripped, running that speed she knew it will be a hard fall, she stretched out her hands to break the fall, but it would be no good at that speed. She rolled and rolled again, hitting her head on something. Her head was spinning she heard people laughing, bells and horses somewhere behind her and a wooden door opening. The man that was chasing her was 10 feet away but she couldn’t even stand, her poor head must have been bleeding. There was a man standing behind her talking to the man in front of her. Her head was buzzing with sounds yet she could tell that he men were arguing and but the man that stood behind her wasn’t shouting he was very calm and polite unlike the drunk man that stood in front of her.

She realized she was being lifted up and guided into the horse carriage, she tried to flee. It was impossible; her head injury removed her ability to navigate. Then came the voice, a kind sweet and deeply comforting voice.

“You could have killed yourself, your head hit my carriage if it had been any lower, the wheel of the carriage would have rolled over your neck, resulted in your death.

He spoke of death to her yet his deep voice was intoxicatingly comforting, she didn’t know him nor did she care. All she knew was that she was safe and he had saved her from death.

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