Waking up to the familiar sounds of a small English town is no longer an option. The stench of death permeates every inch of existence. Peering out of the window, afraid of stepping outside into the pestilence formerly known as home, you gaze past the mounds of rotting townspeople who used to be known as friends.
Every breath catches, because breathing too deep may be too risky. A
disease of unknown origin plagues the countryside farther than you can
travel in a lifetime. Thoughts run through your mind as you watch your
suffering family. The only chance to save them is to confess your sins
in hopes that God’s wrath will end with you. There is nothing;
everything you have known for all of your life is gone.
And there is silence.
-- Christine Beguin, Post-Plague Social, Economic,
and
Historical Characteristics of Chaucer’s Pilgrims
Pieter Bruegel, “The Triumph of Death” 1562
