"Where are we to go?" Emily and I stand at the doorway of our mother's old room. Her body lay in the bed, stiff and black. A puss bubble had grown on the side of her neck, making her look even more scary than the Plague itself.
"I do not know yet, but we'll find a place. I'm sure of it." I whisper back, not daring to open my mouth too much and let in the sickness that surrounds me. Emily just continues crying, with her head in her hands. I stand slightly in front of her, to shield what is left of our mother's body from her view. I sling the sack of belongings over my shoulder, stuff it with a few apples from the kitchen, and we walk out of our old home together.
It is illegal to carry a dead body outside of the home until the dead-collectors come to retrieve it, so mother will have to stay inside the house all day. I can't stand to think what horrible things are happening to her body while she lay in the heat. At least in the ground, no one will have to see nor smell it.
Emily still plays in the tree near the graves, although now there is no butterfly to make her happy. I wonder if the butterfly left just like mother; and is never to come back.
I think it might be time to flee the town. I'll work every hour of every day taking over Mother's job and working in the graves. The laundry has been backed up a little since Mother got sick, so if I work hard I can get extra. My last resort would be asking Emily for work.
I date the page in my journal the 6/12/1348. Quickly shutting it before anyone can see the book, and shove it in my pocket. I've been writing in it ever since Father died. A town's person gave it to me as a present. I never told anyone about it, not even Mother. I don't want anyone to see it, for they will make fun of me for having a diary.
"Jacob, do you think everyone will die?" Emily asks, running towards me. I sigh.
"You shouldn't be over here, we'll talk later. You aren't to come near here!" I yell, waving her off. She obeys, with tear streaks down her face. I swallow hard. I can't cry here.