(Nothing screams death to me more than The Black Death, so I wrote a Medieval Diary Entry about an artist who survived it and portrays the results of the mass death. Sorry that it's so long)
The fields were empty, there used to be so many people but it was not always this vacant before it was bustling with life. People working hard to achieve their goals or perhaps because they were forced into it. It seems as though we had been victorious against the pestilence. For so long life had been under its oppression. The survivors hadn’t the slightest idea how to feel. Those hearing this years from now wouldn’t be able to comprehend the confusion. What had we done to end this? No, what had we done to even start this in the first place?
Still I worked hard my whole life. I worked hard despite being in constant fear of the rising evil. Any person knowing that any moment they could die with the loss of all hope they engaged in reckless behavior causing havoc on the streets and giving into gluttonous temptations. I was still young during this time and it was horrifying to recall the many conflicting beliefs of people who argued against the Pope each with their own solution to the problem in mind. Still we did the same as we always had in fear of the punishment of heresy.
There were the brave few and at the age of fourteen I too myself was formulating my own heresies in my head. It couldn't make sense. It was then I went out into the streets searching for answers, I should have died according to the teachings of the physicians. However, never once had I become sick. I was alone for the majority of my life. Perhaps it was because I had no one close to me who could give the bubos or suffocation by blood.
I still recall the scene vividly everywhere people were suffering. I could sense nothing but pain as I wandered unsure as to whether or not I would ever face such a scene again. I remember some nights hoping that I would be infected by death so I wouldn’t have to wake up tomorrow and live through the nightmare. Still I swallowed my cowardice and grabbed my notebook as I left my hay bed. I was nothing more than a surf, I couldn’t write but I certainly had a nifty hand in artistry to which I interpreted death for myself.
She turned into a person as I drew her more and more deceivingly beautiful yet grotesquely violent and her clutches were inescapable. I hid this notebook under a pile of old clothes in fear of what others might be led to think by the imagery that I depicted. People of all sorts in her grasp she was there hovering over the blood soaked and black splotched person much like smoke. Filling the air as you could not escape her. She would fill your lungs and as she left she would steal your breath and take it away.
The mischievous woman was the one who caused all of this trouble yet I found myself unable to stop sketching her out. As I sat down to eat alone in my secluded from everyone else I would myself unintentionally as I hypnotized or it was a part of my very nature I began to sketch out the entity. She began to disappear as to where my Lady Death had gone. I hadn’t the slightest idea. As not even smoke remained in the air. She liberated the air and everyone had rejoiced as she dissipated.
When her cruel reign had ended I was still alone but with so few people being around perhaps I had a chance. I had gotten used to the sight of dead bodies being lugged away by cartfulls. Covered in cloth there were several pages in my sketchbook filled with depictions of those people Lady Death happy with her work as she departed from them. Maybe she was lonely and wanted a few friends, perhaps she was cursed to abide by the rules of a master who forced her to do so as a slave. Maybe she really was just a pure sadist, either way she’s gone now leaving a trail of bodies in her midst.
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The other day there was a man in front of the cathedral, claiming it’s corruption that they too were sinners thus why they died and thus why they could not be trusted. Another testified against him trying to justify the ways of the church. He looked highly religious himself. As he would say it, “ They simply just misinterpreted the words of God. We just misunderstood but look now we are all right with God and there is no longer a reason to lurk in the confusion.” I didn’t stay around to hear the rest of the argument but I was sure with the way that people were behaving now it could have very well ended in bloodshed.
People were refusing any sacraments altogether. I didn’t have an opinion on it because I was a traveling artist who displayed my old works and continued to work on more. Whatever happened had no effect on me. Even though it would have interfered with me in the past when I still worked on the fields. I passed those pastures everyday just for the sake of reminiscing in addition to that I simply had no other choice. It was the only way to get to my master’s shop. Though his work had nothing to do with my own I figured without work it was the best way to make myself useful.
He had a fair daughter, who I had become infatuated with and I had no intent on leaving her soon. I knew that I probably couldn’t take her hand but I was a foolish one who still dreamed. She taught me how to read and write and she taught me much about music and storytelling. She had picked up nearly everything she knew solely from watching and studying the ways of troubadours and journeymen. She would spend hours following them around rather than following up to her duties as a guildmaster’s daughter.
How could I not fall in love with a woman after my very own heart? How could I be the one to blame for this? Well I continued on with my straining work just wanting to continue on with painting. I had so many ideas and so many others who were waiting to be depicted through my art that was displayed on my desk. Occasionally my mind would wander down paths unknown and when I gazed back down at my work table I had created a masterpiece. I crumbled up the piece of paper and stuck it into any possible crevasse that I could find. Saving it for a proper finalization to be displayed with the rest.
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By the end of the day I had completed nothing, nothing like when I was working in the field in my younger days I would never get distracted. Young and determined even if I didn’t love the laborious lifestyle I was content because I knew nothing else. I certainly didn’t have interests in love affairs back in those times. I forgot exactly when I began having eyes for things other than my work but it would be hard to find in the first place. It was a slow development in me.
Once again my Master would be disappointed but never asked me to remain there and finish my job. I was always dismissed early. I didn’t understand, most would have me kicked out or compensate with harsh punishments. As I returned there was another man standing in front of the cathedral. His clothing was nothing more than drapes and he appeared to be waiting for someone shifting around impatiently. Who was he waiting for?
However he asked me if I was an artist, his voice was raspy and deep as he croaked. I could barely understand but I gave an honest answer as I didn’t have a reason to lie. He grinned as he reached into his layers of clothes and pulled out a piece of paper. It was a kind of paper that only a noble could get their hands on. Finely weaved parchment nothing that could possibly be mine, he asked the question anyways. I answered him honestly saying that something of such fine quality could simply not be mine. It had to belong to a noble or even possibly a man of royalty himself. He was wondering if I could paint a picture like it as it had caught his eyes. He would offer the person a great sum of money but he was unable to find the man anywhere.
I felt bad for letting the man down as he seemed desperate but it was something that I couldn’t help him with. Still I was curious and wanted to see the work of someone else far beyond my experience. What kind of images would they portray of what kind of techniques they had been taught. Certainly heavenly ones that I could only dream of. I asked him to unroll the paper for me. I wasn’t sure if he hesitated but he immediately unrolled it without a second thought.
It was someone who looked nearly identical to the one who I wanted to be with. It boiled jealousy in my heart to think that someone else was marveling at her beauty. If it could be her than that would then the feeling only grew more intense. However I only let out a deep sigh, the artistry was by far magnificent and aside from the image of my love plastered upon it I admired the skills of the man who had painted it.
As I was looking across the paper I found small workings in the corner. Workings that I had seen before. Marked on everything that my guild master and his daughter would craft. It was then I realized that there was a deeper reason that I was chosen despite my expertise being none of the sort. I briefly thanked the man before continuing on my way. This was just the beginning of my day, I would continue to travel into the night. Every place was so empty it was hard to find people who would marvel at my work, people to paint and draw for.
Still as I found a place to rest against the wall of the building I had tried to find the picture that I had sketched out earlier by accident but it was nowhere to be found. I looked back at my first drawing of the Lady made of smoke, despite being quite advanced for my age it was clear that I was still inexperienced but I had slowly improved from then learning new techniques from countless experiments spending hours in secluded areas as I recalled the horrifying sight that had been before. I hadn’t known why I survived but perhaps it was so that I could wed the woman who I longed for. Perhaps it was so that I could continue in my work and amount to something greater than I had ever imagined. It was always possible that there was no reason at all.
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