Death lurks beyond every corner, every shadow. The Black Death hath taken all from us - our children, our health, our sanity, our future. Just last night alone, in our once-fair city streets, one hundred-fifty perished. All either bitten by the dark rodent, or the carrying wind. Our friars line the street praying to the heavens, fearing the end of the world. They pray, but to what God? What God would put us through all of this, this Hell of death? “Pray,” say I, “we cannot stay, come now, let’s away,” but there is no escape - no where to go. No life will remain in just a few years time.
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