Andra and the Plague DoctorThe air was wet and heavy and it stuck in her throat; she thought of the smell of rotting gardens and coughed until scarlet blood hung from her lips and stained the moss beneath her cheek. She couldn't groan, couldn't even voice the pain. And her body was too dry for crying. All Andra could do was lay crumpled, her very self fighting her with the sickness that tore through her insides like a lash, the last vestiges of her strength being fed to her twitching limbs for shaking and spasming.More Like This
There were ants crawling over her fingertips. Flies at her mouth, the corners of her eyes. She shifted her head, weakly, desperate to drive them off while she still had life in her, but the creatures were impatient. They swarmed back again. It wouldn't be long, now.
Andra thought of her mother, who wept as she pushed her out the door. Her father, gray and still on the bed and set to be burned. Master Thomas was dead in his home. Father Calton, huddled in his church and praying for mercy. The bells wer
The DoctorThe doctor tutted, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh.More Like This
"Honestly, we have next to nothing to work with these days." He murmured, grasping the girl's chin and pulling it upwards so he could look more clearly into her face. "Brown eyes, brown hair... too commonplace. What I wouldn't give for a honest-to-God natural blonde or a redhead. Everyone's getting sick of all the dyed products we've had to make. Ugh. Well, give this one some blue eyes. Keep the freckles; maybe they'll add something more natural to her."
The young man, eighteen at most, who had brought the girl into the room, nodded. He gently lifted the slender figure off the ground- the girl's head lolling against his shoulder as he did so- and to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her.
"Jude, I have too many appointments today to watch you take your time with this. Drag it if you must, but hurry."
Jude nodded again, keeping his head down so the good Doctor wouldn't see th
The DoctorWhen I was seven, I was diagnosed with emotions.More Like This
"Poor girl." I heard them say. "She'll never survive this one."
I laid with my face towards the ceiling on the cold examination table, listening to them discuss my fate. I felt something breaking in my chest and something burning inside my throat. A small tear slipped down my cheek.
"Doctor! Look at this!" Shrieked my mother, "Something is coming out of her eye."
The doctor rushed over to me and wiped the tear from my cheek. He touched the top of my head as he whispered, "I am so sorry." And then he turned to my mother. "It's a tear. It means that she is sad."
"Sad?" My mother asked inquisitively.
"It's one of her emotions. This doesn't attack the same way that normal diseases do, there are all sorts of different symptoms. Right now, she is sad and the only way that I know how to explain it is that she is feeling down."
"What do you mean by down?"
"Her emotions can best be described as ones that are upwhen she is feeling good, and