Short Story: Victims of Pestilence 2: 2020

Short Story: Victims of Pestilence 2: 2020

England, 2020

To all who read,

Such a frightening year. Yet, we chase the money. We cannot outrun our own selfishness. We will fall from this ruined Eden all over again. A fall because we refused to join hands with those that are not like us. No faith. No colour. No culture. The world is not as black and white as we originally assumed. We cannot be blocked into bad and good. There is an entire colour spectrum. Just look at an eyeshadow palette for proof. We are the dirt Pestilence wants to clean. Till there is nothing but a black and white slate. Ready to start anew. Ready for the following species to make the same mistakes.

A plethora of scholars and carers have been drafted to organise and look after the future. This beast will not be the end of us. Our scholars and healthcare providers will push us into a new era. One guided by kinship and a pearl of glorious wisdom called common sense. These intellects can strategise better than any monarchy or minister. These intellects are forced to hold our hands and mould our minds. They are succeeding even when Pestilence puts walls of concrete between them and the children. A success while we are locked away in boxes and cheering for them through slips of glass. Is the prevention of the once deadly influenza not proof? Our scholars and healthcare workers are succeeding even when our commanders and laws are failing. Failing again, and again and again. Is that an unfair statement? One thing these lawmakers have achieved is racking up the depts. A fact that is true regardless of which area of the earth you inhabit.

Debt to who?

I know governments can have debts but to who? And how? Where is our tax going?

Meals for childr- nope, not that.

NHS and their servi- I am unsure.

Educa – don’t think so.

Road wor – doesn’t look like it.

But remember that the efforts of our saviours will be flushed down the toilet with all your waste if you do not step up. Step up or their efforts will be worth nothing but a pile of corpses and broken souls with broken vessels.

Hide away from Rona.

It is not cowardly to hide.

Be smart and think.

Pestilence wants you to value your pride over your compassion for humanity. Pestilence relies on this hubris, and it has survived off it for centuries. Our pride has been its only source of nourishment since the beginning of our time. Let us cut off its food source.

Our warriors have been here all along, like a wallflower. These protectors are the epitome of humanity. They are most definitely some variations of an angel. They are the hope and our salvation.

The trouble the beast of Pestilence has with us mere mortals is that the rest of humanity is gluttonous. Gluttonous when it comes to soldiers. Every soldier is a champion and combat-ready. Our frontline uniforms adorn the calm tones of different blues and white. Many shades of blues floating around equipped and ready to shower the earth with their compassion and strength. Like a cloud. The white region, where each blue cloud floats, becoming our sky. One below Pestilence. With this white shield, Pestilence can never land and ground itself.

Pestilence will swipe, strike, and try to smash its way through the earth.

Pestilence will beat its wings a billion times harder than any butterfly.

Pestilence will breathe flames that can be felt even in heaven and hell.

Yet, these white barricades and blue clouds will work as a buffer. Creating a suit of armour around the world. One that will not plan for the extinction of mankind. Despite the world literally being on their shoulders, these nurses, doctors, aid workers, surgeons, registrars, carers, healthcare assistants and housekeepers, continue to fulfil their duty. The weight of the world is holding them up as they stand on the edge of a sword. Frightened. Pestilence is throwing curses at them. Continuously. Promising to take their life. Pestilence has sworn to cut the strings of life attached to their loved ones. It cares not for the sacrifice they are making. Pestilence has vowed to leave them crippled in so many ways – body, mind, finance. The gallant and God-sent miracles have created their own promise. They throw up a finger at the beast and stare it straight in the eye. Unrelenting in their fight and dedication for us. Even protecting those who defund and understaff them. The cult of Asclepius is as powerful and unprejudiced as Pestilence. Yet, their strength is unmatched. A source that is invisible and unknowing drives them to work, every-freaking-morning.

I see you all preparing. Brooms have been sharpened into arrows, ready to rip into the flesh of a creature deadlier than Smaug. Each archer is hidden in plain sight, inside buildings and between rooms. Always staking out the beast that hovers above. The beast wreaks havoc with its fiery breath. All we can do is hide behind these brave souls.

From broom wielders to scholars, to porters and medical aids, they have created this galaxy of hope and salvation. With different balls of gas creating a light in the darkness. Paving a way back to normalcy. Humanity will be saved from Pestilence with these soldiers united in battle.

How do I know?

Remember when our soul and vessel broke?

A part of the soul and vessel made its way to 2021. Not all of it, but just enough.

I think those who were fortunate managed to throw a part of themselves to 2021.

Can you see Pestilence lose its smug lips? Eyes no longer hooded in contentment but wide and fearful of its inevitable extinction. Pestilence is almost at the end of its tyrannical reign with blunted claws and a clogged-up throat. Why, dear reader, do we not listen to Pestilence and the dangers our history warned us of?

Anti-Pestilence motion:

We will wear our helmets – face mask, face shield – do not leave yourself naked.

We will use our powerful potions – sanitiser, wipes – basic hygiene.

We will declutter our minds – your mind needs attention, just like your body.

We will survive this.

Yours Faithfully,

Timeless Queen

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