Letter/poem of death

Essay by vampire-chick October 2004

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Dear Sara,

How have you been. Life here on the farm is the same, nothing changes. Everything is the same since you left not much has changed.

Many die, and we all cry. We pray for those who are sick, we pray for the dead.

We go to Mass early on Sunday morning. Father think it's a waste, yet he does not want the villagers to speak ill of him.

Mother is the same, she prays day and night for Thomas. The priest says there is no hope. Yet mother still prays, we do not know what is wrong with my little brother. I fear the end is coming to take him soon.

The end seems close, last night a witch was burned at the stake, and this morning the Wickers son Peter was taken away, he has the plague. What a shame, every one seems to be dieing slowly.

Father is also sick, this morning we called the village doctor. He says it shall pass as the days go by. Mother gets thinner each day from worry.

Mary is doing well, she has a new child now, a boy, they have named him John, after his father. She comes and visits us now and then. Mother is always happy to see her, and father is glad that he is a grandfather now. I do not know how I am, I feel disconnected from the world, I feel as I were in a dream.

I do not wish to leave my family. I fear I will have to, and that a suitor will come and take me, I want to get married, yet I do not wish to leave the way you did. I'm sorry Sara but I had to say it, I cry every day, I fear that...