It was a cold November night, and
coughs echoed down the streets of Coniston. Parents stumbled out of
bed and flicked on the bathroom light, only to stare in horror at their
reflections. Large boils marred their faces, with pustules erupting, staining
the skin blue underneath. Children shivered with fever and moved in their beds
restlessly, silently crying tears of blood as the itchy blue spot started
spreading across their bodies.
The next morning, the town was in
hysterics as the symptoms spread and worsened. The mayor feebly made his way
outside supported by his son. He spoke gentle, soothing words to console the
crowds, but he could feel deep within that he was already too late.
The local clinic was filled with
pleading mothers and demanding fathers until the doctor fell ill. Coughs were
replaced by weeping that night as adolescents sat by their family, tending to
them, and watched them slowly transform into nothing more than bloated, blue
corpses.
By the end of the week, everything
was quiet. Inside of the Lafite house, the mayor took his son’s hand and placed
an antique pocket watch inside. “It is your responsibility now Gavriel, do you
understand?” he breathed into his son’s ear. It wasn’t until Gavriel nodded
that the mayor finally let go of his hand and closed his eyes.
It was almost midday by the time
all of the corpses had been gathered and placed in the middle of the forest.
Gavriel stood by the newly made pyre, his back straight and his head bowed
slightly. He remembered the last promise he made to his father, the last words
they ever exchanged, and clutched the pocket watch he inherited a few decades
too soon. He glanced up at the survivors, at the young, haunted faces, and felt
the responsibility weigh heavily on him.
Meri sat on her roof and watched
the smoke trail from the forest into the sky. She didn’t go to pyre that
morning, and she knew that if she had, the judgmental eyes of the survivors
would follow her every move. Instead, she sat in vigil alone, imagining that
the crisp breeze was carrying her mother away, back to their old home in the
city. She observed as the smoke started to die down until it was merely a weak
wisp.
“So this is how our normal life
ends,” she said to no one in particular. “Starting with a bang and ending with
a whimper.”
