The Plagued Woman
who wanted a miracle.
Thirty-eight….thirty-nine…forty.
The warm glow of a candle was the only light source in the room. Night had come and wrapped the world in its shadows. As the candle’s flames flickered, the darkness danced across the walls of a bedroom. The huddled form of a woman sat before her full-length mirror as she slowly brushed her long gleaming locks.
There once was a time when this feeble mistress was beautiful and strong. She used to brush her hair two hundred times. Now she couldn’t even make it to fifty. There had never been a time that she sat at the mirror fighting to stay up right struggling to run her silver brush through her hair. Before the sickness sat in her bones she stood tall and proud. No one could extinguish the flame that burned within her soul. Every morning and every night she’d stand before the mirror and admire the form the woman that looked back.
But now all that met her gaze was a bruised and peppered with sores monster. How could this have happened? How could she have fallen this far?
She stifled a moan as her feeble hand tried to set the brush on the closest nightstand only to have it tumble with a clatter onto the ground. Her body hurt. She was struggling to move. Fighting to breathe. Yet even as the flesh began to spoil her mind, oh her beautiful and wondrous mind, was still ticking.
Ever so slowly and fighting her screaming limbs the noblewoman stood up. For a moment it was too much for her plague-ridden body and she stumbled forward on weak legs. Luckily her blackened hands found purchase on the mirror’s golden carved edges.
“Come now…” She hissed at the being that stared painfully up at her. “Pull yourself together. You are not done. You cannot quit.” That voice! It snarled from her chapped and bloodied lips sounded beastly. She was desperate to live. The animal inside of her wanted to keep fighting even as the body failed.
Quivering fingers reached out to the nightstand and picked up a glimmering object. Boiling with defiance the woman straightened and stared at her reflection. Hidden under the bleeding boils and black with sickness skin was hope. Hope that this illness could be cured. Hope that her miracle was near. She had to believe that there was a miracle just waiting to be found. She believed! She had faith!
Pale eyes tore themselves away from the mirror and looked to the window. There. The silhouette of familiar woods could be seen from her bedroom. Memories of a childhood well spent playing in the forest comforted her in these dark times. Her cracked lips pulled as she smiled remembering the games she and her friends played amongst the greens. Goodness she had her first kiss from a local farm worker in the shade of the wood’s tallest oak. The kiss they had shared was shy and quick but a cherished memory nevertheless.
A miracle that would save her from death had to be in those enchanted woods. The spirits would save her. Her old friend, nature itself, would shield her from this terrible plague. She just had to make it there.
“I can do it.”
Trembling hands brought the little hairpin close to her chest. It rested against her heart feeling the beat of life. She looked at the beautiful piece of jewelry and ran her fingers over the intricate golden designs. A beloved uncle had given it to her years ago. Maybe it was because she was too young, but she never thanked him fully for it. Never told him how much the beautiful hairpin meant to her. What a shame.
The noblewoman grumbled as she saw the streaks of blood that decorated the pin’s fine metal. Such a pity it had gotten dirty. She certainly couldn’t leave without this but it couldn’t be covered in blood. With weak but determined hands she rubbed the pin against her sleeve. It may not have been as polished as usual but the blood was gone.
Carefully she raised her aching arms and tucked the pin against warm auburn tresses. The lady winced as the pin pricked her scalp and she quickly fixed the jewelry so it was no longer digging into her skin.
With a deep breath she took a step back and looked at herself. A beautiful dress was draped over her sickly skinny form. The ruffles, lace, and layers of cloth hid how weak she had become. Her beautifully long hair was left down and wild with the little hairpin tucked on the side of her head. If her hands weren’t so damaged she would of put her beautiful white gloves on but because they bled she’d kept them off. It would have been horrible of her to ruin such a lovely silk. She’d wear them when she was well again. It was just a few hours now.
Daybreak would come soon and with it a brand new day. The sun brought renewal and its warmth gave hope to all in its path.
She would feel its rays this coming morning. For as the sun touched the earth she will have been cleansed with the miracle.
Step by determined step the woman left her expansive home and ventured into the dark. She looked like a lost soul venturing across the farmer’s field. With each step she was leaving behind her past and heading towards a bright future. Her old friend the woods was calling to her with promises that the pain would be over soon.
The forest looked beautiful tonight. The stars dappled the sky and the moon shone brightly across the land. It looked magical.
But even the midnight beauty could not shield the young woman. The ugly truth: it was so cold, the wind was whipping, and her body was failing. She possessed a great deal of hope and determination but the disease was winning. It had taken weeks but its cold spindly hands had finally wrapped around her neck.
She had spent all her energy getting to this point and now her once faithful body was crumbling like weathered stone. Suddenly she was choking on the icy wind. Her chest was burning. Blood was erupting from her pained mouth. The once strong legs that had gotten her this far were no longer moving.
Like a leaf she blew to the ground. Her eyes burned with tears as she watched the woods disappear from view. She had been so close. She could still hear her old friend beckoning her, promising that the miracle was near. But her body would no longer move.
When the villagers found her body it was amongst mud and weeds. Her hands were dirty with earth. It looked like she had tried to crawl on her belly to reach the woods but after a few feet the woman couldn’t continue. Her pale glassy eyes were wide and staring upwards.
She died waiting to see the sun. Died with faith and hope that she’d be bathed in the warm glow of daylight, to be renewed with hope and life, but instead…in her final moments…she only saw the cold silver moon.
