We all fall down

“Ring around the rosey1

Pocket full of posey2

Ashes, ashes,3

We all fall down.”4

The world around us just came crashing down at our feet. It was times like this that a young girl’s sample became her burial shroud. I didn’t want to think about it—but with the smell of rot and smoke, I had no choice.5

“You know what signs to look for,” Dr. Cutter said, “There’s no known cure. Keep your faces covered, and pray for your children.”  I saw my mother turn white as the town physician turned away from the crowd in the 6

Town Square7

. I saw the vacant look in my father’s eyes as he gazed at the blaze we surrounded. Many of us had brought loved ones to this fire, but we weren’t celebrating a festival. 8

“I heard Baker Smith’s wife has it, she’s been carrying flowers in her pockets for a week now.” Doris, the town gossip whispered to my sister and me. “I keep cloth over my mouth when I sleep,” She went on, in a hushed whisper, through wildflowers that sweetened her breath. “Flowers keep more than just the smell away, dears,” her twin sister, Mary, nodded to us, “you girls would do well to get out of this town and find a nice field to pick some of your own…before its too late.”9

The crowd of widows and childless mothers began to slowly walk away from the burning pyer; one could see the exhaustion and emotional toll it had taken on them with each of these gatherings.  The town had never been as dark as it was now. There was no one to light the street lanterns at sundown. There was no one to make candles, and every day there were fewer and fewer people to buy them. Our prosperous city had been reduced to nothing but ash and sorrow in a matter of weeks. 10

The sun was setting when Sarah, my younger sister tugged on the hem of my dress and pointed to our garden on the east side of our house. “Tessa, we have flowers there, maybe we should pick some like the old lady said.” She took her thumb from her mouth long enough to speak to me. “Maybe later Sarah, we have no need to keep the smell away now, let them grow a bit longer.” I didn’t look at her, I couldn’t. No one in our family had suffered the curse that fell upon our city, but I knew that couldn’t last long.11

“Come in, girls, the devil strikes his blows at night, come in out of the dark.” My mother’s voice wavered; I’ve never seen her look so tired. My father sat down at the table he had built for my mother for their wedding. I wanted to speak to him, but my mother ushered my sister and I to our bedroom. 12

I sat in the corner in a chair with a candle on the table beside me, its flame was tiny, but it was enough for me to see my stitching. I was nearly done with my sample. Soon it would be finished, and I could marry—if there was anyone left to marry. My numbers and letters stood out beautifully against the thin, white cloth and the border of red and yellow roses was almost complete. My sister watched me from the bed, still sucking her thumb. “Tessa,” she spoke in a quiet voice, “I need to show you something.”  Sitting up slowly she lifted her nightdress so I could see her stomach. 13

My needlework stopped and I stabbed myself in the finger when I looked at what my sister had revealed to me. The tiny sore was fresh, the ring around it a bright pink rash that foretold what was to come. It was tiny, and already it smelled of rot and death, just like the rest of the city. “Am I going to die?” She asked me, and I shook my head hard to keep from crying. “No, Sarah, you’re going to be just fine,” I whispered, pulling Sarah’s nightdress back down. I kissed her forehead, “What do you say about posies? They’ll go lovely with your lavender dress mother made for your birthday. I could braid them into your hair tomorrow, would you like that?” I asked, putting on a mask of my own.14

“Ring around the rosey15

Pocket full of posey16

Ashes, ashes,17

We all fall down.”18