HOME | DD

Description
Sneak Peek of Last of the Plague Doctors
Historical Fiction
Inspired By Tim Burton's Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Written by: Shelby "Dusty" Drake

Chapter One, Book One: Maple

The Black Death was truly an epidemic. History tells us that it was caused by rats and other vermin dying at street corners, spreading their bloodthirsty fleas to feast upon human flesh. Unfortunately, there are many times history will lie to us. The Bubonic Plague, more commonly the Black Death, happens to be one of the things history has made a fable, or falsie.

As time went on, plague doctors continued dying out before their patients. Was it because the disease had gotten to them? Or perhaps the fact they were purposely inflicted with the sickness, by another person? A large majority of the doctors were too ill to tend to their work. Once all were thought to have died out, there was one who stood up for the patients, and instead of a stick and strange concoctions of blood, goat urine, boils, lizards and toads that had been dried and powdered; this specific plague doctor carried a revolver and a dagger, which remained jogging around in the brown satchel she wore.

Her long, dark robes would billow as her dark silhouette slithered from street corner to street corner, prodding at patients and assuring them she could do no more for them. She hid her beautiful, fair complection beneath her mask, which was relative to a crow's face that'd been bleached for hours. In her deep pockets, she carried posies, which she would hand to patients when they were close to death.

Only she knew the true culprit behind the sickness that the cramped streets of London had been plagued with, and it wasn't the fleas. Though, the scourge that caused it was practically a blood-sucking parasite.

Description
Sneak Peek of Last of the Plague Doctors
Historical Fiction
Inspired By Tim Burton's Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter
Written by: Shelby "Dusty" Drake

Chapter One, Book One: Maple

The Black Death was truly an epidemic. History tells us that it was caused by rats and other vermin dying at street corners, spreading their bloodthirsty fleas to feast upon human flesh. Unfortunately, there are many times history will lie to us. The Bubonic Plague, more commonly the Black Death, happens to be one of the things history has made a fable, or falsie.

As time went on, plague doctors continued dying out before their patients. Was it because the disease had gotten to them? Or perhaps the fact they were purposely inflicted with the sickness, by another person? A large majority of the doctors were too ill to tend to their work. Once all were thought to have died out, there was one who stood up for the patients, and instead of a stick and strange concoctions of blood, goat urine, boils, lizards and toads that had been dried and powdered; this specific plague doctor carried a revolver and a dagger, which remained jogging around in the brown satchel she wore.

Her long, dark robes would billow as her dark silhouette slithered from street corner to street corner, prodding at patients and assuring them she could do no more for them. She hid her beautiful, fair complection beneath her mask, which was relative to a crow's face that'd been bleached for hours. In her deep pockets, she carried posies, which she would hand to patients when they were close to death.

Only she knew the true culprit behind the sickness that the cramped streets of London had been plagued with, and it wasn't the fleas. Though, the scourge that caused it was practically a blood-sucking parasite.