“Verschwinde aus meinem Leben”, schrie sie aus vollen Halse, als sie die andere attackierte. “Stirb!”, war ihr nächster Ausruf, als sie die andere mit sich zu Boden riss und begann, auf sie einzutreten, zu -schlagen und zu beißen. Sie zog ihr an den Haaren und versuchte, ihre Augen auszukratzen.
Und immer wieder: “Stirb!”
“Du bist eine Plague! Niemand will dich! Wir hassen dich alle! Stirb!”, hallte es in den Gängen wieder, als sie ihrer Wut freien Lauf ließ. Ihre Stimme überschlug sich, war heiser und doch zugleich kreischend und mit mehr Zorn geladen, als jemand in diesem Gebäude jemand gefühlt hatte.
Und dann begann die andere zu schreien. Aber dieses mal voller Schmerz.
When I try to find words for it
all explanations seem very vague
how can I make others understand
there is no inoculation
and there is no aid
for this condition in my brain
unlike the more widely known plague
There was a plague going around. Killing everybody slowly but surely. My brother was the first to have it, so I know how it works. It’s eats away at you until there’s nothing left but your corpse. I watched my brother turn from a healthy boy to a walking skeleton. Then my sister. I know I’m next. I’m scared. I don’t want to die.
The thoughts that had been plaguing him developed into nightmares, until he awoke one night with her face peering over him. He pulled the blankets over his head in terror and tried not to cry like a child at the sensation of her ghostly hands tugging the quilt back down so she could see his face. He still didn’t know who she was, and he didn’t want to know how she had come to haunt his new room.
The plague filtered through her mind, searching for the things it yearned for to survive. It needed memories of love, happiness and laughter, but that meant taking them from her mind, and trading in the worst memories it had.
It ripped through the streets of Firenze like a wildfire through a field of barley. And so many were lying around, dying, that it seemed the world slowed to turn from the stagnation of rotting corpses, and music was drowned by the sea of chronic coughs.
plague is a horrifying disease caused basically due to a mouse bite and it has claimed millions off lives in the past few decades and has been a major reason for the
He lies in a pool of sweat and vomit and who knows what else. His face is purple and gray and green and slick with tears like mine. I lay my head on his shoulder, not caring if I get infected too. I’d rather die of disease than die of a broken heart, truly the worst way to go.
so ein shit. tut nur weh und ist nervig. Meine Zahnärztin ist nicht sehr nett zu mir, sie hat mir schon 8 (!) Zähne gerisssen -.- Hat seeehr weh getan. Tjaa.. Jzt hab ich eine neue Zahnärztin… :D
Smoke looms over the city and crawls through the streets. Distant screams and cries follow me as I run, his hand in mine, as far as my tired feet will take me. We are sick.
She died that day, her face grey as ash. They didn’t have the money for cremation, so they threw her in with the other grey faces and sang a song in her memory.
The plague swept through the continent, leaving thousands dead and dying. It was a brutal, terrible death, the likes of which even the most hardened of souls would hesitate to wish upon their most hated of enemies. And, among all of those dead, lay her family. Her beautiful, innocent daughter, who had still looked at the world through the eyes of a child. Her son, tall and strong as his father, hovering just on the cusp of true manhood. And him, her husband, the bravest, kindest man she’d ever known. And yet she, she was spared their fate. She was left behind, alone, to try and struggle to live in a world she no longer wished to be a part of.
And she couldn’t help but think that the cruelest fate of all.
The evening was thick and musty . It held attention to itself as a dreary entity welcoming all and and allowing no one to leave excet through the basement door where the screams were coming from
The Esther plague had begun with a woman named Esther. She had been an average fifty-something who had traveled to a country no one had heard of and not even an able-minded scholar would scrawl onto an atlas. It was too small and seemingly too insignificant to be noted by anyone of any notable status. That is, until Esther returned with half of her face turning purple.
It had started with the color, and the pain had been the final symptom. She had transformed into something entirely different in the middle.
It came over me like a plague! I missed my time. How could I have been so stupid. I checked the book several times, but I guess I was over anxious and forgot how to read. I am disappointed. There’s always next year I guess. Even though this year was to be “my year”. Does this mean I missed my calling? Or am I destined to always be a day late and a dollar short. Story of many life.
i have been so so patient with the noises above my head. i was being good.
i ignored the tippling of tiny, clawed feet at night, when my loft bed was mere inches away from their diseased bodies.
i took care not to let my food out in the open or my cat in the kitchen, where there was a tiny hole in the arch above the east window.
it was all for nothing. the rats persisted to stay in my attic, and i persisted to call the pest control.
eat the toxin infused pellets, fuckers.
there was a plague in the 18th century that killed over a million people and one of those people was me. when I died i thought it was over until i woke up in an old castle surrounded by beautiful women, but soon i found they were not women at all but vampires.
there was a plague in the 1600s that caused the death of millions in the city of london, because the black plague caused so many deaths, more than half the population was gone. The very famous ditty pocket full of possies, ashes ashes they all fall down was made because of this plague.
Plague. When I think of this word, I think of that disease that spread a long time ago… where the rats disease killed so many people. All of the bodies were thrown into the streets. GROSS!!! Plague is not a very nice word at all. Plague is awful. I hate plague.
x. Banana
a plague of locusts is currently swarming across madagascar, killing all crops in its path. I don’t know what makes it a plague – is it now a biblical event rather than just a biological infestation?
A sickness of darkness. `darkness of death. `cjildren dying like flies and nobody to love them or nurse them, to save them. `nameless children. `nameless mothers watching their own die in pain.
it hit the world like war -people’s nations pregnant with sickness. Sickness of the mind, no one could shelter themselves. The infection grew, adapting itself with each corner it met.
It spreads rapidly. The flesh esting and life destroying blackness
Why my family why me
This suffering is worse than death, this pain this anxiety
The plague of doubts
The plague tore through the town, devouring our spirits, our minds, and our families. Creating beasts that ate one another, the plague swept through us humans like we were nothing, creating thousands upon thousands of monsters. Until we were the only ones left.
The masked man traveled from house to house. Each building had been sealed up. Only he was allowed to enter. His long beak cast a baleful shadow. Children cried when he came. Perhaps from fright, or perhaps from the pain of their illness, the inevitability of their ends.
sickness, death and destruction ways to make your heart stop, tremble and resemble death. Ways to make your heart sink blood stink loved ones lost unkissed forvever.
Writer’s are dominated by the power of mind, you could say. Oneword, you ask me to not think, just write, well isn’t that kind of impossible? To just write, you have to know language, and to know language, you must use your mind. If you did not think, you cannot write. Simple. For example, this is called a stream of consciousness, where one allows the fingers to move as fast as the mind. It is not just my fingers doing the work. So… yes. sorry this is not plague. Though I do think of the bubonic plague or black plague when given such a word.
upon my house.
infesting everything around me.
digging in.
ripping apart.
changing me.
turning me into something that i am not.
bad decisions.
emptying.
Fear is like a plague. You don’t see it coming but when it hits you, it devastates you. You don’t know how to get rid of it. You feel helpless, sick, and unsure of what to do. But one must conquer that fear or else the plague will persist. Only one thing will cure my fear, my worry. But its 500 miles away.
The streets were covered in a film of dirt and damp, like slugs had been the ones to set the cobblestones in place. I remember the closed doors at the docks, and the sailors stopped winking at my hiked up skirt, and I stopped eating when the plague came to town.
The world is ending. The Plague is upon us.
Or is it a Blessing? Do we deserve this? After everything: every sin, every wrong, every single damaging act?
How can we right these wrongs?
“Verschwinde aus meinem Leben”, schrie sie aus vollen Halse, als sie die andere attackierte. “Stirb!”, war ihr nächster Ausruf, als sie die andere mit sich zu Boden riss und begann, auf sie einzutreten, zu -schlagen und zu beißen. Sie zog ihr an den Haaren und versuchte, ihre Augen auszukratzen.
Und immer wieder: “Stirb!”
“Du bist eine Plague! Niemand will dich! Wir hassen dich alle! Stirb!”, hallte es in den Gängen wieder, als sie ihrer Wut freien Lauf ließ. Ihre Stimme überschlug sich, war heiser und doch zugleich kreischend und mit mehr Zorn geladen, als jemand in diesem Gebäude jemand gefühlt hatte.
Und dann begann die andere zu schreien. Aber dieses mal voller Schmerz.
When I try to find words for it
all explanations seem very vague
how can I make others understand
there is no inoculation
and there is no aid
for this condition in my brain
unlike the more widely known plague
sick die dying outbreak, failing people, biblical epic catastrophic horrible end, fin
There was a plague going around. Killing everybody slowly but surely. My brother was the first to have it, so I know how it works. It’s eats away at you until there’s nothing left but your corpse. I watched my brother turn from a healthy boy to a walking skeleton. Then my sister. I know I’m next. I’m scared. I don’t want to die.
venereal.
he’s bleeding out in a cottage in some dark jungle, somewhere out near the coast but far enough inland to prevent a real doctor from getting there.
benjamin called but he doesn’t know what’s eating him.
The thoughts that had been plaguing him developed into nightmares, until he awoke one night with her face peering over him. He pulled the blankets over his head in terror and tried not to cry like a child at the sensation of her ghostly hands tugging the quilt back down so she could see his face. He still didn’t know who she was, and he didn’t want to know how she had come to haunt his new room.
l’umanità.
are there worst plague in the world?
The plague filtered through her mind, searching for the things it yearned for to survive. It needed memories of love, happiness and laughter, but that meant taking them from her mind, and trading in the worst memories it had.
It ripped through the streets of Firenze like a wildfire through a field of barley. And so many were lying around, dying, that it seemed the world slowed to turn from the stagnation of rotting corpses, and music was drowned by the sea of chronic coughs.
plague is a horrifying disease caused basically due to a mouse bite and it has claimed millions off lives in the past few decades and has been a major reason for the
He lies in a pool of sweat and vomit and who knows what else. His face is purple and gray and green and slick with tears like mine. I lay my head on his shoulder, not caring if I get infected too. I’d rather die of disease than die of a broken heart, truly the worst way to go.
so ein shit. tut nur weh und ist nervig. Meine Zahnärztin ist nicht sehr nett zu mir, sie hat mir schon 8 (!) Zähne gerisssen -.- Hat seeehr weh getan. Tjaa.. Jzt hab ich eine neue Zahnärztin… :D
Smoke looms over the city and crawls through the streets. Distant screams and cries follow me as I run, his hand in mine, as far as my tired feet will take me. We are sick.
it’s a cold hard world we live in, when a word that can strike fear into the hearts of even the toughest man can slowly fade into nothing.
She died that day, her face grey as ash. They didn’t have the money for cremation, so they threw her in with the other grey faces and sang a song in her memory.
The plague swept through the continent, leaving thousands dead and dying. It was a brutal, terrible death, the likes of which even the most hardened of souls would hesitate to wish upon their most hated of enemies. And, among all of those dead, lay her family. Her beautiful, innocent daughter, who had still looked at the world through the eyes of a child. Her son, tall and strong as his father, hovering just on the cusp of true manhood. And him, her husband, the bravest, kindest man she’d ever known. And yet she, she was spared their fate. She was left behind, alone, to try and struggle to live in a world she no longer wished to be a part of.
And she couldn’t help but think that the cruelest fate of all.
The evening was thick and musty . It held attention to itself as a dreary entity welcoming all and and allowing no one to leave excet through the basement door where the screams were coming from
The Esther plague had begun with a woman named Esther. She had been an average fifty-something who had traveled to a country no one had heard of and not even an able-minded scholar would scrawl onto an atlas. It was too small and seemingly too insignificant to be noted by anyone of any notable status. That is, until Esther returned with half of her face turning purple.
It had started with the color, and the pain had been the final symptom. She had transformed into something entirely different in the middle.
It came over me like a plague! I missed my time. How could I have been so stupid. I checked the book several times, but I guess I was over anxious and forgot how to read. I am disappointed. There’s always next year I guess. Even though this year was to be “my year”. Does this mean I missed my calling? Or am I destined to always be a day late and a dollar short. Story of many life.
i have been so so patient with the noises above my head. i was being good.
i ignored the tippling of tiny, clawed feet at night, when my loft bed was mere inches away from their diseased bodies.
i took care not to let my food out in the open or my cat in the kitchen, where there was a tiny hole in the arch above the east window.
it was all for nothing. the rats persisted to stay in my attic, and i persisted to call the pest control.
eat the toxin infused pellets, fuckers.
there was a plague in the 18th century that killed over a million people and one of those people was me. when I died i thought it was over until i woke up in an old castle surrounded by beautiful women, but soon i found they were not women at all but vampires.
there was a plague in the 1600s that caused the death of millions in the city of london, because the black plague caused so many deaths, more than half the population was gone. The very famous ditty pocket full of possies, ashes ashes they all fall down was made because of this plague.
Plague. When I think of this word, I think of that disease that spread a long time ago… where the rats disease killed so many people. All of the bodies were thrown into the streets. GROSS!!! Plague is not a very nice word at all. Plague is awful. I hate plague.
x. Banana
The last thing I saw
Was the back of my eyelids
as I said goodbye
a plague of locusts is currently swarming across madagascar, killing all crops in its path. I don’t know what makes it a plague – is it now a biblical event rather than just a biological infestation?
I saw the plague out in front of me. Black like the night. And something to be feared. I ran with all my might to get away.
A sickness of darkness. `darkness of death. `cjildren dying like flies and nobody to love them or nurse them, to save them. `nameless children. `nameless mothers watching their own die in pain.
it covers your body, your soul
then soon your eyes bleed
your breathe is shortened
your life is measured by the meer amount of blinks you can muster
love is not a struggle…….its a plague
it hit the world like war -people’s nations pregnant with sickness. Sickness of the mind, no one could shelter themselves. The infection grew, adapting itself with each corner it met.
It spreads rapidly. The flesh esting and life destroying blackness
Why my family why me
This suffering is worse than death, this pain this anxiety
The plague of doubts
The plague tore through the town, devouring our spirits, our minds, and our families. Creating beasts that ate one another, the plague swept through us humans like we were nothing, creating thousands upon thousands of monsters. Until we were the only ones left.
She was plagued with her pain,
Reverberating through her soul.
Every breath was a broken gasp,
Every step, seemingly on glass.
The masked man traveled from house to house. Each building had been sealed up. Only he was allowed to enter. His long beak cast a baleful shadow. Children cried when he came. Perhaps from fright, or perhaps from the pain of their illness, the inevitability of their ends.
sickness, death and destruction ways to make your heart stop, tremble and resemble death. Ways to make your heart sink blood stink loved ones lost unkissed forvever.
Writer’s are dominated by the power of mind, you could say. Oneword, you ask me to not think, just write, well isn’t that kind of impossible? To just write, you have to know language, and to know language, you must use your mind. If you did not think, you cannot write. Simple. For example, this is called a stream of consciousness, where one allows the fingers to move as fast as the mind. It is not just my fingers doing the work. So… yes. sorry this is not plague. Though I do think of the bubonic plague or black plague when given such a word.
upon my house.
infesting everything around me.
digging in.
ripping apart.
changing me.
turning me into something that i am not.
bad decisions.
emptying.
Fear is like a plague. You don’t see it coming but when it hits you, it devastates you. You don’t know how to get rid of it. You feel helpless, sick, and unsure of what to do. But one must conquer that fear or else the plague will persist. Only one thing will cure my fear, my worry. But its 500 miles away.
I love you <3
it’s pretty sick.
The streets were covered in a film of dirt and damp, like slugs had been the ones to set the cobblestones in place. I remember the closed doors at the docks, and the sailors stopped winking at my hiked up skirt, and I stopped eating when the plague came to town.
The world is ending. The Plague is upon us.
Or is it a Blessing? Do we deserve this? After everything: every sin, every wrong, every single damaging act?
How can we right these wrongs?