Journal of Duncan MacLeod
Segment I
15 March, 1352
And so it is started. Only an entry from the thousand others of my journal, but a completely new entry in my life, the first entry of my new life. Almost a decade have passed since the greatest known disaster of our history. It started as an infection in the borders of Europe, but it spread faster and faster, soon it swept across the whole continent, destroying half of the humanity. I know how terrible it was. I was there, and lost what was the most precious in my life: my beautiful wife, who gave birth to all my six children, and carried one under her breast. I lost them, I lost them all. I wanted to die myself too; I had nothing left in the mortal life. The Black Death has taken it all.
Since I had no relatives, I had nowhere to go, to purge our village, my remaining friends and I had to burn everything to the ground, the only belonging I could save of mine was this journal. This journal keeps everything, which remained of my life. But what is it? Nothing. No more than words and memories. And reading through the pages just makes me miss them more. Why have I kept it? I don't know, I can't answer this question. It's been a long time since I wrote anything on these tattered pages and writing now just makes me even more. I can't force myself to finish this sentence, and luckily, I don't have the time for it. It is morning and the rest of our party has just woken up, after the breakfast, we packed the mules and leaft the camp, towards the mountains.
For the Rest of the Story check out the Worddoc in the Zipfile.
Credits
Story: Adam_the_first
Map/Html: Desteff2222