One word hung in the tense, infected air as two brothers clung desperately to each other in fear;
"Morte"
Two simple syllables that held more weight then the feeble tongue could ever portray. It whispered through the brothers' ears and ghosted over their gaunt forms, their grips on each other tightening.
"Morte"
On the wings of an epidemic this word flew. Carried on the backs of rodents came the coughing, the wheezing, the pustule welts that left the body leopard printed. The boys felt their lungs giving way and their bodies scaring, forever to be marred.
"Morte"
Beaked masks; emotionless yet emotions wrought. Pain and the scent of burnt sage wafted behind callous glass eyes. Clinging brothers could taste the bitter hints of decay that hung off of black leather; rudely but rightfully invading their nostrils and rubbing against the back of their tongues.
"Morte"
Prayers murmured by the ill; hymns sung by the believers in Divine Justice. A beaded Rosary held in the painful grasp of white knuckles. Faith was all that was feasibly left to the perishing.
"Morte"
The loss of Faith by those burned and those woefully, patiently waiting their turn. The wiser brother dealing with the Lord to ease the suffering of his tender sibling. God cursed and cursers smited; nothing could be done.
"Morte"
Fire, burnt flesh, ash of bone. An island of bodies, looming, ominous, never spoken of but feared by all. The whisper of its name hung languidly from the younger boy's lips.
"Poveglia"
"Morte"
Chasms brimming with twisted limbs, limbs beautifully riddled with the petals of roses. Eyes, glassy and clouded, stared wistfully into the inclement sky above as dirt sodden with tears slowly tried to inter the despair in the Earth. Stolid eyes left only to muse on how many more were to join them under the rule of the worms, and how many would be left to live.
"Morte"
How cursory the burials were, but the few doctors and priests were needed elsewhere. Brothers stood over the mass graves, feeling the agony of each of their peoples' deaths like the loss of a part of their souls.
"Morte"
Dour breezes broke the fortitude of those unfortunate enough to still breathe. Turbulent gales tore through the crumbling brothers. Every intimation of their future said bluntly one word;
"Morte"
Two syllables dreaded but welcomed warmly on the lips of the suffering.
"Morte"