A nearby, overturned rusty wagon wheel creaked as turbulent winds swept through what resembled an abandoned and lifeless town that had surrendered to the monstrous plague.  The town was only a mere shadow of a once bustling and lively place created by the refreshing scents of the bakery and the sounds of laughter that once rang through caverns.  Merciless winds slapped unbearably terrible odors of rotting flesh into my ghostly face as I battled against the crushing blows of the wind.  My frighteningly feeble body toiled to push a wagon half-full of stale bread pieces no larger than a fist.  The wagon thumped over every crack against the cobblestone street and bounced echoes through a town engulfed by a disease that had spread rapidly like wildfire, burning everything insight.  I warily explored the chaotic scene of crooked doors and shattered furniture left by fleeing people devoured by fear of the devastating plague.  However the ones who decided to stay were slaughtered by the plague like animals on a farm.  Almost every wooden and cracked door bore a red cross to ward visitors that the family had fallen victim to the Black Death.

Ragged ropes tied to windows on the upper floors wretchedly clung to rusty baskets flailing in the monstrous winds.  Each window and open door screamed darkness louder than the hourly church bells that could once be heard from the edge of town.  The ground dragged my heart closer to the ground as more houses continued to show no sign of life, even the bodies of victims were cleared out by death cart laborers.

I rounded a corner only to come face to face with a plunderer.  I realized he was a man who once enjoyed nobility when I noticed his torn, faded silk rags.  He had just limped out of a door about twenty yards away from where I stood.  Dangling from his right shoulder was a ragged and patched brown sack filled with treasures he had stolen from the house.  He was a fairly burly man for someone living in a time of despair.   Turning his shaved, mud-covered head in my direction, his mischievous eyes met my petrified face.  At the sight of fresh meat, his eyes seemed to light up like when a dog hears the sound of his owner.  He made no effort to suppress a crooked smile as he stared at my wagon half-full of bread.  His right hand absentmindedly dropped the sack as it menacingly grasped the hilt of a contorted knife.  Time seemed to hold its breath as the bandit and I studied each other.  He contentedly inhaled through his nose, as if he could smell my fear from where he stood.  Then in a split second he was a guard dog, swiftly closing in on its prey for the kill.  I scrambled to find something to protect myself and snatched the lid of a barrel just in time to block a knife viciously aiming for my head.  The knife landed on the wooden lid and the silver tip broke through to the other side, only inches from my forehead.  The force of my foe’s strike hammered me to the ground as his body followed its target.  I desperately heaved the lid to the side, only to come close enough to my attacker’s face and smell his murderous breath that reeked of stale whiskey.  The stench seemed to suffocate my nose and mouth.  Up close I could see that he was missing a few teeth and the ones that remained were stained yellow and askew.  As my eyes began to water, I summoned all of my strength to knock him to the side with my fist.  As he stumbled to the side, his foot met a wooden basket and threw his back to the stone cold ground.  I took my few precious seconds to yank the knife out of the barrel lid.  My hand quaked uncontrollably with fear like a chandelier in the middle of an earthquake.  The bald man slowly heaved himself up and growled at the man who caused him immense pain.  He smelled strongly of rage that all other smells were blocked off by his need of revenge.  With one final effort, the criminal ran at full tilt towards me.  Instinctively my hands moved with an upward motion as the man was almost on top of me.  I had cowardly turned my head away but I did not need to wait long to know that the knife had hit home.  As I rotated my head back to face the lifeless bandit, my knees buckled and dragged the man with me to the ground.  I reluctantly let go of the damp hilt and half-heartedly walked back to the wagon.  The wagon moaned as I lifted it off the ground and continued onward.  All I could think about was the poor man corrupted by the plague.