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Our second place Middle School category winner was written by Chantal Saraswati MacDougall, an eighth grade student attending the Alachua Learning Center in Florida. |
"Murder. Hatred. Agony. Despair. Love.
"All these things are things we create ourselves, or are pushed upon us by others. We are all born just to die. Well, all us "humans" that is. We "humans" always tell lies to make are previous lies more believable.
"But what I tell you now is no lie, it is a true tale, a true tale of pain and suffering. The story I will pass on to you as it was passed on to me by my father and passed on to him by his father and so forth. This tale was named by my great-great grand father who was the son of the man who had to endure it. And he called it, NOMOKO.
"My father said "NOMOKO" meant 'true love has no love at all,' and he also said that it meant 'pain is love's reality'." My father said that whichever one it was, or if it was not ether of them at all, that was the true "meaning, the knowledge of it was lost in the waves of time.
"10.19.1843, 2:12 am.
"That was the date when a scream of horror and agony, erupted out of the Kemara Mansion, to awaken the small village on which the mansion sat on the edge of. This village's name was Sorrows End. It was called that because most people who lived there never faced sorrow. But the few who did suffered so severely that most of them killed themselves and all in their family. They would kill their family because if they did not they would end up living just to watch their family suffering a slow excruciating death. They called this torture the plague. That is because every time someone touched the body of one who suffered the plague, it would go to that person and their family.
"But one day a young woman appeared out of nowhere bearing very severe wounds. Yes, that woman became my great-great grand mother. And from that day onward the plague has always been in my family. They call us the saviors of their town and we were always honored by them, for we alone suffered for sake of our village. I am the last descendent of my family, and I tell you this story now, as I lay here on my death bed.; the plague will not die with me, so village I tell you now, so that you can remember and continue to honor my family. I tell you the story of my great, great grandfather."
The 16 year old girl whispered a few words of the story before death struck her. Her words were so quiet the three people surrounding her could not hear clearly, but they soon fond out what horror the plague really was. They found out through suffering. At the time of the girl's death they all touched her and inherited the plague for their families. Thus there was no need hear the story, and while not knowing they had the plague, they went on with their normal lives for two days. But in those two days they managed to spread the plague to everyone in Sorrows End.
By the end of one lunar mouth everyone was dead. Lying there, cold as the frozen marble floor they lay on. Limp bodies bearing faces white with fear. Iron daggers plunged into the villager's hearts; their eyes were as empty and wide as the shining full moon which shone through the hole in the roof of the mansion located four feet away from the chandelier. The small hole allowed the moon light to peek through and cast light upon the face of the corpses. Her mouth was hanging awkwardly open, the once brown hair blood red. Blood tears were steaming from their eyes, as they lay on the floor soaking in their own blood. The bodies of this village would never awaken again, but their lost souls were to linger on forever, formless and forgotten in the darkness.
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