A Dark Tune in History - Harrison 6LG

A Dark Time in History

As we arrived at the grey stone church, thunder swept down on us. We entered the building, shaking nervously, I sat down on the cold stone benches. The Reverend stood anxiously in front of everybody. He murmured that the village had the infectious  Black Death! We had to follow these rules: bury your own dead, no more inside worship and most shocking- self guarintine! I gasped and glared at Rowland with my heart beating like a drum. A quiet chat went all around the church. One person even ran out the building because she was so shocked.

We went outside into the humid air, tears poured down both are faces. Rowland clutched me and stuttered “I’ll never leave you Emmott!”

“You have to Rowland, I don’t want to be responsible for infecting your whole village!” I exclaimed. Rowland looked dismayed; he looked at me with fear consuming his eyes. I suggested that everyday we could meet by the tree- our special tree - and wave to each over. Rowland agreed, he gave me one last tight hug and trugged off with the rain following him back to Stoney Middleton.

As weeks went by into months, people were doing some strange and - quite nasty - things. Some wondered around smelling sweet herbs like rosemary, while others whipped themselves so God wouldn’t punish them! Every few nights the whole village would have a huge bonfire to keep the evil spirits away. I didn’t believe any of these things were true but I still took part.

We were running out of supplies so neighbouring villages left all sorts of things like food and medicine by a well and we would leave money at the Boundary stone.

Nevertheless, I still missed Rowland. Everyday I would wait by the tree and wait for him to turn up. Everyday, he would turn up, but my dad was becoming more and more ill and I didn’t always have time to wave anymore. What if Rowland thought I was dead?

Just two weeks later, my father died. My heart drowned in devastation. I buried him in our tiny garden, by his favourite roses. My brother carefully carved his  name into a gravestone. Looking around, other gardens were hosting their own funerals too.

In the middle of October, 1666, the quarantine was lifted. Rowland rushed into the quiet village of Eyam. He searched everywhere for Emmott. Reverend Mompesson spotted Rowland and solemnly tried to explain that Emmott had died. Rowland’s knees fell heavily to the ground. What would he do without his beloved Emmott?

The Plague of the Dark Love - Elizabeth 6LG

                                   The Plague of the Dark Love  

 

The wind cackled and spat as the doors of the dull church swung open and echoed with a moan. I was settled into my seat with Rowland , the crowd muttered as the Reverend Mompesson demanded the villagers to his attention. Finally when the crowd was a peace , he spoke with a serious tone over the pool of innocent people ; his words soft but deep.

“Souls of Eyam ! I thank you all dearly for your accompany , I have summoned you here to warn you of the appearance of the Black Death. I have a few suggestions to help us within this crisis”. He continued.

“ Recommendation 1 : all dead shall be put to rest on their own land. Secondly , no more events in the church for even contact could put a life at risk and lastly this has been decided and you may hold your rights to doubt and be hesitant. Eyam will be put under self-quarantine.” A shocked silence drifted as the people start to leave the grey church with only the nights breeze broke the silence.

Rowland tugged me towards the side of the church with a gracious force ; a flock of villagers walked out with a sluggish pace. He looked troubled and numb for all I could see was his eyes trembled with utter sadness, I had no words to comfort him for I was scared the same as him.

“Rowland you must leave-i do hope you understand..”

“I refuse to leave you! You’re the only one i ever loved and i do not wish to lose you ! ” , his voice was shaken ; I felt him shiver in my embrace as the echoes of creatures cried into the night.

The Reverend had heard the sad commotion , he stumbled over and he patted Rowland with a deep smile.

“I do believe it is for the best young fellow the village can’t risk to stay open to the world. Do you wish for Emmott to shudder at your grave this month ? ” Rowland stared into darkness ; he gave a final embrace as his tears melted into the stone path.

It was only the first day of the plague , the first day of darkness , the first day without Rowland. Everything was stable until I saw a man - who was rather short - selling many items from a small battered crate.

“Flowers , whips and fire wood , i’ve got it all ! Brush away the evil scent of death ; frighten the evil souls that wish to corrupt your life - prove you’re sorry for your sins to the great lord ! ” He bellowed . As my father had caught the infectious illness he needed as much help possible , so I bought some flowers and blessed the man to stay well.

One dead morning , I marched towards our tree to await for Rowland , after many minutes , a small figure trotted to a rock at the bottom of the hill , my heart skipped a beat - it was Rowland.

“Rowland ! Up here !”. I chanted until he saw me , he gave a wave as I saw him place some flowers on the rock. And with that he said ,

“I'm glad you are well my love ! I wish to see you soon once again !”. And with that , he was gone.

As I marched back with some flowers and many supplies from our neighbouring village Stoney Middleton , I noticed that more people were outside , it seemed calm. Maybe it was because the deaths had slowed down   ( only 73 deaths so far ); either way I was just pleased to see my love well.

My Father , he was worse by the second , he could barely move without terrible pain. Therefore I had to spend most of my days caring for him , I couldn’t even walk into his room without a tear on my face ; I loved him too much to see him like that.

But one evening I gave him a regular kiss on his ginger head and left to grab him some flowers and food. I returned to his room, my face dropped, my heart sank ; there he lay emotionless and solemn with his eyes open and dull, his body looking pale. I stepped over to him, closed his eyes and held him tightly as I begged.

“Wake up. Father please...please. I don’t want to say goodbye…”

The pain only grew more aggressive, the clouds of blood leaked as the day came, even the cemetery couldn’t take me in ; a last flicker of day drowned into darkness - a letter of bold lay in the hand of a weary soul within a coffin of sacrifice.

The shield lifted, the birds song brushed the autumn air, people of Eyam still sunk in sorrow , but one determined soul ventured for his love.

“Emmott?”, Rowland muttered. He ran to her home, but as he arrived and caught his breath he saw two thin stones with awkwardly carved words on them. Mr Sydall and Rowland’s beloved Emmott Sydall. His tears were sharp and overflowed as if he had just seen his worst nightmare, he stared at the note left on the soft grass.

Dear Rowland,

I’m sorry that I had passed but do stay strong and give a smile. My love for you will never pass for I will send down the brightest dove with all my love from heaven above.

Yours truly,

Emmott Sydall.

When he had finished he smiled sadly.

The Highwayman - Billy 6LG

Longingly, I gazed out of my gleaming, glass casement, wishing for my lover to suddenly appear out of the coal-black sky. The deserted, overgrown moor was lit up by the moon, which was a ghostly galleon. Surrounded by gusty trees that were blowing gracefully in the breeze, I spied the road that he would ride.

Moments later, as I heard the tlot, tlot of the horse’s hooves, a calming, familiar rhythm danced into my ears; only my true love would sing this! As my eyes widened and sparkled, a handsome Highwayman, wearing a crimson, velvet coat, came galloping towards me. He reached out for my hand and told me his cunning plan: “I’ll be back with some fancy, yellow gold before sunrise.” I nodded as he galloped over the purple, moon-lit moor until he became out of sight to the west.

As The Highwayman trotted off, the old, murky stable wicket slowly creaked open and blood-red eyes glared suspiciously along the road where The Highwayman had ridden. I examined the never-ending, misty track and out of the thick layer of fog, a red-coat troop - King George’s soldiers - came marching to me. I was hoping that one of those figures (emerging from the mist) was The Highwayman. “I’ve been waiting all day!” I muttered, “From the early hours of the dawning to the rise of the moon and nothing!” I was furious.

As the wooden inn door creaked ajar, the red-coat troop came sneaking in. If The Highwayman comes back, he would be shot dead, wouldn’t he? I thought. “He’s innocent!” I told myself, as I silently slipped out of the shattered door: I was trying to get a better view. I spied them slurping down ale, unprofessionally. In a blink of an eye, they slammed down the transparent mug and came charging towards me. Cowering, I hid. They laid an eye on me so I slipped back into my room, bolting the door shut. “Open up!” a soldier bellowed, banging on the door until it broke. “Ey, where be The Highwayman then? ‘Ave ya seen ‘im anywhere?” I sat there speechless. Ferociously, they grabbed me by the neck and tied me against the leg of the bed with a musket for protection. Helplessly, I screamed as I saw The Highwayman come gracefully galloping back… Would this be the end?

As the ancient, wooden clock tower chimed midnight, I realised what I had to do - I had to sacrifice myself; I had to warn him with my death! With one last deep breath, a finger escaped onto the trigger of the musket. “Goodbye my precious love!” I bellowed as I pressed down the trigger. BANG! Faintly (as I saw everything slowly fade away) I caught sight of The Highwayman coming to a halt. My head was ringing. My mind was blurry. My eyes began to close but at least I had warned my love - warned him with my death...

The Highwayman - Kyira 6LG

The Highwayman

The moon glinted through my casement as I stared over the ribbon-like road, looking for the slightest move. I glared at the thin, moonlit road looking over it, patiently waiting for my love.

Suddenly, I heard the tlot-tlot ringing through my ears. “Could that be him?” I muttered to myself. A tune calmly whistled through my head, the tune only my lover would know. I opened my casement, below was The Highwayman: my lover. His golden pistol twinkled in the moonlight as we made a plan. “I shall be back with yellow gold before the morning light.”

He road away with his velvet coat waving behind him.

I didn’t see him in dawning; he didn’t come at noon. I glared eagerly out of my casement, but still nothing. I wanted to give up.

Soon later - when the sky was a tawny sunset - I saw something in the distance. My eyes squinted making a look on my face as they came closer and closer to the old inn door.

Suddenly, I heard a thump coming towards my room. The red-coats slammed the door open and stomped in front of me. They pushed me to my old, broken bedpost and tied me up to attention. “Why were they doing this?” I thought. I couldn’t move. The soldiers laughed and made fun of me, while staring carefully out of the window holding up their pistols.

Moments later, I heard a familiar sound of horse's hooves getting louder and louder. I twisted my hands to get free from the long, ichy rope. My hands were covered with sweat or blood - I didn’t know which. Suddenly, I manage to get one of my finger’s free. I made a plan. I took one last deep breath and…

BANG!

I laid in the darkness, drenched in my own red blood. My love galloped away safely - I’d warned him with my death.