The year was 1351. Nothing on the Earth moved. All life was over. Except, one family. Since the beginning of the plague they hadn’t left their house, hadn’t eaten anything, and hadn't slept. For all they knew it had only been days. They still expect the plague to hit them, and they had a feeling it was going to hit them hard, and fast. They still wait for the inevitable. Still wait for sickness, for death. They wait for the end.

It’s Monday. David, the youngest son, gets up and looks outside. “It’s daytime,” he says. No one comments. David is the only one who seems to speak these days. He seems hopeful. He wants to go outside and talk to someone who will talk back, he wants to eat some meat or some carrots, or even a bite of bread, and it wasn’t because he was hungry, it was just because it seemed like the normal reaction.
Mary just faintly hears her brother talking. She hates him. As if time couldn’t go by slow enough, he had to say something full of stupidity. She had no clue what day it was or what year. Everyone looked exactly the same. Shallow, purple pits where eyes are suppose to be, rotted yellow teeth, brown, oily hair, and mouths turned down in nasty expressions. They all felt the same; hungry and tired. She didn’t know why her mother would not allow her sleep. “Did she think that a disease would seep through the door and swallow us whole?” she thought. The more days they waited, the more irritable she and her family got.
Aaron, the eldest son gets up and punches David, just seconds after he had spoken. For some reason Aaron is the angriest of them all. He was on track to get married to a lovely girl named Annabelle, a beautiful girl from a wealthy family, when his parents shut the doors to the outside world. If Mary had seen love before her brother met Anna, it had be pitiful and fake. When they were together, they were different people; they used to walk together, hands held, smiles on their faces. He tried so hard to get out of the small hut the parents called a home, he just wanted to check on his Anna. He wanted to make sure she was alright. His father tied him to a post at one point just, “for the family’s sake...” One week after that, he felt a deep hole in the bottom of his stomach, his father tried to convince him it was from hunger, but he knew what really happened. He didn’t want to think about it.

Mother was your typical middle aged woman. She was always sad. She had nothing nice to say. She had been forced into a marriage and expected to have children with an ugly, meat butchering bastard. Now he was all she had. Her husband was the only one with the same mind set. The only other person who knew they had to stay the way they were or else the inevitable could, and would happen.

Father was trying to think. Trying to remember. He had been keeping a calendar since the plague had started. No one knows. Everyone thinks he’s reading a book. From his calendar, it’s March 12th, 1351. He looks up. He sees his youngest child crippled upon the floor, but does nothing. He gets back to “reading.”
The family looks at each other for a quick moment, then continued on with their lives.
Mother was leaning her head on her hands, sobbing. Father was reading the same book he had read at least 10 times everyday. Mary was thinking, staring off into the corner. Aaron was walking back to his spot on the cold ground, and David; David was just lying there on the ground, right where he had been hit with Aaron’s blinding blow. There, they continued waiting for the end.