For Experience Writing: If These Bones Could Talk
It’s not the poor Souls who were left in the Plague Houses to die without the comfort of their family- their beloved dogs or cats or even something as simple as having the comfort of facing the dark unknown from their own beds that haunt me.
The idea that haunts me is that there is a Plague House ( or pest house ) that was built in the corner of a churchyard near a cemetery.
Instead of the dying drawing solace from knowing that just outside their windows, on the other side of their bedroom wall was their world and it was close enough to touch- and that maybe, just maybe they might be able to go back it.
In that world they had gardens, maybe their best friend lived next door, maybe their first love lived a few houses down, instead of those comforting thoughts, all the residents of the Cemetery Pest House knew for certain was that on the other side of that wall was a cemetery and that in time, that was where they were going to be moved.
The only thing on the other side of their walls now were boxes of bones covered in dirt and dead flowers.
I’m not sure whose idea it was to build the Pest House near a cemetery, but I wonder why- of all things- did it have a window over looking a graveyard.