“You’re not going to get it. The plague only affects people who believe in It.” said mother, her bangs tickled my face, hanging from the bonnet. She was trying to convince me that the farmers deserved to die, in their fields, in their homes, since believing in the plague was tantamount to blasphemy. “But mother,” I said, “should I be afraid of all my beliefs?“

We walked along the village’s edge, among the tall grass, and along the creek, and watched the birds flutter from the boughs of a nearby tree in the bright morning sun. The townsfolk, in their white and black Sunday attire, were speaking in separate groups throughout the thoroughfare. They slowly started to gather closer and tread along the path. “No, dear. Only the bad ones, the ones that go against God.”

She grabbed my hand as I looked up and revealed my insecurities, “But what if I can’t help believing in things? I don’t want to fail in my duties, I don’t want to upset Quulon, the creator of all things, but sometimes I can’t control my thoughts. They wander…”

“You cannot fail if you believe in the one-true God.” My mother repeated the phrase I had heard from her so many times. “If you don’t believe in Him then you will get the plague.”

“But I don’t want to die.” I pleaded, despite the fact that if I would die by the plague I would have to believe in the plague. The thoughts swirled in my head and none of them made sense.

“All of God’s creatures shall obey. That is the commandment. That is our creed. Quulon knows best and Quulon will guide us to the ever-after.”

My mother’s sister greeted us along the path, “Good morrow, sister. The day has finally come that we will all know Quulon. Isn’t it wonderful? What a glorious and fine day to receive the ultimate blessing.”

“Yes, of course. I was just telling my daughter that faith in Quulon will allow us to persevere through anything, including this nasty plague business.” said mother.

My aunt shook her head, “It is terrible. Hundreds died in Florence, a lecherous city though, if I’ve ever known one. The children are fretting all over, it seems. Such a shame they’re involved at all, but it is God’s will, so the children must learn to cope.” She leaned down towards me, “Life is about hardship, little one. Soon that life will be over and Quulon will take you, take all of us away from this dreadful existence.”

The road continued beyond the edge of the field and that was when I noticed the entire village was walking along the path, following us and the few men ahead of us. What did her aunt mean…? I often would be bewildered by the actions and words of the villagers, especially the preachers, and so I ignored any dangers swelling in my mind. Besides, Quulon knew best. I didn’t need to defend myself against danger. I didn’t need to do anything except hide my unease and cowardice of faith.

As the crowd of villagers moved steadily on I sensed a strange surrender in their faces. Most of their backs, including my mother’s and aunt’s, were bent and none of them were smiling, despite them speaking about “salvation” and “jubilation.” Quulon would lead us, they were saying, but to where? The road led toward the end of the field but beyond that I didn’t know where the road led. I wasn’t allowed to know, much like a lot of things. But like my blind faith I chose not to question it, even though I should have, knowing what I know now.

To the right of the villagers, and the path, was the forest, dark and full of unknown scary things, as I was told, and to the left was the field, coming to an end just a few yards away. But it was the figure far ahead, standing near the end of the woods that sent a chill up my spine. The man was lanky and held his hands behind his back under a black robe. “Who is that man?” I pointed.

“Who?” my mother held her hand over her eyes. “You’re pointing at empty woods.”

Peering desperately I searched the other’s faces and they were all trying to smile but were failing miserably. None were looking at the man, whose presence caused me to look away in dreadful apprehension. The hood covered his eyes but that toothy grin was plain to see, to see only by me. He raised his arm and rotated it beyond the road directly ahead. Was this…Quulon? Was he directing us? I wanted to turn. Thoughts, so many thoughts, urging me to run. Thoughts in themselves that were blasphemous. How was I supposed to function without thinking!

We approached, all of us at once, forced forward by those behind us, our feet covered in dirt, kicked up from the ones in front of us. I gripped my mother’s hand tightly as we crossed over the road’s end and ahead I saw…no…It couldn’t be…The villagers in front were falling…off a cliff. It became horribly apparent that there was no way ahead, the road, the land itself ended. None of the villagers screamed or made a noise, only the sound of feet crumbling against loose rock and the disgusting thud of a wet potato sack below. I gasped and squealed, pushing against my own mother who edged me forward.

“No, no! I don’t want to die!”

“You’ll be fine.” mother tried to comfort me with a shoulder rub and leaned down. “Once you’re over the edge you’ll be fine. You just have to have faith. We don’t have to fear the plague ever again.”

“I’m just so…confused. I can’t focus…on my thoughts. I’m afraid to have my own thoughts and I’m afraid I’ll forget who I am.” Her expression revealed that she was angry and I couldn’t tell from what. She looked sick but from something inside her mind.

“If you work yourself up like this you’ll start to make up stories, stories that will make you angry. Just forget all that and come with us.”

She tried to pull my arm but I stood my ground, “I’m not going and neither should you. There might be people in another village that could use our help.”

“Help with what? Your home is here, over the edge.”

Others were going around us, and off the cliff, without a second thought. “Aren’t we supposed to help others? Isn’t that God’s commandment?”

Mother considered this for a moment, her expression never waning from anger, “Enough. We need to help ourselves. Besides the plague will go away, it’ll just disappear. And it’ll be a miracle.”

I gazed up at her, “But…you said that if you believe it then you’ll get it and die. How can you say that it exists but also deny its existence?”

Her pallor went from red to white and her mouth opened slightly. She didn’t know. And she might never know. Thoughts it seemed, and belief, which is an extension of thought, were too much for her mind to handle. I looked over at the figure I took to be Quulon. He was facing me, that smiling eating away at my heart. This God was not as honorable as I had originally perceived. All this turmoil boiled within me and I shook my fist and held them to my eyes. Run. My mind was begging. Get away. She only wants to hurt you. Was it so wrong to want to be good and not hurt people or spread the plague? Why was that bad? I took one last look at my mother, seeing her as she was, knowing I would never see her again and ran. She screamed after me but I couldn’t hear. The words were lost to me because of the rushing wind, or perhaps it was the trickster God Quulon laughing behind me in a mocking whisper.