Unleashing a foul, fetid breath like a miasma of disease with hues of red and yellow, the creature stood over Garrick, victorious. Its claws wrapped around his wrists, pinning him to the floor as it lashed its lips with its large, boil covered tongue.
Garrick was met with unconsciousness. It washed over him like a heavy blanket, and with it a sickening fever and malaise. Sweat trickled out of every pore of his body, and his breath became laboured.
While his allies worked to save him, Garrick’s mind stepped into the abyss, wrapping itself in knots and confounding itself with illusion. A trip down memory lane.
Awaking in his bed, Garrick could feel the razor blades in his throat as he forced out a cough. His head had been draped in a damp, wet cloth, now warm and soaked in sweat.
“Shhh, Gary. Lie back down, my love,” his mother pressed her hands gently to his shoulders, willing him back into his cot.
“Mummy? Where am I?” asked Garrick, his eyes struggling to adjust to the warm candlelit room.
“In your bed,” his mother pulled the rag off his forehead, and with the back of her hand checked his forehead. “You’re still burning up…” She could feel the hope drain from her. This plague had already taken her husband and caused her daughter to be stillborn. Garrick was her only family left.
“Am I going to be OK?” Garrick burst into a coughing fit, each more painful than the last.
“Yes, dear.” She soaked the rag in some cold water, and wrang it out. Applying it back to Garrick’s forehead, she smiled in an effort to soothe her son’s worry. “The priest will be here tomorrow, and then you’ll be up and running about with your friends like nothing even happened!” She felt her the tears sting her eyes, the grim reality that the clergy had forsaken their village hanging heavy on her shoulders.
Today's prompt: memory lane
This week's worldbuilding prompt: sickness and recovery
If you'd like to participate too, the contest/prompts can be found here:
@mariannewest/day-1615-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-memory-lane
