An Excerpt Of My (Potentially) Upcoming Book

I realize there's practically no one that really reads my blog or anyone that could care less about what I have to write, especially stories coming out of such an anonymus person that the world never heard of and may never will... But anyway, I just wanted to share this short clip I wrote, the original inspiration for the book. The rest of my story is still at introducing Zachariah, let alone the French Gaurds, and kind of setting the uh... setting, but I still want to include this when I get to the point...


This is the story of a man named Zachariah. He grows up during the purification of the 1340s, and his family dies off of the plague. He goes running into the countryside and hides in their like a nomad living off berries for a while until he finally gets captured.


At the moment, they plan to torment him and he is trying to escape before they whip him and beat him to death with the cross:

“Imprisonment”




March 1346


Orleanais, France






He took a look at his surroundings. The cell was dark, desolate, and bitterly unwelcoming. There was an eerie silence and a single beam of unwelcoming ray of tainted light, nothing comforting to a man of faith like him. At moments it made him feel like he had to be dreaming; any moment he would wake up at his home back in Reims, but there was no such reckoning. He was imprisoned in hill with what seemed like no way out.






It was only a matter of time before they came to torture him. Locking him up in a prison with no one else for company or nothing was only part of it. He was an “impur,” as far as they were concerned, it was his fault the plague had came and killed their families. He didn’t think it was simply punishment to the impure anymore, with the way people went on rampages in the countryside killing all the Jews in the sight, it was simply disease.






The Church refused to accept the idea that such sicknesses were inevitable. It wasn’t simply chance or bad luck that could explain such disaster to them. People all across Europe were dying, and obviously there had to be someone to blame.






Zachariah hated to be imprisoned. He had at one point been a free man, a shepherd; he used to roam the land freely. But with one move, that freedom had been taken from him, and now he was locked in a cage, a cage of darkness.






Behind him, the door opened. In stepped a man of short stature. Along with him came several other men, dressed in simple garments, holding whips and crosses. He stood their thinking now was his time.






Next to him, he felt the jab of a sharp pitchfork. Without thinking, he realized it was his only hope at surviving. He slowly grasped his hand around the handle, and started to pray.






He knew it was against his religion to do anything so violent, but he was hard pressed this time. With one final reckoning, he gave the thought, “Here goes nothing” and swung the pitchfork.

That's all I have for now, maybe I'll one day finish the story.