Turn out your Light. Revised Version.

Turn out your light:

It was the 8th of August 1348, when I died.

Truthfully the event didn’t come as a surprise. Death himself stalked England then.

Remembering the coughing, the pungent smell, vomit and blood all over the room, would make me shudder if I still had a body. The pestilence was everywhere. The gruesome deaths of people with the raging disease became regular and monotonous. Somebody dies, shove them in the earth and that was it, until the next person. Nobody wanted to become diseased, so it was done quickly and efficiently. Even the priests sometimes avoided hearing the confessions before people died. Families sobbed sorrowfully over the sorry excuses for graves, but nobody else cared.

But I had no family, nobody who cared about me. ‘Crazy ol’ Alice’ that was me the demented woman who lived at the dark end of the village, the woman with the visions of the lights. No other mad hallucinations, just the lights. I wasn’t mad, that was for sure. But nobody believed that I was sane. The lights made me wiser than anyone. Every time a light was extinguished, somebody met their end. And it was me who had to live in knowledge. In these strange dreams where I saw the lights, everyone had a history. For example, in one dream I extended my arm and felt the light dancing and flickering in its radiance and power. His name was Mark Dale. He was a humble farmer abandoned by his wife and working hard to support three children. He...

Then he disappeared.

I remember the first time I saw the lights. I believe I was about fifteen. I was more confused than terrified, yet fear still gnawed at me like a hungry maggot. But over the years I grew to understand and accept the visions for what they were. We cannot change our fate so it is futile to try, as my mother used to say.

I can recall when I was dying, the deathly smell, and the sense of terror. And all of a sudden everything was calm. The boils on my skin disappeared, the sickening stink disappeared, and my vomit and excretion was gone too.

Then he came.

It started with a creak of the door opening. A gnarled wrinkled hand grasped the door frame.

And he stood in the doorway.

He was garbed in a midnight robe with a hood covering most of his face, yet revealing grey stubble and a scarred face.

“Alice Basset.” He murmured. “I have chosen you to help me.”

I walked the void, as if it were solid ground. Seeing the lights blazing about me, some strange ones in the distance, as bright as an August sun; others were dimming like a failing candle. I heard whispers of strange incoherent languages about me, and of past life and life to come. Such torment this was! Death was such a cruel entity to force me to do what I was about to do!

I moved to a light that I recognised. The one that Death had told me about. It was ever so slowly dimming, yet desperately attempting to keep itself radiant.

“She’s only a girl!” I thought with anguish.

I reached into the light. “Turn out your light my dear.” I whispered. “You’ll be safe with me.” And hesitantly the light materialized into her, and she took my hand.

As I led her away she spoke. “Ma’am...” She said. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be my dear.” I whispered. “Nothing can hurt you now.”

Deeds such as this were done by me for centuries. Unfortunately, Death had taken note of my strange abilities and had decided to use them for his own gain. I was bound to guide dead spirits until the end of the pestilence. Gradually I became, what you might call, an Angel of Death.

The memories are horrifying. Some of the dead spirits were loving parents, torn away from their children by the disease, who wept mournfully at their demise. Others could be expressionless, voiceless, statue like human beings, who seemed deeply traumatised by their death, and did not speak, only stared at me with disconcerting milky white eyes. However no matter who the spirits were, it broke my heart to do what I was doing.

But that is all in the past. Death had stated that I must serve him till the end of the pestilence. And no matter how cruel he may be, Death will never break his vows.

So with the reluctant consent of Death and the conclusion of the plague I was finally RELEASED!

My name is Alice Basset and I am now a free spirit.