Title: Timor Mortis Conturbat Me
Rating PG (For epidemic death)
Character Thomas Kyd
Trying something new here guys-- not fan-fic exactly. Is this RPF? Maybe. He was real, but I am making his thoughts up. And I am also playing with facts a little. His parents survived him, poor man, he died young. He did live thorough the plague in London though. I hope to eventually bring Marlowe into the story. Lots of angst, heroics, m/m, hurt-comfort, good stuff here... Wish me luck.
Timor Mortis Conturbat Me
I waited, as a son should, but I had not saved them, and I could not watch them into the cart.
The carter was thick bodied, he moved with a limp, but brisk. The cloth covered his mouth, but his eyes touched me. I felt the weight of them, a player learns the feel of eyes upon him.
He had a boy with him, an apprentice to his ghastly trade? Maybe. Or maybe a son to be his help and comfort of his old age, as a son should do-- as I could not do. He spoke to the boy kind and soft, I know that.
The man opened the door with his crowbar. Quick motions, and a protest of nails. I stood in the light of the dooryard, and looked into the gloom of the house. Then I could not look. But I heard the soft sound of them coming to rest upon the others in the cart. He tried to lay them modest, I am sure. After some time the stiffness passes, and the dead can be made seemly. He had tried to do this, I saw. But I could not watch him with my parents. The cart was half full already, he set them upon their neighbors, not upon rough wood. All would go together. I gave the man a coin, also the boy.
The man nodded silent, but the boy smiled sunshine up into my face. A child, he knew no better. Maybe he thought to buy an apple tart. I would have done so, at his age.
And now no one would know that my father had bit his nails, or that my mother had been quick to laugh and did wonders with bread and sausages.
I sat down on the step, put my head down on my knees for some time. The day was coming on warm.