There had been news going around. I'm not sure where it came from, but it was probably the merchants that come into the city to deliver spices and wool and other exotic products from all over Europe, as they always have the latest gossip from France, Italy and goodness knows where else. They are saying there's a plague spreading, and it's serious as well. Thousands have died, all within a relatively short time, and it will reach Constantinople soon. No one believes them, but I fear that might be our downfall.

I was at the market the other day whenever I heard this, getting some eggs for a special meal that night. The textile stand caught my attention, as it does every week. How am I meant to ignore all of the beautiful bolts of silk and velvet, without thinking about a beautiful dress for myself? My own clothes were shabby, and this stall cruelly reminded me of this fact every week.

While I was wistfully fingering the embroidery on one bolt, I heard two stall owners talking in hushed tones, like they didn't want me to hear. I couldn't help listening, I'm a very nosy person.

I edged closer to them, trying to be as subtle as possible, and listened intently.

"...terrible sores..."

"...can't believe it's in Europe."

"Do you think..."

"... possibly."

"...fevers and seizures...pus..."

"...at least they don't suffer for long."

I had heard enough. I ran away from the stall, away from the horrific things I was hearing, to my humble home. The only place where I ever felt safe.

But now, I didn't even feel the same sense of comfort in my own home. I tried nuzzling into my blankets, but nothing could shake the disgusting images that that conservation had planted in my head. Was there even a cure for this awful plague?

Unfortunately, I found out far sooner than I wanted to.

A few days later, news spread throughout the city that several important people had caught the plague. They were covered in black blotches, and the best doctors had come to see them, but had only prescribed drinking milk, or carrying herbs, or flogging themselves. They have no idea how it started either. They came up with a number of ridiculous theories, such as the nobles had poisoned the water, the planets had aligned, or a volcanic eruption. It was all a bit surreal.

Unfortunately, my sister Berna caught the plague shortly after the news spread. Berna was crying day and night, but the doctor just prescribed the same fake cures as the nobles. Nothing that Mother did worked either. She kept her cool with cold water, spoon fed her herbal remedies, and whispered stories to her, but every day, she got weaker and weaker.

Then one morning, I woke up, and something didn't feel right. The air felt heavy. Stumbling into Mother's room, I found her weeping over a small shape in the bed. Berna.

Mother saw me, and burst into fresh tears. "Oh, Damla!" We hugged and sobbed for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes.

After unsuccessfully trying to compose myself, I gently pushed Mother away from me, and I went to get dressed. I didn't feel like it, but life had to go on. I wanted to stop time for Mother and me, so we could grieve for as long as we wanted to, but no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes, the wind kept blowing, the children kept screaming and the bustle of the market wouldn't stop.

I reluctantly started to dress myself, and then I screamed. There were black spots in my armpits.

The first symptoms of the plague.

Mother immediately changed Berna's sheets so I could sleep on them, and then I was promptly whisked off to bed. I don't really know what happened over the next few days, except what Mother told me and that I somehow survived.

"You kept growing black spots, and the fever started. It was terrible Damla, you were shivering and sweating all at once, and I didn't know whether to put a cold cloth to your head or wrap you up in blankets. One night, you even had a seizure! I was so scared I was going to lose you, right after losing Berna." Mother started weeping at this point, sobs that wracked her small frame. Through the tears, she continued.

"Your spots started to swell, and one was as big as an apple. You also got black blotches, but I don't know why. At that point you looked a bit like burnt bread!" She started giggling, despite still crying, and then she got the hiccups. I started laughing then, even though I still felt very sick.

"Your swellings then burst, and then this revolting stuff came out. Whenever I sat you up, you coughed violently and sometimes there was blood. I really thought at that point I would lose you," she said, suddenly serious again.

"But I survived!"

"Yes, and I'm really glad you did. Be strong, Damla."

We embraced, and I never wanted to let go.

Sadly, countless families in the village had to let go of love ones. The first time I went out after surviving the Plague, there were dead bodies piled up on the street, their stench overpowering. I didn't stay outside for long.

The next time I went to the market, the same two men were talking about the effects in Europe.

"...millions..."

"...the population will never be the same."

"I'm surprised that..."

"... completely agree."

That day, when I went back home, I realised how big of an impact the Black Death had. I don't think Europe's population will ever be the same. I'm thankful that I lived. However, I also remember every day that Berna and countless other people weren't so lucky. It still makes me shiver to think how close I was to Black Death's Door, and I will never forget that.