October, 1621, England

The Plague doctor looked down at one of the victims, that being the victim of the black death. He had large strange swellings covering his skin with blood and puss, seeping out of the welts. He had a very high fever and all of the victim’s joints ached in unbearable pain. He shook strangely from the chills that ran through his body and at certain times, he would vomit all over the ground around him.

The doctor wore a strange mask--with horrifying bird-like features, including a long ghoulishly white beak about six inches long, which was stuffed with herbs, dried flowers, and spices, the sweet smells entering the doctor’s nostrils. The mask had been attributed, coats of wax to protect him, and two glass holes at the top so the doctor could see the horrifying conditions that the patients portrayed. Not only that but the mask also had a strap that tightly attached the covering to the doctor’s face.

The doctor also wore a wide-brimmed leather hat, that used to indicate the doctor’s profession. He also held a wooden cane that he would use to examine the patient without the need to touch him, therefore, the disease couldn’t infect him.

Lower, the mask gathered at the neck where the doctor then wore a long leather overcoat, or cloak as some called it, covered with wax. The doctor also wore leather gloves, leggings, leather boots, and a leather tunic, most of which were again covered with wax.

The plague doctor stared at the victim with its horrid glass eyes and as the victim looked up at him, the plague doctor simply laughed. The patient twisted onto his side and vomited blood and half-digested food. It fell to the floor in clumps. The plague doctor did nothing to cure the patient and leaned on his wooden cane continuing to laugh, the laugh of an insane man. 

The patient couldn’t comprehend why the doctor was laughing. The welts on his skin had gotten worse in such a short time and larger amounts of both blood and puss oozed out of the bumps.

The patient tried to signal to the doctor for help, but the plague doctor ignored him and the patient's condition grew worse in minutes as he continued to spew blood and other things.

The doctor immediately stopped laughing after the patient had thrown up a fifth time and dead silence surrounded the room.

Using his stick, the plague doctor checked the victim, including lifting his shirt, feeling his pulse and examining the welts. The plague doctor looked at the victim with its lifeless glass eyes.

He pulled off his gloves which revealed ghastly pale hands and long fingers covered in a thin layer of wax, same as both the clothes and mask.

He stepped out of his boots which revealed the same revolting pale features as the hands and the same thin-wax layer. 

The doctor was made of wax, the same as a white candle.

He continued to undress revealing only his tunic, pants, and the horrifying mask.

“Do you know who I am?” the doctor asked the patient who continued to twist and turn in violent reactions due to the disease.

The patient looked over at the doctor with a horrified gaze.

The doctor laughed again as he continued to clench the cane in a tighter grip.

“I’m not a doctor,” he said. “I’m the figure who created this damn disease.”

The patient was horrified and mostly unable to understand the figure since he spoke in such a modern language not yet comprehended by the people of this century.

“And do you want to know why I did it?” the creature hissed. “People are the scum of the earth and they must be wiped out by the same scum. Wretchedness, disgusting, horrifying scum.”

The patient bent over and threw up again, as the candle-like creature continued.

“I’m not like you, I’m a demon of sorts. I’m well . . . immortal. Unable to be killed if you will. Residue like you will try to find ways to get rid of diseases such as that of the black death, and hell, you might make me disappear for a while. But I’ll always be back. You can’t get rid . . . of . . . anything.” the doctor said as he sat back continuing to watch as the patient continued to twist and turn in grotesque ways as his skin decayed.

“Time’s up,” the candle-like creature said to the man as he threw the cane across the room and instead used one of his long narrow, paper-white finger, to touch the patient’s forehead.

The patient shared one last look of horror before his body first went stiff, then limp as moss.

The doctor threw back on his clothes consisting of his leather gloves, boots, and overcoat. He then quietly disposed of the infected body. After the task had been completed, he walked casually back into his workspace and said one last word. This word was the most horrible of all. 

With a deep breath the plague demon shouted, “Next.”