45/01/18
Dear Family Down South,
the winter has been frigid. I long for the days of gentle warmth, lest it turn to sweltering heat. You know I do not do well in such conditions, fragile state I am in. Ohio.
The harvest was merciful. Plentiful, even. Therefore it was not the hunger that took most of us during the cold and dark. Instead, the consumption came. It plagued us. Wracked the strong and killed the weak. I still wake from nightmares, showing me images of the blood left in handkerchiefs, the pale white complexion mottled in red around their mouths. It is horrifying, the all-consuming white death. I worry I won't make it to the next autumn.
I dare ask how it is down south, though thoughts of chaos ruin my mind. Did ye survive the winter well? How many are still left to witness a gentle spring.
Signed, your average victorian child.