The following narratives are responses to an assignment in which I asked my students to write
a restitution narrative in the voice of a literary character. In the case of the Introduction to
The Decameron, the narratives are written in the voice of the city of Florence.
a restitution narrative in the voice of a literary character. In the case of the Introduction to
The Decameron, the narratives are written in the voice of the city of Florence.
Restitution Narrative of the Introduction, The Decameron
by Cara Ortiz
I used to be a beautiful city. One of whom my people loved to be a part. Children running and playing through the streets, neighbors were actually neighbors that talked and helped each other in times of need. The deadly plague that masked over my inhabitants caused nothing to ever be the same again.
There used to be a distinct difference here between the wealthy and the poor. By the types of food you ate and the clothing you wore depended upon what society you belonged to and associated with. During the time of the plague, it did not matter who you were or how much money you had. Medical care was sparse with doctors and medical help dying left and right, the innocence of most women changed after these couple of months. Having to resort to anyone willing to help their sickness created people, especially the women, to be of something that they weren’t like before. This was a dramatic change in the traditional qualities that used to be within me.
My people had different reactions to the disease spreading so fast. My unloyal citizens fled without any personal belongings, thinking escape was the best thing to do. I had witnessed throughout families leaving each other to preserve their own health, children being left unattended while their parents ran away to prevent catching the awful sickness lurking about. Other brave souls that remained faithful to me isolated themselves from others and lived modestly during this time. There was little or no contact with others and food was rationed because of fear of infected items. Then there were the citizens who did not have a care in the world and drank to ease the thought of the plague, thinking it would all go away soon if they just tried to avoid it that way.
Funeral and church rituals were no longer the same during and after the time of the plague. The dead began to pile up along the sides of the streets on top of each other. Collected by carts and taken to the nearest church for burial, or once all burial sites were filled, bodies were placed in dirt holes. At this time, ancestral burial sites and services were of unimportance to people and dead was a common thing. You were lucky if a candle was lit or a prayer was said for you in remembrance. These new changes were very different from how they used to be before the illness went rampage across my people. Ways it could be restored would be regaining a healthy population back, wealthy, middle, and poor are all needed for society to go back to the way things were. All bad things eventually come to an end; I am just waiting for this corrupt outbreak to settle and my people will make their way back into me.
My Transformation
by Robin Cornett
The core of my being has forever been changed. How I look at life and others now has a dark haze. Where there was life and prosperity is now baron. My innocence has been taken away and replaced by a cruel hardening of the soul. Do not take this to mean I have no feelings left, I still feel joy and love, but my carefree nature is gone.
Once my streets were full of laughter and the noise of everyday life. The business of the day, merchants selling their merchandise, the soldiers walking about, the thief stalking his next victim, children chasing each other. The rich, dressed in all their finery, walking about so everyone could see. The poor, trying to go unnoticed, were doing what had to be done. All of these people on my streets made me who I am.
I am Florence.
I heard a whisper of an enemy that was trying to penetrate my walls. The officials made all attempts to keep this beast away. No one could go in or out. The manure was thrown out. My gates were shut. Nothing could get inside my wall, I can protect my people, of that I had no doubt.
I started to smell death, but how could that be, my wall had not been touched. No one had come through the gates. What had gotten in? I saw no strangers on my streets, no noise of battle. A sickness had come and was running rapid inside my walls. No one could get away from it. The physicians were of no help; all of the home remedies did nothing. This sickness had no prejudice against the poor or the rich, man or women, young or old. I could do nothing but watch and cry in silence.
Once the sickness had run its course one hundred thousand had died. So many things have changed. The noise on the street was no longer the same. People still went about their day but the demeanor was different. The laughter was gone; the joy of everyday life had been stripped away.
Ladies that once would not dare to walk about the streets unaccompanied by a male relative or a group of servants would walk about freely. What happened to their bashfulness? They were a little more assertive toward men now. An innocence has been lost.
The once elaborate funeral that would take place is no longer. Relatives and friends no longer go to the home of the dying to sit or pray for their soul. Death had become so commonplace that hardly a tear is shed anymore. People are more concerned for their own well-being than that of their neighbors. It has become survival of the fittest with little concern for the fallen.
People no longer walk around with pride in their step, but with a step of concern. The rich, the poor, all seem to be on the same level. Some people made a profit from all the death and others spent all they had to keep from dying. The social classes have been turned upside down and no one really knows any longer where they belong.
I was built to protect my people. I have thick walls and a strong gate. Throughout the years I did my job. There was order to life and people felt protected, but now all of that is gone. I feel that I failed my people and let the enemy destroy their way of life. Without joy in my street I feel no joy. Without laughter or love floating though in the air I am not whole. We have survived but we are very battled worn. My one dream is that we can all heal and find peace with our new way of life.
by Cara Ortiz
I used to be a beautiful city. One of whom my people loved to be a part. Children running and playing through the streets, neighbors were actually neighbors that talked and helped each other in times of need. The deadly plague that masked over my inhabitants caused nothing to ever be the same again.
There used to be a distinct difference here between the wealthy and the poor. By the types of food you ate and the clothing you wore depended upon what society you belonged to and associated with. During the time of the plague, it did not matter who you were or how much money you had. Medical care was sparse with doctors and medical help dying left and right, the innocence of most women changed after these couple of months. Having to resort to anyone willing to help their sickness created people, especially the women, to be of something that they weren’t like before. This was a dramatic change in the traditional qualities that used to be within me.
My people had different reactions to the disease spreading so fast. My unloyal citizens fled without any personal belongings, thinking escape was the best thing to do. I had witnessed throughout families leaving each other to preserve their own health, children being left unattended while their parents ran away to prevent catching the awful sickness lurking about. Other brave souls that remained faithful to me isolated themselves from others and lived modestly during this time. There was little or no contact with others and food was rationed because of fear of infected items. Then there were the citizens who did not have a care in the world and drank to ease the thought of the plague, thinking it would all go away soon if they just tried to avoid it that way.
Funeral and church rituals were no longer the same during and after the time of the plague. The dead began to pile up along the sides of the streets on top of each other. Collected by carts and taken to the nearest church for burial, or once all burial sites were filled, bodies were placed in dirt holes. At this time, ancestral burial sites and services were of unimportance to people and dead was a common thing. You were lucky if a candle was lit or a prayer was said for you in remembrance. These new changes were very different from how they used to be before the illness went rampage across my people. Ways it could be restored would be regaining a healthy population back, wealthy, middle, and poor are all needed for society to go back to the way things were. All bad things eventually come to an end; I am just waiting for this corrupt outbreak to settle and my people will make their way back into me.
My Transformation
by Robin Cornett
The core of my being has forever been changed. How I look at life and others now has a dark haze. Where there was life and prosperity is now baron. My innocence has been taken away and replaced by a cruel hardening of the soul. Do not take this to mean I have no feelings left, I still feel joy and love, but my carefree nature is gone.
Once my streets were full of laughter and the noise of everyday life. The business of the day, merchants selling their merchandise, the soldiers walking about, the thief stalking his next victim, children chasing each other. The rich, dressed in all their finery, walking about so everyone could see. The poor, trying to go unnoticed, were doing what had to be done. All of these people on my streets made me who I am.
I am Florence.
I heard a whisper of an enemy that was trying to penetrate my walls. The officials made all attempts to keep this beast away. No one could go in or out. The manure was thrown out. My gates were shut. Nothing could get inside my wall, I can protect my people, of that I had no doubt.
I started to smell death, but how could that be, my wall had not been touched. No one had come through the gates. What had gotten in? I saw no strangers on my streets, no noise of battle. A sickness had come and was running rapid inside my walls. No one could get away from it. The physicians were of no help; all of the home remedies did nothing. This sickness had no prejudice against the poor or the rich, man or women, young or old. I could do nothing but watch and cry in silence.
Once the sickness had run its course one hundred thousand had died. So many things have changed. The noise on the street was no longer the same. People still went about their day but the demeanor was different. The laughter was gone; the joy of everyday life had been stripped away.
Ladies that once would not dare to walk about the streets unaccompanied by a male relative or a group of servants would walk about freely. What happened to their bashfulness? They were a little more assertive toward men now. An innocence has been lost.
The once elaborate funeral that would take place is no longer. Relatives and friends no longer go to the home of the dying to sit or pray for their soul. Death had become so commonplace that hardly a tear is shed anymore. People are more concerned for their own well-being than that of their neighbors. It has become survival of the fittest with little concern for the fallen.
People no longer walk around with pride in their step, but with a step of concern. The rich, the poor, all seem to be on the same level. Some people made a profit from all the death and others spent all they had to keep from dying. The social classes have been turned upside down and no one really knows any longer where they belong.
I was built to protect my people. I have thick walls and a strong gate. Throughout the years I did my job. There was order to life and people felt protected, but now all of that is gone. I feel that I failed my people and let the enemy destroy their way of life. Without joy in my street I feel no joy. Without laughter or love floating though in the air I am not whole. We have survived but we are very battled worn. My one dream is that we can all heal and find peace with our new way of life.