2 Diary embedded in the soul.

December 10.

Jon wasn't feeling very well today. I am worried. For a few days he has been showing the first symptoms of the unnamed disease. Here they simply call it disease. Not to be superstitious, but I think that I won't tell anyone about this. Maybe, if I don't talk to no one about it I will avoid expanding this thought, this fear, and eventually it will turn out to be nothing more than a simple cold; or at worst a flu. I've heard that there are several requests for flu medicines in the village these days, so it must be just a flu contagion. If this were not the case, I would be forced to flee or fight. I would certainly die.

There is no one here who knows the ancient practices for purifying a body affected by the disease. Unfortunately, even then, it wouldn't change much, since the only known practices are limited to preventing or disinfecting dark radiations, once the infected is already dead. None of us know any cure. If my son were infected, they would take him as far as possible, to the tip of the mountain, and throw him into the sea, not before wrapping him in those horrible silk sacks, with the symbol of the circle and the inverted triangle.

December 12.

Today ___ asked me to help him gather some wood near the woods. We stayed all day. I wanted to avoid being too far away from Jon, but at least I made some money, so tomorrow I'll go out and buy some flu medicine. I hope they have. Whenever someone asks me how I feel, I don't know how to answer. I don't understand it myself. I have the impression of being under a gigantic and invisible wave, ready to overwhelm everything that is part of my world; every root I can attach to. I know it's not like that, in the end I've always wished for the worst for myself, and now I'm calm. My wife would be happy with that.

December 14.

I've read the word Season out of its context. It is an ancient term and at the time it was used to delineate the change in temperature. I read about it in a book I bought for Jon from the merchant this morning. I had a little extra money, so I took advantage of it. From the little I read that after a few months it was warmer, then the cold returned, and then it was warmer again. Nature depended on the surrounding light and temperature, and so did people and creatures. After the war, this phenomenon disappeared. The sunlight doesn't burn anymore, the seasons change depending on the place, and so does the time of day. In the expanse of the Tartars, it is always dark, there is only sand, and it is cold. I've never been there.

In my village the climate is mild, and the light is almost evanescent, plus the only colors you see are black and white. It must have been inconceivable to an ancient one, totally out of his logic. I read that in December it usually snowed.

Jon doesn't have the flu.

December 15.

I saw the symbols on Jon's back. I transcribed them. I do not know why.

Mom. Black fingers. He does not leave the house.

They are in my language. I read just yesterday that it is told of some exorcists who managed to extinguish the disease if the symbols were in an understandable language.

I will leave during curfew when the light dims and everyone is asleep. I'll put Jon in the big backpack that I've carried when I used to travel a lot, before I got here. He should still go in there. He is nine years old but small in build. He still hasn't started screaming, so no one should notice. I'll find someone to help him, I can't do anything else. If I cannot, I'll at least try to give him the rest that ...

No. He will heal, I know, I'm sure, this is a sign, the symbols in my language. It's rare, so it will heal.