Chapter 7-- Forbidden Fruits, Ripe for the Picking
On a breezy, late November afternoon, atop a hill overlooking the quaint, quiet small town of Easton, sits Jericho Parish- an unassuming little chapel with antiquated stone walls. In the grassy courtyard scattered with aged graves and moss-covered tombstones surrounding the humble little church, an utterance of solemn prayer drifts through the crisp autumn air:
"Heavenly Father, we beseech thee..."
A slim elderly man with hair and full beard in strands of silvery white, garbed in a long black robe and ivory-white cuffs, stands in front of a newly erected headstone: a small, flat rectangular shaped piece of granite engraved with the words:
In Memory of Colette Graystone
, tucked snugly in the midst of a fresh grassy patch.
He continues his oration in a gruff yet gentle voice, a stoic and grizzled look on his face, a glimmer of sharpness shone in his old, gentle eyes. Standing next to him, Kazelle has her head down in solemn silence, her long black leather coat rippling about in the wind, her hands closed over the black metallic cross on her neckchain.
"May the soul of this dearly departed one... Find eternal rest in you. Amen."
"Amen."
As the elderly priest concludes his verbal offering, Kazelle echoes his final utterance.
"Thanks again for doing this, Father Silas." Kazelle keeps her eyes fixed on Colette's headstone as she addresses the man next to her with some degree of calm reverence. The old man lowers the black cross in his grip and dons his black wide-brimmed hat.
"No need for thanks, child. Is this not my duty as overseer of this parish? And I can tell this lass meant a great deal to you..." He turns to leave, a charcoal-black metallic cross swinging from his long neck chain. He leaves her with a final word as he shuffles toward the church.
"If you still wish to make confession, I will be in the parish. Don't stay out here too long, there's rain in the forecast."
"Yes, Father."
Just then, a few small children come frolicking up the hill. The one in front, a sapphire-eyed girl with long golden hair, skips up to Kazelle with a handful of wild flowers.
"These are for your friend, Kazelle, so she won't be lonely. We picked them in the woods over there."
"Thank you, Sapphire."
As Kazelle takes the yellow and pink flowers and stoops down to lay them in front of the headstone, she reaches out and gently traces a finger through the engraving of Colette's name.
"There is something I need to do right now, Cole... I'll be sure to visit you again soon." She rises and turns to depart. The flower petals flutter in the wind against the grave.
"
Death!
♫"
Step...
"♪
Death comes for us all!
♬"
Step...
"
Oooh ♪ Yeeah
♪"
Step...
"
Sweeeeet death
!! ♫"
On a makeshift stage at the Halloween Festival in Eastford Cemetery Park, the
Maniac Minstrels
jams away while the crowd howls its approval.
"
Embrace my sooooul!!
♫♬"
To the left side of the band leader, Kazelle is rocking away on her electric guitar, dressed in a white schoolgirl dress shirt, short plaid skirt, and knee-high striped socks- all tattered and bloodied. Her long raven locks falls behind her white ghoulish face, covered with dark bloody veins and chunks of decaying flesh, her mouth dripping with dark red foam. The crowd lets out one final, deafening roar as the piece reaches its metallic crescendo and slams home the finale.
"Good job, mates. I think we fuckin' nailed it."
As the group takes a bow and retreats backstage, Kean has a look of immense triumph. The band mates all concur that it was a spectacular success as they pack their instruments. Kazlle tucks her electric guitar into the case and slings it over her shoulder.
"Kazelle, not coming to have a drink with us?" Female bassist Jethra Wilson, wearing a pair of bunny ears for the festivities, inquires as Kazelle prepares to head out.
"Ah, sorry. I'm meeting with my roommate. Catch you guys later."
Kazelle bids her crew farewell and ducks into the cemetery grounds, packed with booths and costumed partygoers amidst old crumpling catacombs and sepulchres that would be dead silent any other night of the year.
"My, what a wicked show! I think I'm in love!"
"Ah, Cole. There you are." Kazelle turns around and spots Colette emerging from the crowd, wearing a tight-fitting, strapless gray tube dress with designs of a screen and buttons of an old game console printed across the front. She saunters over to her punk rock idol in a pair of running shoes and white knee-high socks, a shimmering pendant dances around her neck, a bright pink star face-painted on her left cheek.
"Haha, well, Kean and his girlfriend Jethra were the ones who wrote all the songs. I just had to play my part... Love the costume by the way, dressing up as a game console is wicked retro!"
"Hehe, glad you like it. That ghoul face looks brilliant as well!"
Hearing Colette say that, Kazelle blushes sheepishly.
"Haha, isn't that a compliment for yourself? You were the one who spent two hours doing my make-up... By the way, where is that assistant professor friend of yours? Weren't you coming together?"
The inquiry suddenly has Colette in a somber mood, she glances down with a sulking pout and digs at the dirt with the tip of her shoe.
