The Black Parade

Chapter One

The Parade

The boy knew of his father's gnawing worry. He could tell by the way he squeezed his hand, the way he said goodnight, an edge to his voice that betrayed a troubled mind. The boy didn't know quite know how to react and so remained quiet upon the matter. He saw more than his father thought he did and understood the larger scheme of life in a way that few adults do, let alone ten year old children.

 Every now and then with seemingly random occurrence the boys pastel eyes would see in colour, single objects, very often people, in excruciatingly vibrant hues which would sear themselves across his vision as lightning, giving the child a painful view of astonishing beauty in his drab world. On other days the solid world of sharp edged black and grey seemed to slip as the boy fell through the floor of sanity, familiar objects turned dark and foreboding, an invisible wind blowing smears of black from their sides like watercolour paint spreading into clear water. When he was smaller and knew no better he would tell his father about these sights, eyes glassy in wonder at recounting them only to receive questions laden with stifling anxiety and trips to a child psychologist. The boy never spoke a word of what he saw to anyone anymore and was managing to hold up a smeared mask of normality.

The outing to the city, watching the parade, was the day he let himself slip.

The father's hand, calloused and clammy gripped the boy's small one tightly as he led them through the crowd. A great many people has assembled along the sides of the street to watch the procession, it was a lively event that rarely took place due to lack of funding and so was a rare spectacle. The boy was overwhelmed with smells of street food and barks of raucous laughter that exploded from gangs of teenagers who huddled in groups on the side-lines. He stayed close to his father, feeling lonely and vulnerable in the celebration of colour taking place before his blank eyes.  After fighting their way down the street for a few more meters, the father decided on their viewing position. There was a small decorative stone wall circling an oak tree on the verge which was the perfect viewing place for this occasion; most of the prime spots facing the road were already occupied, but racing over with the boy in tow he was able to secure the last vacant place on the left which still offered an excellent vantage on the parade.

They sat on the cold brick wall for a while, waiting in earnest of the event to come. The boy sat with his head down and shoulders hunched, leaning heavily on his father for comfort and warmth. Looking around gingerly his stomach dropped as the sharp edges of the surrounding flats began to blur, iridescent black tendrils curling into the white overcast sky like oil into milk. This used to happen often and the boy had developed shaky coping strategies against the strange episodes. It had been a few months since his last one and the boy was scared he had forgotten. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his small fists, the boy willed for it to stop, just stop! This was supposed to be a good day, a trip with his father in the city, a happy experience.

But what was happiness besides the absence of pain?

Slowly he opened his eyes, finding the world in its original state and relaxing, just as the first notes of the band could be heard on the wind. Suddenly excited, the boy stood up and moved forward into the road slightly to get a better look, his father also stood up and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. His son's small face was stricken with awe as he glimpsed the first float crawling round the corner. It was grey with violent red fringing holding up swathes of crimson fabric in a soft w shapes around its perimeter. In the centre at the front was grinning Mexican sugar skull, decorated with glittering black rhinestones. Apon the float stood a motley crew of a marching band all dressed in dark military jackets and Halloween style make-up. The few on the platform played trumpets and drums while others who trailed behind it clashed symbols and blew saxophones. A leader marched confidently before the float, dressed in matching uniform but distinguished by a tall hat topped with a huge crimson feather. He twirled a baton topped with a skull to the music, ever so often throwing it, glittering into the air and catching it perfectly with a smile. As he trooped past, the strange figure struck eye contact with the boy, winking in amusement at the look of astonishment on the child's face and then turning with a flourish round the corner.