The Initials | Nanowrimo 2023

0| Prologue Two

In the woods they say all news has a way of carrying, face to face, over tea, through private messages, you name it. If there's something to say, entire towns will know about it given enough time and if you're not careful it can get you into some serious trouble.

For as long as he can remember, Cloud grew up being told that no secret was safe in the town of Silver Oak, but that wasn't, and still isn't, exactly true.

Small towns like theirs may share the same grating charms, like their cosy little store fronts and annual celebratory events that no one outside their border has ever heard of. And if you pay close enough attention, you can see them, the stories, playing out by themselves.

But that's exactly why he chooses to ignore the easy news. Rumours. After all, their only purpose is to distract, confuse, and help hide the poison that has been killing their town since forever.

The Church of Babylon had their claws in the Grace family long before Freya was even born, starting with both parents, mother first and then father...until it was too late.

"...bless this grave, and send your holy angel to watch over it."

Cloud likes to believe that the heavens are watching, that they cry as he cries, that the sudden storm clouds are proof of that.

Her coffin is lowered into the ground, the casket spray overflowing with red and white flowers as guests throw their own in after her.

But he keeps his wilting lilies, twisting them in-between his fingers and holding them up to his face as it showers, sticking his brunette curls to the side of his face whilst water tumbles off the end of his nose, looking pale with dark shadow underneath his puffy eyes, drained of his coloured and looking just as grey as the sky.

Funerals are a suit and tie event but Cloud barely even rolled himself out of bed; his shirt left untucked and crushed at the back, his tie a little crooked and his hair a mess, not to mention how the sleeves of his suit are a little long, the material bunching up when he tucks his hands into his pockets.

They were handing out umbrellas but he refused to take one, too lost and numb to care when this was partly his fault for failing to help.

Things could have been so very different.

It wasn't supposed to go like this at all.

He spends a little while considering wether or not to let go of his flowers, faltering after his first attempt, holding back when the disruptive murmurings of a growing commotion draws his attention.

Who would make her day about themselves?

Cloud isn't the only one who appears to be interested in finding out, noticing others looking over at Freya's father chasing away the guys from their Church that just arrived in the same beat up truck whilst his wife tries but fails at holding him back.

He takes a swing and socks one of the guys in the face, forcing innocent bystanders from both sides to intervene before things turn into an all out brawl.

"Bradley, stop!"

"Why are you defending them?" he yells, saliva flying from his mouth whilst his face turns red from effort. "They killed our daughter!"

"Bradley, stop, you're embarrassing yourself! This isn't what-"

"-Don't you dare!" he spits, shrugging off the guys in suits holding him back, almost slipping in a muddy puddle. "Enough!"

"Brad-"

"-No! I said enough! You don't get to use my daughter like that...no...not anymore!" he declares, turning back to get the last of his frustrations out. "And you know what. Tell the mayor he knows where to stuff his condolences, alright. I'm done, I'm out!"

So it seems that her father finally sees the Church of Babylon for what they truly are but Cloud's sympathy can extend only so far.

After all, he must have had his suspicions about what they were doing to her, even if he himself wasn't directly responsible for the torment they put her through.

How could he not know?

"Dude, let's get out of here." Casey utters, placing a hand on his shoulder when he remains unresponsive. "Bro?"

"Yeah..." he whispers, batting away the rain and his tears before tucking the pair of lilies into his breast pocket. "You're right."

Cloud and his friends take Casey's car to the funeral reception being held at the local Diner, Charlie's, their favourite spot in town.

Its retro aesthetic with its red neon lights, functioning jukebox and chequered tiles always made it stand out like a sore thumb to anyone driving into town, making it impossible to miss.

In many ways it was their home away from home...but not today. Today everything is silent, no laughing, just a bunch of people hunched over inside cushioned booths, looking idly out of the windows at the terrible weather, and not really sure what to do with themselves.

"Things are looking bad out there." Charlie remarks, appearing at their booth seemingly out of nowhere, smoothing out thick grey hairs of his beard that he keeps well groomed. He's thin in the face but not in a sickly way and his voice is always so soft and reassuring, even when he's telling you something you might not want to hear.

"Hey Charlie."

"I'm sorry for your loss. I know Freya was very important to all of you."

No one on the table responds at first so Sky clears her throat, taking the responsibility on her shoulders. "Thank you for your kind words. It was very nice of you to host."

"It was nothing." he replies, dismissing her praise. "It's just a pity, truly."

Whilst they share a few more words between themselves, Cloud can't help repeat the sentiment inside his mind.

A pity?

Is that truly all she is now?