The Fires Of Chaos

The Fires of Chaos

By

Frederick Jacobb

Chapter I

The Last Winter

Dawn was peeking over the damp hillsides of Wiltonshire, a quiet town small enough that if a traveler does not stop to ask where they were, they could just easily pass it by without knowing it. There is really nothing much of interest in such a small community, apart from being obscure and unimportant. The townsfolk here simply go about their daily work, particularly planting barley which is harvested and taken to the breweries to make malt liquor. Winter is fast approaching as the first chilly breeze creeps all throughout the countryside, creeping slowly, as the trees show signs of withering. The birds have also started to take to the skies, fluttering away to find a warmer place of refuge, just in time as their offspring’s had already learned to stretch their wings and have taken their first flight, escaping the oncoming winter spell, as Death is surely to follow in his slow pace. Winter may look enticing with its white blanket of glistening, snowy gems, but its beauty also means a sure death.

Cold and frost bitten, the beauty of winter beckons along with an ambiguous feeling of loneliness, slumbering across the meadows and plains of a once fertile landscape. The first winter breeze has arrived indeed, as many people who live in Wiltonshire start to roundup their livestock and last harvest for the end season. Along the once bustling town center, a horse drawn carriage unloads the last crate of provisions as preparations for a long and cold winter season, as the first snow clouds start to cross above the mountainside and makes its presence felt. Not far from the town hall, a faint sound of a church bell is heard, but it is not for a mass or any other churchly occasion.

The church bells were ringing but it was not like that of any usual tone. No, it sounded dreary. It was for a funeral. As the first rays of the sun started to light the dark countryside, a small crowd had already gathered in the church, it was indeed a funeral. A chilly breeze made its way inside the church where Father McKenzie was officiating the last rite on a dead man's coffin. Father McKenzie slowly moved over the coffin as he anointed it with holy water, and made the final sign of the cross. A funeral entourage was waiting outside of the church, patiently standing despite of the chill, waiting for the doors to swing open, as the bells began to ring out, and with a sad tone.

Slowly, the church doors opened, slowly creaking, as a gentle chilly, frost laden breeze rushes through the door, racing towards the aisle, as if Death himself came in, helping the pallbearers move the coffin out. People outside the churchyard started to gather, lining up as the coffin of the dead man passed them by. Some onlookers had a saddened look, others were there just to watch, but did they personally know who was inside the coffin? Would they really care if they knew the departed? As the coffin was placed on top of the carriage, a man asked Father McKenzie who was it that died. Father McKenzie looked at the man and said in a crackling voice, Cedric Williams as the priest continued to walk towards the waiting funeral procession.

Father McKenzie remembered Cedric as a baby when he was baptized, as he was the one who officiated the baptism. As the funeral procession entered the town square, Harold Plum, the mayor of Wiltonshire, was looking out on top from the balcony of his office, clutching a lit cigar in his right hand and billowing out a smoke. He looked down below to see the passing funeral march and paused to view the passing entourage, he saw some familiar faces, mostly friends and family members trudging alongside, on their way to Hammond Hill, a cemetery on the hilly outskirts of Wiltonshire. Among the people who were going to Hammond Hill was Joseph Hedges, Cedric William's childhood friend.

As they passed by a field with a large oak tree, memories started to comeback as Joseph recalls the countless summer afternoons that they spent frolicking under that big old tree. Joseph suddenly remembered those times when they would bring Cedric’s violin and his cello up on the branches as they played songs until the sun disappeared below the horizon as the first evening stars appeared, only then that they'd stop playing and would come down and headed home for the evening. Ah yes, there were good memories that were made underneath that old oak tree, and today it bears witness to the final passing of the  funeral procession of Cedric Williams.

Upon reaching Hammond Hill, Joseph Hedges goes down from his carriage, looking around for Cedric’s widow, Lucinda, who was already following the funeral procession to the top of the hill. The cemetery of Hammond Hill, despite of its morbid and harrowing demeanor, along with a kind of eerie serenity, was obviously the last respite for weary and tired souls. It may not be noticed now, since winter has almost arrived and most of the foliage has withered and died, but during the spring, up to the summer time, Hammond Hill is filled with meadow blossoms, covered in patches of different floral colours, giving it a sort of accentuated contrast of hues, which if not for the presence of the tomb stones, would make Hammond Hill a pleasant place to let one's thoughts fleet away, if you don't mind the presence of the dead underneath you that is.

As the funeral march finally reached the top of the hill, Father McKenzie takes one last look at Cedric’s coffin and raises his hand as he gestures the sign of the cross. Family and friends gather at the gravesite, each and everyone has their own personal thought regarding the departed, but no one else has a more noticeable expression that stands out but that of the widow herself, Lucinda Williams. Lucinda was with her three children, all boys that were now in their early manhood, all of whom she bore from Cedric. As a widow, nothing can be more fitting and compelling than to show grief, but not Lucinda, who was not even shedding a single tear, and was hidden underneath a widow's veil of mourning, instead of grieving, she was looking quite acrogenous and the people who were attending Cedric’s burial noticed it, too obviously.

No handkerchief, no tears and no sobbing, just a widow, wearing a veil, black as the night, but with eyes peering within the confines of her shadowy stare. In her hands were some roses, crimson as the colour of blood, and her hands were slightly trembling, but it wasn't for the passing of the husband that she loved, no, it was because she is consumed with anger, anger to the point of hatred. The people there were quite silent as the priest was pronouncing the last passages from the holy book, as Father McKenzie finally said ashes to ashes and dust to dust Friends and family started to slowly come forward, gathering around the coffin as it was slowly being lowered into the ground, and on each of their hands, a rose, which they all took turns in placing over Cedric’s coffin.

Joseph Hedges was a bit teary eyed as he placed a rose onto of Cedric’s coffin, as he pulled out an old cloth with something inside of it. It was a four leaf clover which Cedric found on top of a mound where the old oak tree grew. He remembered that particular day when Cedric gave it to him and said it might bring him luck. It was also on that particular day that Cedric conferred to Joseph about his own personal thoughts about marrying Lucinda Travis, in which Joseph said to Cedric that it was all up to him. Now it seems that all of those memories have finally culminated here, on this sad day of mourning. Joseph placed the cloth with the four leaf clover in it, as he leaned towards the coffin to say his final words to his departed friend. Farewell Cedric my old friend, may you find peace. With that being said, Joseph laid his hands over the coffin as if giving his friend one last pat on the back while Lucinda looked at Joseph from a distance with utter discontent.

Joseph saw how Lucinda was looking at him and started to walk towards her, disregarding how he had an ominous feeling that Lucinda knew the secret he was keeping from her that Cedric confided to Joseph just before he died. That was the sole reason of Lucinda's anger for Cedric that led to her evident hatred for Cedric’s friend as well. Men, all scheming and conniving dogs, which was what Lucinda had swirling inside of her head. Joseph was reluctant at first to even go to Lucinda, even though it was an honest and sincere gesture of extending his condolences to his friend's bereaved widow. Joseph knew all too well how Lucinda felt at the moment as there were times that he himself was witness to confrontations between his friend and Lucinda to which these  marital altercations sometimes became violent that he had to step in between them.

As Joseph came near Lucinda and her sons, he extended his hand to hold Lucinda's, which she, to Joseph's surprise, willingly grasped. My condolences to you and your family Lucinda, Cedric genuinely loved you Joseph said. Did he Joseph? replied Lucinda, in which Joseph was caught as if he was a game animal caught in a trap on Lucinda's response. Joseph would have instantly let go of Lucinda's hand and would have also taken a step back to avoid Lucinda's growing discontent but Lucinda was tightly clutching Joseph's hand, not letting him escape her grasp. Joseph looked elsewhere, trying to avoid Lucinda's piercing stare, so sharp were her eyes along with her anger that if she looked into the sun long enough, the sun would eventually cower and hide in fear. Don't start Lucinda, not here, not now as Joseph slowly loosened Lucinda's tight grip on his arms without attracting the attention of other people, as friends and family were approaching them to give their earnest condolences. As this was going on, visibly not far from the graveyard, a woman and a man were looking from under the shade of a tree from a distance. A gentle breeze started to roll over Hammond Hill and along with that, it started to bring in the first snowflakes of the last winter of Cedric Williams.

Chapter II

Two Worlds Collide

After a few funeral goers had started to leave, Lucinda, her sons and Joseph, along with Father McKenzie were left as they watched the undertakers pour back the soil into the ground where Cedric’s coffin rested. Peering from underneath the shades of some partly withering trees was a woman, who along with a man behind her, came out and started walking towards the gravesite. She made her way across the shadows of the trees, as the snow gently started to fall. She walked past the tombstones as a chilly breeze followed behind her. From a distance, Lucinda saw from her peripheral view, a silhouette of a woman approaching the grave. She thought to herself that it was just somebody who was visiting a grave of a relative or a loved one, but when she veered to the direction of the approaching stranger, she stopped. A few steps away from them, a woman was standing, wearing clothes that were not commonly seen in these parts of Wiltonshire, in fact, not even common to this country!

She was a Gypsy, and a beautiful one at that! She was also wearing a veil, similar to that worn by mourners, and her oval eyes, similar to those of an angel were also filled with tears. Was she a relative, thought Father McKenzie? Joseph Hedges saw the woman who had stopped just a few steps in front of them and he immediately recognized her, it was Serra Del Marre, as Joseph walked briskly towards her and said to the woman, What are you doing here!? in a alarming voice. Serra slowly parted her veil, letting the light of the sun shine on her face and letting Joseph see her eyes, eyes that were filled with tears, having a certain look of yearning and begging to be permitted to approach the grave in which Cedric laid. Upon seeing the Gypsy woman's face, Lucinda slowly turned towards the woman, trudging slowly, and hands clinched, wanting to lay a slap on the woman's face, when right that instant, Father McKenzie stepped in between the two women, turning to look at Serra Della Marre and Lucinda Williams. Not on these hallowed grounds and for the sake of Cedric’s soul quipped Father McKenzie.

Lucinda, though still filled with anger, timidly drew back at the behest of the priest. Meanwhile, Joseph was also prohibiting Serra from moving on further with her wanting to be close to Cedric’s grave, that he had to block her path. Serra calmly stepped back and said to Joseph, I just want to see him for the very last time, and so would his son as Serra pointed to a boy that the man behind her was carrying. Joseph stood back and hesitantly turned toward Lucinda, knowing that Serra and the boy's presence would further agitate the widow's anger. She just came to see Cedric for the very last time, and to say goodbye to him sighed Joseph. Lucinda already had her suspicions on who the woman was but she suddenly grew pale when she found out that there was a boy with the woman. Lucinda's anger suddenly withdrew to fear, a kind of fear that she can never deny, as this was the reality of what was presently happening. Lucinda's anger cowered, the chilly breeze that came along with the first snowflakes made Lucinda numb, numb enough to run a chill up her spine, a fear that she dared not to confront.  A young boy about two years of age, with a face resembling that of Cedric Williams.

Lucinda stood motionless, not being able to move a foothold, as Serra and the boy approached the grave. Serra lifted the boy in her arms and silently cried. Tears fell down from Serra's face unlike that of Lucinda, who never shed a single tear to honour the passing of her husband. Serra held the boy in her arms and said, Say goodbye to your Father, Rorick as the boy, though still young for his age, turned to look at the casket lying in the ground and started to cry as well, embracing his mother for comfort. As Serra and his son were saying their farewells, Joseph asked the undertakers to wait until everybody had gone before they continue to finish up their job, telling them to comeback later. FatherMcKenzie approached Serra and said He is at peace now, all that is left are the memories of loved ones, be happy that his struggles are over