The Adventures of Queen Draqueesha and the Undead Composer Mozart

Chapter 2 - Funerals are no fun

Queen Draqueesha sat on her bed in her dorm, wearing a black dress she didn't want to, for a funeral she didn't want to go to. Her ex-boyfriend, Fred Dwayne Frank, FDF for short, had died the week prior. Instead of mourning for him, she regretted ever dating him. It briefly occurred to her that she might be a bad person, but then she realised that the only person who ever really liked him was her father. Her father was so insufferable that he could only spend time with people who were as bad as, or worse than him. Queen Draqueesha's father was of Asian origin, but he insisted on acting like Draqueesha's mum, who he longed for constantly.

She stood up, straightened out her dress, and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Her dark skin shone like onyx because of the expensive vanilla scrub she enjoyed using. Her curly and frizzy black mane had been swept up into a semi elegant bun. She looked critically at her hooked nose and square chin, which she had never liked. Looking away, she left the room and walked past everyone in the hallway, ignoring the stares and murmurs. Draqueesha thought it was because of FDF's death, but really everyone was mocking her quietly. And for good reason too, for Draqueesha played the viola. And this was a prestigious music school. Violists did not belong anywhere, let alone music schools. Though the school claimed they needed a violist to fill out the orchestra, they all knew that Draqueesha's dad was the one who paid for her way through the school.

Queen Draqueesha passed the music rooms and teachers quietly, attempting to look sad and subdued for that would have been an appropriate emotional response. She was too busy for nonsense like visiting a grave. Who asked that idiot to get his toast out with a fork anyway? And plus he was eating white bread. If he hadn't done something as stupid, he proably would have died of diabetes. And so Draqueesha walked across the campus, thoroughly irritated. The mist settled around her and made her hair frizz like mad. She reached the parking lot and climbed into her Jaguar, settling comfortably into the seat. It was a long drive after all. Reaching out she flicked the seat warmers on.

She drove to St. Marx Cemetery, hardly glancing at the beautiful Austrian scenery that was beautiful through her highly polished window. She passed the chapel and turned into the road, her car making hardly more than a purr. She stood up and got outside. She thanked the lord that her car was silver, and not black. She would hate for it to be mistaken for a hearse.

There were many processions around, but she was too late for FDF's. A few weeks late, actually. She had been abroad for the past month. In and out, that was her policy. She strode to the correct grave number and gazed at the tombstone. It was highly polished marble; she could see her face reflected in it. Her brown eyes looked back at her coldly. She placed her hand on the top, the white marble contrasting sharply with her coffee toned skin. On the tombstone it said "FDF 1995-2015. For all the ships that never sailed" she smiled a little at that. He was a fangirl till the end. Draqueesha turned around to leave, she was starting to feel sad, and that would just not do.

She walked through the rows of stones, they ranged from tall to short. She passed families clutching each other's hands tightly. She passed tombstones with flowers piled so high she could hardly see the inscriptions. She could see tall memorials, extravagant but abandoned. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the mass graves. One memorial stood there, tall and proud. Mozart's. It was empty today, Monday mornings were inconvenient times to bury the dead bodies after all. It made her feel a little sad to see just one memorial, she thought of all the other people who were buried there as well, never to receive a plaque or an oath. She wondered if that would be her, never to be remembered, never of the greats. Just a mouldy pile of bones nobody cared about. She played the viola for God's sake.

She walked over to the grave, and knelt there.

"Oh spirit of music, grant me with thy knowledge. Bless me, I beg thee!" She wasn't sure why she used 'thee' or 'thy'. It sounded more official somehow. She didn't feel any different though.