Lacrimosa

Prologue: Forbidden Vanities

October 31st, 1984
Oaksbury, Pennsylvania

Beneath the almost full moon and the smell of crisp autumn in the air, the small town echoes with the laughter of children. It conceals the secret mumbles of shy teenagers holding hands as they whisper forbidden secrets.

Though the chill of winter hangs in the air and the piles of coloured leaves turn to brown with each passing day, the rosy red cheeks and sweet treats floating through the square announce only one thing. It is not only Autumn, a time of carefree celebration, but it is October 31st.

Rosalie Andrews is as happy as anyone that night. She is nothing short of beautiful, her ordinary chestnut hair gathered at the top of her head and replaced with long curly blonde locks. At only fifteen, it is the first time she is free to celebrate the festivities in a world that scowls upon Halloween.

A rural village located in the middle of communities of Amish and Mennonite farmers, Oaksbury is a community known by those who shun things such as electricity and automobiles as secular. For a teenager there, it is anything but typical. Rosalie often calls it "the most boring place God put on the map."

Oaksbury is a place where conservative values, an honest day's work, and church every Sunday reign supreme. The children still finish their studies early, and both the boys and girls are expected to take on a family trade instead of leaving home for college. Most marry young and have large families. Those who choose to abandon family in favour of a more worldly experience are only ever spoken of in hushed, disappointed tones.

Rosalie longs to leave. She doesn't dare to become one of those who doesn't exist. The thought makes her tear up. No matter how boring the place, and how annoying it is that she isn't allowed to do anything she considers fun, she can't bear to break her parents' hearts.

Instead, she stands like a little Tinkerbelle, sporting blonde curls and a colourful blue and purple tutu she once wore in a ballet recital. Colourful wings, sparkly shoes, and a wand that dispenses glittered confetti complete the look, although her legs are freezing even beneath the long thick tights that cover her legs. She keeps an eye on the children as they run and play, and especially those her age who try to sneak into the old red schoolhouse behind her for some privacy.

Rosalie is a portrait of joy, handing out apples, figs, and raisins to those who pass by. She also includes a poof of glitter that accompanies her best faerie imitation, which is more reminiscent of Glinda The Good Witch. That costume would have been warmer, but dressing like a witch on Halloween is the sort of sin punished harshly.

The teenager knows she is pushing the envelope dressing up at all, but she wants the little ones to know there is no harm in the fun. Even if the Halloween celebration is always at the red church that lurks behind the schoolhouse like an imposing reminder of order and punishment, there are still ways to brighten up a world that suffers from being too austere.

Children should be allowed to be children, Rosalie thinks to herself. It never occurs to her that she is little more than that herself.

She considers herself very lucky. Out of all the girls who'd applied, she was the one selected to be the apprentice to Miss Ada, the old spinster who'd taught the younger children inside the red schoolhouse for as long as anyone could remember. Most definitely, Miss Ada had been training children for as long as Rosalie had been alive.

She giggles to herself as she thinks of Miss Ada's face and how it resembles the unappealing figs Rosalie is giving out instead of candy.

A little boy of about six runs past the young woman. He sports a cape and a pair of plastic fangs that glow in the dark. He has a little red bow tie and a white mask that covers half of his face. Rosalie thinks he looks adorable, but she also has no desire to see him decorated in bright red welts the next day.