To Quiet the Little Voice - 10. The Graveyard Party

The Graveyard Party

Bobby smiled to himself. When they had moved into this place a month ago most of his friends had reacted like Paul had. No one wanted to “hang out in a freaking graveyard”. Steve had been the only one had been cool about it – he helped beat back the weeds and clean the place up, but really would rather hang in the house and pretend the neighbors were just very quiet. Most of the rest of his crowd had come around eventually too. Paul was the only guy refused to come over.

It had taken forever to get the place cleaned up. It takes a lot of vegetation to completely hide a graveyard with huge weird tombstones from the world. But now it was all trimmed back, the stones had been cleaned and polished, the shoes had be repainted a pretty Wedgwood blue, and they had even gotten a monument specialist in to drill a drain hole into the giant tuba. Mom had tossed a fit after a rainstorm when the birds started using it as their own personal swimming pool. Best of all though was the fountain mom had insisted be put in by the new parking area. Mom had always been mindful of all the various religion’s beliefs and superstitions, and said that there was one group who believed you had to wash the death off your hands and feet after visiting a grave so it did not follow you home. Her very first shopping trip once she started to feel better was to the local greenhouse and landscape supply to pick out a properly graveyardish fountain. She had dad attach a metal towel ring to each side, and put stone benches on either side of it. Bobby loved the look. It was, in his opinion, straight out of a Vincent Price movie!

Dad had gotten a new job too, things were looking up. With mom feeling better and dad working, they decided that they really did want to throw a Halloween Party in the graveyard.

So, here it was, sundown on Halloween, and everything was ready. The weather was very mild, promising a fun evening with no need of jackets covering the costumes. Bobby and his dad had worked all day to get the graveyard ready. They hung strobe lights that were linked to speakers hidden all over playing a thunderstorm. They had even put one inside the tuba with a motion sensor to trigger big band music to play as you walked past. Just as the sun passed below the horizon Bobby put the dry ice in the upper basin of the fountain, and smiled as the first of his friends were dropped off in the driveway. He straightened his Dudley Doright Mounties costume and went to say hi to his nemesis Savoir Faire. Steve was right – this was going to be one hell of a party.

                                                            ***

Everyone was having a great time. There was the usual assortment of sexy pirates and zombies, both male and female, two skeletons who managed to jump every time the tuba started to play, one guy dressed as Frankie from ‘The Rocky Horror Motion Picture Show’ with his boyfriend in a speedo playing Rocky, and a mischievous little hobbit . Even Paul had shown up, dressed as a 1600’s era puritan preacher, complete with a cross in one hand and a real bible in the other. Sometimes Bobby wondered how much of Paul’s preaching was bs and how much the kid really believed.

It was a little odd though. Out of two dozen invited guests, there wasn't a single witch.

                                                            ***

Mom had finished setting the last of the food up on the row of borrowed picnic tables and wiped her hands on the apron tied over her big skirts. Leave it to her to be the innkeeper! Dad had just put a fresh chunk of dry ice into the fountain basin, causing a thick mist of carbon dioxide gas to flow over the lip and spread out in a fog at the base, when a shadowy figure drifted up the driveway. No one had heard a car pull up to drop the woman off, and it was a shock to turn and be faced with the only witch of the evening.

Something was different about this witch though. Not only had she shown up at the tag end of the evening, she appeared to be very stiff and angry. No matter how hard Bobby looked at her he couldn't seem to figure out who she was, in spite of her not wearing a mask. He walked up to her slowly and removed his hat, bowing in grand fashion.

When he straightened he smiled at her and offered his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bobby, the host of this party. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“No, we have not. How DARE you partake of frivolity on the ground where I was persecuted, where souls are buried, where YOU DO NOT BELONG?”

“Hey! Chill out there lady. Dad’s the caretaker here, and we got permission from the cemetery society to have this party. We belong. Now, why don’t you back off the characterization a tad and tell me whose guest you are. I’ll help you find them.”

“GUEST? I am no guest. I have come to stop this fiasco.”

“Is there a problem son?” Dad, dressed as a sheriff (yeah, I know, a sheriff parent keeping peace) came over. Mom joined the group from the other direction.

“This lady getting a little too deep into character I think dad.”

“Why don’t we go sit over here and have a little talk?” Dad took the witches free arm and turned her to a grouping of currently vacant lawn chairs under the huge old sycamore tree. Leaves rustled under the witches skirt as she yanked herself away.

“I see the ‘law’ has not changed in the 200 years I have been away. You will pay, as did the last lawman to try and lay hands on me.”

The woman began to turn in a tight little circle chanting in some language Bobby did not understand, swinging the broom in her hand any time one of them tried to get close to her. Bobby ran for the house at his dad’s urging to call the police. This woman obviously was unbalanced and needed help.

Then, as the strobes went off again and the thunder from the speakers crashed the woman struck the ground hard with the broomstick. The straw head, which was upwards in her hand, burst into flame, and everything seemed to stop at once. Then, a split second later there was a shout from somewhere in the graveyard.

“Savoir Faire is EVERYWHERE!” It was not the first time Steve had uttered those words this evening, but it was the first time Bobby found them to be infuriating and he gave in to a sudden urge to track the little rat down and tie him to a tree. Now where did that come from???

All hell broke loose. Suddenly the pirates were swinging from the heavy grape vines in the trees and beating at each other with their swords, swords that were no longer plastic and wood but steel. Frankie was chasing Rocky around, between, and over the gravestones with a hungry look on his face. The hobbit was running around pulling pranks on the rest of the guest all night, but now they escalated. The skeletons looked like they were growing thinner and thinner, and they made a rattling sound every time they jumped as the tuba played. A zombie bit at the bare shoulder of one of the lady pirates, and the scream she let out sounded very real.

The biggest problem though was Paul.

He jumped up onto a wide flat headstone and began to preach at everyone. Fire and brimstone poured from him, threatening eternal damnation to all who mocked the souls of the dead on All Hallows Eve. He read from his bible and swung the cross in his other hand to punctuate the verses. He really sounded as into his character as the witch had been! Worse yet, the pirates began to pay attention.

Sheriff dad tried vainly to restore order to the unruly group, and hoped help would arrive in the form of a squad car. But Bobby had been overcome by the urge to “get his man” and track down Savoir Faire before he had made it to the phone. Momma the innkeeper was shooing people away from her with a broom. Several of the pirates, listening to Preacher Paul, began to pile small sticks and branches around the base of the tree tombstone in preparation of a witch burning. When the witch realized this she struck her burning broom on the ground again and disappeared, as the church tower bells struck midnight.

All motion stopped. People looked at each other warily. What the hell had just happened?