La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

23. Autumn's Purgatory

La Mort et ses Merveilles

Chapter 23: Autumn's Purgatory

The summer, slowly but surely, was coming to an end. There was an aura of anxiety enveloping the convent and its environs. The first winter after the collapse of society was soon going to be upon us. There was talk -among some of the sisters, and some of the folk in the Yard, that we weren't going to make it, but Mother Agnes was quick to put down these concerns.

At one of the assemblies that we had in the chapel, where all of us gathered, she tried to reassure us in a calm and composed manner. Her hands clasped in front of her robes, she addressed us from the pulpit.

"I've heard talk among us that we might not make the winter," she began. "But we must not doubt ourselves. We've already made it this far, and we cannot let all that we worked for go to waste."

I was with Leslie at that time, standing near the back. The young man seemed disinterested, leaning against the wall, chewing on a piece of gum. He chewed with his mouth open, and a few disgruntled heads nearby turned to the source of the noise, resonating from the small corner of the chapel. I had to glare at him for the young man to stop.

"We have to have faith in God," Mother Agnes preached. "And we have to have faith in ourselves."

In the corner of my vision, I noticed Leslie rolling his eyes. I left the chapel with my boyfriend once we were all dismissed, with a sense of anxiety in my stomach, doubtful of the coming winter.

Of course, Leslie and I didn't get to be intimate with each other a lot, since with the summer heat slowly fading away, we were all busier than ever trying to stockpile for the cold months. There was always vegetables to harvest or firewood to be chopped. We needed firewood -lots of it.

Whatever time we had alone together, I tried to make the best of it. It could be just cuddling, sitting beside each other listening to music, or even just eating breakfast at our table. It was little things like these that made me happy. But there was something in Leslie's blue eyes. Something that told me he wanted more.

The both of us were in the bell tower, looking out into the meadows to the south. It was just another typical fall afternoon -the sky was as blue as ever, a plain canvas against the landscape of autumn trees in the west, their leaves in various hues of red, orange and yellow. It's funny how I've always found fall the most beautiful season, when in reality it was nothing but death. Death in every tree. Death in every falling leaf.

Death can be many things -scary, poignant, ugly, beautiful.

"You see anything, blondie?" I heard Leslie say as he walked up to me.

"Nothing interesting," I replied. "But I guess that's a good sign."

"It sure is," he said as he walked up beside me.

A chilly breeze blew into the belltower, causing a eerie hollow sound in the metal bell. Sure, it happened quite a few times already, but everytime it did, it never failed to send a rattle down my spine.

Sure, I enjoyed being with Leslie and all, but my mind was elsewhere. I was worried sick.

The vicodin from the stockpile had been dwindling. For how long, I didn't know. And not because Josephine was giving them out for folk with killer headaches. If it was, we'd know, since we record all the medicine that leaves the infirmary.