It had been a long day, but Mother War told me I had one more job to do. We were getting extra parades more and more often now. My agenda had said, “Gerard Way-last minute parade: Samuel Aziel-cancer patient”. I checked his records, and after seeing them, I absolutely had to welcome this last soul tonight. He was 21, and had died of a tumor in his heart. He had an unclear background, which made me so intrigued. It’s really rare that anyone has a past that isn’t through with them. Anyway, his soul should be entering the parade in a few minutes. There was just enough time for me to get on the float for my vocal exercises. I took a quick look in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look as tired as I felt. My silver hair was cut in a very military style, as Mother War requested. My large eyes, made larger by my small mouth and nose, were a deep hazel and looked more saggy than usual. I tried to make myself look more awake, with little success. If I looked too tired to Mikey, my little brother and bass guitar player, he would worry. And I, being able to read people’s emotions just by being near them, would be getting his waves of anxiety throughout the whole routine. Not anyone’s idea of fun. Whatever. He would just have to deal with me being tired for this performance. I hopped on the float, and checked to make sure everything looked okay. The float rarely had problems, but we were always supposed to be “on the lookout”. The gigantean, magnificent, float was as huge as a football field. It supported two black platforms, the bottom one, where I sang, and the upper level, where my band played. Both platforms had red and white rose trims and skirts, and at the bottom platform, they intertwined to make the shape of a skull. It was so intricate and decorative that it never got old to look at. The Band and our float had been here for as long as anyone could remember. We had been souls at one point, early on. But then we knew our roles. Not to progress, just to remain, and to greet the newly dead. I did the mandatory role check of my band. Mikey was there, polishing his bass. Frank and Ray, the guitarists, were talking to Fear and Regret, the regulators of the parade, and the creators of their namesake emotions in the world. Bob, the drummer, was talking to Mother War. She was tall, and her huge, blonde, frizzy, hair only added to her height. She always donned her eighteenth-century style corseted dress and her signature gas mask. Mother War was the woman who ran the whole show, decided when each soul would pass through the tunnel, and made sure that no one entered without their records. The records told what the person had done in their life, and when their parade was. I looked ahead to see the person with the mysterious record. He must have caught the ending of the last parade, as I saw him in the distance, and his appearance shocked me. He was in a papery hospital gown, with his bony arms bare. His face was long with a thin mouth and small nose, with thick, black, sweeping, hair that ended just above his attention grabbing eyes. They were dark, sunken-in, and startlingly amber. Rarely did we see people who had actual color in their eyes. The only colors we have here are varying shades of black, white, and grey, with the exception of the red float. His eyes were so vibrant in his pupils, but I could read on how full of sadness they were. However, as he looked like any other patient, there was something special about him. He was the first one in a century to be ready. Just ready for what was to come. I read his emotions, but he was not frightened, scared, or shivering, simply a wanting…for something. What do people want after death? All I knew was to greet, but normal souls? I could never be sure. I walked up to him and told him that he had passed on, and that he was about to be properly welcomed into the afterlife.
“Well then, Samuel! Do you have any questions?” I usually try to be cheery to new souls. It usually helps them transition from life to afterlife.
“Is this Heaven or Hell?”
Whoa, never mind about transitioning, this guy got straight to the point. “It’s neither. This is the place where you wait for the rest of your fate to be determined. When Mother War completes the judge mentation of you, she’ll decide when and where you get sent, and who will take you. There are many places you can go, you see? Heaven and Hell are just the more popular two. There are a lot of in-betweens that are made for souls who wouldn’t fit in Heaven or Hell. The more difficult you are to place, the longer you stay here, and be a part of the parade. ”
“How difficult is my placing?”
“Extremely difficult.” That might have been too harsh. I tried to backpedal. “I mean, as you had very little time to prove yourself. The few deeds you did were good, but not heavenly, and the number of places you’d fit in are numerous.”
“What do I do?”
Okay, this guy was all business no chill. Probably what you get from a life of disease. “You, Samuel, are going to be one of the souls welcoming the new ones. You get to be behind the float, singing our anthem as the next soul arrives.”
“What anthem?, the one you were singing as I-?”
“-Walked in? Yes. You came early. But, The Black Parade, name of our band and the parade itself, sings the anthem to welcome the souls. By the way, the anthem is titled “Welcome to The Black Parade”, but we usually just call this whole deal ‘BP’.”
Samuel’s ears perked up as the sound of Bob’s drums filled the air. Alright, the float was coming, and I left Samuel in front of the float, hopped up on the base, grabbed my microphone, and began to sing. “When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band…”

Notes

Update! there will be more... please comment, and thanks to @falloutlies for inspiring me! this first chapter is dedicated to you! *hugs and kisses