The people were gathered around the place people look away from on any other day. One of the two places.
Both locations are rather common place, as every city must have them, and this town, like any other, walk past them mostly without a glance on days unlike this one. The first of these places being Heaven's Door cemetery where the Godly people of the Massachusetts colony are put to rest when their time comes. However, if that's where the people here would have been gathered, judging by their expressions it would almost be a happy occasion in comparison. But no, these people are gathered at the second location. The prison. Outside it to be exact.
The spectators looked upon the door, Hell's Gate as they called it, awaiting the reveal of the fresh scar on their Puritan society.
The odd thing about Hell's Gate was that instead of a grim reaper standing to the side of it like was pictured in their theology books, there was a blooming rose bush which seemed to grow of it's own accord. The thorny greenery of the thing wouldn't seem so out of place if it weren't for the fragrant flowers that perched atop it at random intervals.
Now, as our story begins at this guard's threshold it only seems right to present a blossom to the reader in hopes it will foreshadow an outcome as beautiful as summer's fresh bloom, but if it shall not than may it serve to relieve a small bit of of the sorrow that the reader would endure along with that whom steps forth.
A/N: In my English class we are reading The Scarlet Letter and by chapter 4 the book is screaming MEGSTIEL at me, so that is the form with which this plot bunny has attacked me! Since I don't know how the story past chapter 4 goes in the actual book this may or may not stick close by it, but I'm going to try to balance the beautiful language of the novel, and actually being able to understand what I am writing in this fic. So I hope that you enjoy wherever this goes!