By Jennifer Green

Jennifer Green

The Bride

Tarika looked at her reflection in the tall mirror. Sapphire blue eyes stared back at her, admiring her beautiful white gown. Her skin seemed a little paler than usual, but she shrugged it off, thinking it was only the make-up. Her long, brown hair had fallen down, and she quickly started pinning it up again.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself as her curly tresses danced around her face, bringing out her deep blue eyes. She could hear the guests arriving, so it was about to start. Finally, it seems like Andre and I have been planning this forever. She thought to herself. Was that crying? No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t think anymore about it because she was too nervous and her mind was filled with bigger worries. Where are my mother and father? Her mother was going to bring her a bouquet of red roses, and her father had to walk her down the aisle.

She slowly opened the old wooden door and carefully stuck her head out to take a look around. When she stepped out into the hallway, the silence that surrounded her was eerie. A cold chill ran up her spine, and she quickened her pace as she walked down the long corridor towards the sanctuary.

She slowly peered around the corner and moved into the vast room. There were statues, paintings, and stained glass windows everywhere. As she looked around, she noticed all of her family members sitting in the pews, tears streaming down their faces. Everyone seemed to ignore her as she slowly walked down the aisle. She noticed a bouquet of red roses sitting on the mahogany table at the end of the aisle, so she quickened her pace. As she reached for the roses, she noticed it wasn’t a table at all, but a coffin.

She turned to run, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw who was in the coffin.

Me? How could that be me? She tried to scream, but nothing came out. She tried to run back down the aisle and out of the church, but her feet wouldn’t move. Radiant light started streaming through the stained glass windows, and everything seemed to be spinning with vibrant colors. Blood started running down her gown from a bullet wound to her chest. A vision of the day before filled her mind. Her best friend, Anya, had come to wish her luck, but then she confessed her love for Andre as she pulled out a gun and shot Tarika. Jealousy! She had been killed because of jealousy. As quickly as the radiant light came, it vanished, along with the ghost of the bride.

Talkback: Post Reply | View replies (3)