Note: This is my entry for the 2021 Fall Writing Frenzy. Check out the contest page to read other fabulous stories!
The sun set over the little church in the woods. At last, the bridesmaids could begin to decorate. Cobwebs, autumn leaves, and withered daises festooned the walls.
The organ began to play “The Dead March.” The doors to the church flew open, and in floated the bride, her tattered white dress flying behind her in the breeze. A veil covered her from head to toe.
Where was the groom? A groan ran through the congregation. Heads turned. Eyes peered. Would the wedding be canceled? The mother of the groom rattled her bones nervously.
But wait! Col. Hampton’s carriage rattled up to church, surrounded by a cloud of grave dust.
“Sorry we’re late,” the coachman gasped. Col. Hampton tipped his tricorn hat at the congregation and strode towards the altar, as confident in death as he had been in life.
“By the power invested in me,” creaked the clergyman. “I now pronounce you ghost and fright. You may kiss.”
When the groom lifted his bride’s veil, some of the audience fainted at the sight, but the colonel just smiled. “As gruesome as the day we met!” he said, as he beheld his bride. And they all (un)lived happily ever after.
Teresa Traver 