You remember being knocked out, hit over the head or perhaps in the chest with something large and heavy. Or maybe… maybe it just felt large when it hit you, perhaps it was very small. You might have been shot. You remember bleeding, yes, and a disturbingly cold feeling creeping from your insides out; but you do not remember what happened after that. All you know is that you’re awake again, and this place is very musty and dark. It’s soft though, like a cushion of some kind is underneath you. Which means that though you remember last being on a floor, it is not a floor that you are currently lying on.

buried alive

You move your hand slightly to the right and are startled when it hits something silk and soft. You wonder for a moment if there could be another person lying next to you and it is their dress you have grazed with your hand. You again touch this area and push down, but instead of flesh underneath the silk you feel more cushioning. You move your left hand and experience the same. You try to sit up but before you can even reach a thirty degree angle your head connects with more of this soft cushioning. You push your hands up against it and slowly begin to realize where you are.

The musty air, the lining of the inside of this box that you are in. They all must have assumed you were dead. They must have buried you alive thinking that you had gone to the other world. Panic sets in quickly and you begin using up what little air was left in the confined area. You scream and you bang on the ceiling of your coffin with all of your might but there is no way out.

May we reconvene under the blood red moon,
-Black Widow

You’ve been planning this wedding for a while now. Finding the perfect dress was no easy feat, and when you did, it had to be altered several times to fit just right. Your bridesmaids joked, asking you if you were this picky when you were deciding on your fiancé. You picked out all of the flowers personally, making sure their colors would go well with the bridesmaid dresses, and the overall look of the reception. You made sure the groomsmen were getting their tuxes, even though that was supposed to be your significant other’s responsibility. All of the little touches you took care of as well, down to what type of table decorations would accompany the plates, flowers, wine glasses, and silverware.

Corpse Bride

You don’t want to give yourself time to stop and think because you’re afraid that you might get violently nervous. You’re afraid you might get too afraid. You wouldn’t want to get cold feet, not when you love this man so much. A run away bride could definitely be a deal breaker.

The guest list you focus on instead. You’re the only one that knows everyone, so you need to be sure that the people who absolutely hate one another aren’t forced to spend an evening together at the same table. You want to make sure that the quiet ones, don’t have to spend time with the rowdy drunken ones. Or that your soon to be uncle-in-law isn’t seated next to any cute girls half his age. You secretly hope he doesn’t come at all, but place him with some of the over sixty crowd just to be safe. Soon it will be the glorious day. You take a moment to look in the mirror, and reach up to pull a maggot from your cheek.

What a wonderful thing to be married, what a wonderful thing to be wed. It really is a shame though, that you’re both already dead.

May we reconvene under the blood red moon,
-Black Widow