Harley

No one would have guessed that, on this day, a gun is fired, and a bride’s life is ripped from the world as we know it. Not a soul could have imagined the sorrow that toyed with the hearts of loved ones, that pierced the groom’s sanity, filling all with remorse and hatred. Yet, as this scene played out, everyone felt quite sure of how it would end. A whisper of truth pervaded that room, spreading like a disease, from one mind to the next. Although the outcome was clear, the families of the bride and groom were helpless to their own curiosity. They just needed to see who could have done it, who was willing to give up their own life to a jail sentence. There, in the aisle, stood a scruffy young man hiding his face behind a gun.

 You could see the pinkness of his cheeks, as he was flustered by his actions. The eyes of many bore into his with a terrible hatred for what he had done. The man shrieked as the groom made his way over to his bride, placed an arm around her waist, and screamed such a horrible and desperate sound, knowing that his journey with this woman stops here. The saddened man, now bent over his love, cradled her face and brushed that lovely, long hair away from her eyes. Before he could stop his rumbling mouth, he began to promise her things that she could never have.

 “I wont let you go, you are going to wake up and be just fine. If you aren’t, I will make it so, just wake up. Open your eyes so that I know you’re still there, let me see you once more.” He cried out to her limp body, knowing it would be helpless, but he continued, “I know you can hear me! Please, you can’t just leave, not like this! We’re supposed to grow old and die, die together. Not apart, and certainly not like this, hear me Lisa. Tell me you can still hear me, even if it hurts!” Tears were now streaming down his face and his voice choked in his throat. She was dead, and even the bullet that pierced her heart knew it was true. The groom, Victor, could not just accept this, though.

 After only days of searching, had it been any longer her body would have begun to decomposed, Victor stumbled upon a witch doctor, and not just any kind, but a Wiccan. He had heard a few things about this religion and knew that they could perform miracles, or something around that. He made an appointment and snuck his fiancé’s coffin out of the funeral home. Firstly, he securely hid the casket in the back of the van, along with a gurney, some cash, and a road mad. Feeling as though he is finally prepared, he drives over fifty miles to find this little house in an abandoned part of town, but once he arrives, he feels a settled tint of disapointment     as the house is filthy and hardly taken care of. It seems that no on has lived here for years, maybe the address was a dud. Considering the fact that he has made a point to come here, he decides against his better judgment and knocks upon the door. It creaks open merely seconds after his first, light, knock.

 "Yes?" A lady questions through a dimly-lit crack. He gathers his nerves, takes a deep breath, and replies,

  “I have come here to see you about my fiancé, and what I wish to do about her death.” The woman nodded along and opened the door wider.

 “In that case, come on in.” So, as the woman stood there with a crooked smile upon her face, he jogged to the car, put the casket on a gurney and rolled it into the house. As she leads him in, he gets a glance at such a young, and lovely face, so nice to look at that  he hardly notices the strange atmosphere around him. The young lady turns to him and smiles slightly, motioning him to follow. After merely seconds of being within the building, he knew this pretty woman would be no help, as her place was littered with musky herbs and chilling vodoo devices. He felt on the short end as his eyes scanned the odd room, but the cloaked woman continued to lead him through an endless hallway. As they neared the back of her home, she stoped and turned around to face him. Her eyes were bright and daring, lingering on the edge of a tinted blue, and she revealed a key from underneath her cloak. He followed her gaze to an intricate door, designs of snakes and swirls litering the peice. Bellow a golden handle, with spirals and coils on the finish, was a key hole. It was small and lovely, as the lady who was guiding him through the house, and reminded him of Renaissance Fairs. She placed the delicate key into the slot and let out a slow breath as it opened, as she stepped in, she beckoned him into the small space and he pushed the gurney through the doorway. The inside wa very dark and creepy, but after a couple of seconds he could hear some clicks and grinds. A stream of light flew into the room and perfectly revealed table of sorts.