A Gift for His Bride
by Melissa Knee, age 16, Saks High School
Oct 27, 2011 | 814 views |  0 comments | 5 5 recommendations | email to a friend | print
I shivered and stomped the frozen ground. My hands dug deeper into my pockets, trying to protect the little body heat I still had. All around me, the snow stirred. It only added to my fear.

“Okay! I know you’re here! What do you want from me!?” I yelled with false confidence into the dark forest in front of me. The wind picked up. I turned around, looking for any shadow between the trees. Above me the full moon glared down. It was a symbol from him.

“Welcome,” a sad soprano voice said. I jumped and turned to see a young woman standing only a few feet from me. She wore a long black dress, corseted around her waist and covered up over her shoulders and down her arms with translucent spider webs. Her pale face was turned up toward the sky. Her eyes were closed.

“Who are you?” I questioned. I had prepared myself to see him, but not her. She looked like an angel in death’s clothing. She smiled as she looked down at me. When her eyes opened, I gasped. They were completely white; no iris or pupil. As I saw her now she seemed lifeless or empty; beautiful porcelain doll. My heart thumped with understanding.

“SHE’S DEAD!!! ISN’T SHE!?!” I screamed. My heart pounded hard as I backed away. The girl simply turned her head to the side as if asking a question. I turned to run, but I was frozen. Behind her was a shadow. It was him.

The forest was completely still; as if it were waiting to see what would happen next. I held my breath. He moved closer, resting his hand on the dolls shoulder.

“I made her for you. Isn’t she pretty? You can consider it a wedding present.” His voice was softer than a whisper, but I heard every word crystal clear. His voice was deep and smooth; it entranced me. I took a few steps forward before stopping.

“What do you mean, wedding present?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I just realized that my hands were clenched in fists. The dark shadow moved closer, into the moonlight. I could see the outline of his black ragged cape. The only part of his body I could see was his gloved hands; black silk gloves. My heart stopped as I saw what he was holding. The blade glinted in the silver light. Its long staff was carved with intricate red lines.

“You accepted my proposal of engagement the moment you put on that ring, sweetheart,” his voice called to me. Instinctively, I held my left hand out to him. A large black jewel glistened on my ring finger. His free hand lifted up, holding onto my own. His touch was like ice.

“You shall now be my queen,” he promised.

“Queen of what?” I asked nervously.

“Death, of course,” he replied sweetly, as he released my hand and pulled back his hood.

I screamed!
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A Gift for His Bride by Melissa Knee, age 16, Saks High School

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