This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Written by Ashly Damon
Edited by Bradley Bell
A young man paced back and forth over a grave.
He was uncertain about what he was doing, whether it was right or merely foolish. The grave was that which belonged to his deceased bride, a woman whose name once warmed the blood in his cheeks.
The sight of her carved name on the tombstone left a pang in his stomach in place of warmth.
“Ah, so you were serious eh?” The young man looked up to see a dark figure wrapped in black a crow with a skull face perched on his shoulder.
“I only wish I had known about you sooner.” The young man’s eyes shone with desperation.
“Well, word doesn’t exactly travel fast around here in my sort of business.” The dark figure stunk of foul things. He ran his bony black finger over the top of the tombstone. “So you want me to resurrect your loved one? Such a thing isn’t an easy task I assure you.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want to make this happen.”
“Anything? Well I do have something in mind, actually.” The man repeated his desperate words. “Well, when you die I shall have your body as my slave.” The dark figure cackled.
The young man hung his head.
“I feel the hole in my heart bearing deeper with every passing day. I need her. So please, bring her back to life.”
“Dig her grave up. Do it now.” He tossed a shovel at the young man. He complied and unearthed the casket of his dead bride. He wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Oh look, she’s still wearing her dress, how pretty.” The dark figure commented as the casket was opened. She was still wearing her wedding ring.
Painful flashes of memory ran through the young man’s mind. They had been truly happy, and on the day they were to be married she became deathly ill. They had taken her to a hospital to no avail. She died in his arms.
“Go on, lift the casket up you fool. You want her you do the hard yards!”
He struggled to do, yet still was able to bring the casket up to the ground.
The dark figure glided in-between the bride and groom, placed a bony finger on each one’s skull and chanted some words.
A dark light spurted into the young man’s body; he sunk to his knees, mouth agape by this power. He gasped as he began to wither, skin wrinkling and eyes falling back into his sockets, hair growing white.
His bride’s rotting skin began to glow, her veins pulsing. Her mouth twisted into a deformed O, and let out a hideous groan, it turned to a blood-curdling scream, yet to the young man she was just yawning.
The bride rose from her casket, skin looking green and skeletal; she turned to face her groom.
Her tongue fell out of her mouth, hanging on the edge of her jaw. He saw this as her smiling cheekily. Her bloodshot eyes bulged.
The dark figure grinned from beneath his hood.
“My, what a beauty! My love you are so pretty!” The now old man smiled, as he saw a different view, of a young woman with flowing blonde hair and pretty blue eyes.
“I prepared the ceremony earlier.” The dark figure brought the groom before a stone arch. He awaited his bride eagerly, it felt all too like a dream for him.
As the bride walked towards her groom in long scraping steps, the flowers that fell behind her withered and died, grass turning black. As she continued on, her groom whispered of his love for her eyes.
“So beautiful aren’t they?”
The necromancer laughed, clearly amused by the whole scene.
“Ah, death means nothing in the face of my power. I have raised your love from beyond the veil, here for you to claim for now and all eternity. And for love’s sake let us skip the long boring sentimental nonsense and reward you with a binding kiss.”
“You, thank you so much for this.” The deluded man thanked the dark figure.
The elderly man puckered up his lips and drew in closer to her mouth. He shut his eyes. The bride grabbed hold of his neck and forced her tongue down his throat. The smell of rotted flesh stunk in his mouth, yet to him it was perfume and a simple kiss. She stretched out her jaw and bit down hard on his mouth, moaning as she did so.
It was at this moment that the illusion was broken for the old man. He screamed, blood spurted and filled his mouth, he couldn’t breathe. His frightened eyes turned to the dark figure, who merely laughed.
“You foolish man.”
The bride clawed the old man to the ground and shredded away his clothes. She began screeching and screaming with each gulp of his blood and skin. The old man was dead within a matter of moments.
“Halt.” The bride stopped, frozen by her master’s word.
The old man began to groan, spine and knees bending. His elbows pressed into the dirt and his eyes opened wide, blackness engulfing the white. The groom let out the same scream as the bride did.
“Ah, delightful. Another to add to my little army.” A wide smile breached the darkness of his hood. “Come along pets, we have more idiots to attend to.”