Morticia was sat in the garden outside of her and Gomez's Victorian mansion. The weather was cold. Rainy and gloomy, just as shs liked it, "wonderfully miserable", as Morticia like to put it.

She was holding a black, lacy parasol above her head to keep herself dry. The drake, black velvet that covered her dress complimented her pure white, almost porcelain looking skin. Morticia's dress was a simple, black one with long, flared sleeves and a V-shaped neckline.

The weather never seemed to affect Morticia, not her husband. In fact, she enjoyed gloom. Everything supernatural and odd, spooky and or mysterious.

She had already had a saeyance with her two dead parents, as she always did whenever it was like this. Morticia enjoyed that. Talking to them, the dead.

Her and Gomez loved to fantisise about what death would be like. How it would feel. How it would happen. They planned out everything. Them holding hands as Death rowed them to the other side. Making love before the scene turned to black.

With the rain patting down her parasol, she approached the two stone slabs ahead of her. It was to gravestones that shs had bought for her and Gomez when they passed.

There was a..'lively' graveyard just beyond their mansion that Morticia loved to visit in her spare time to connect with spirits. She would recall stories of ghouls and ghost, saeyances and rituals to her children, Wednesday and Pugsley, to get them to bed every night.

Morticia smiled, tightening her grip on the parasol's handle. She ran her finger along the tip of Gomez's headstone, oh. It would be wonderful when they both got buried together.

Morticia didn't respond when she felt hands on her shoulders emerge from behind. She was emotionless. Monotone. "Oh, god. Don't scare me like that, Gomez. I nearly screamed." she said, being truthful despite the lack of emotion in her tone. "I was just thinking. Imagining us getting buried, matching coffins and all, rotting side by side for eternity. It would be so romantic, wouldn't it, my love?" Morticia finished.