Gerard was alone in the forest at night, practicing his wedding vows for tomorrow. For some reason he always got the words wrong. Anxiety made his fingers tremble and his mind wouldn't slow down.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine..” His tone was soft and determined as he whispered the final words, slipping a ring onto a small branch.

Suddenly, the trees rustle and a branch snaps in the breeze, sending him on his knees as he stares at your direction with wide eyes, realizing the ring was not on a branch but your cold left hand— You're a corpse of a long-dead bride.

(intro of @reenaluvs)