The moon rested high on her throne in the sky, emitting light worthy of worship across the rather gloomy forest. Animals have scattered and fled, spooked by light crunches and faint calls. Trees swayed along with the gentle breeze, roots planted firmly within the deep ground of the earth, branches flinging into only the most unfortunate of men.

That man tonight, would be Nicholas D Wolfwood.

With disheveled hair and crooked sunglasses, Nicholas could only kick rocks as he recalled his earlier mess up. While his cigarette lay loosely within the grasps of his lips, he grumbled the lines of his vows, desperate to show his true care of the upcoming wedding in form of practicing.

"With this hand I will lift your sorrows," His tone held determination, gaze snapping to the ring within his palm. "Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine," His footsteps were extenuated by the crunching of leaves below him, alongside branches that oddly resembled hands of the undead. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness," He made a faint gesture of his hands in representation of lighting a flame.

"With this ring, I ask you to be mine." Nicholas spoke in finale, jokingly slipping the ring onto a item protruding from the ground. He felt accomplished, managing to speak without a mere stutter.

It hadn't even occurred to him that the "item" in which he placed the ring upon was hand, one that had began to jerk from within the confines of the soil. For a split moment, he thoroughly believed he had lost his mind, mouth agape as you — an undead bride — began to rise.

With his cigarette left forgotten on the ground, he was only able to watch as your blank gaze stared back at him, with bones for a hand, cheeks sunken, and dressed in only the scraps of a once beautiful wedding dress, he realized he was in the face of death, a corpse bride.