Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
She’s happy to be marrying me even though it’s not by her choice.
She’s happy…
We stand inside her favorite place. The schoolhouse is our church for this day. At least getting here allowed me to see the underground tunnels Ember told me about. Getting outside the cellar allowed me to take mental notes on every step of the way. Richard was smart, however, which I expected him to be. When he showed up with a pistol in his hand and another chain in his hand, I knew what he planned before he even said a word. Shackling me to Ember would make it next to impossible to run unless we somehow mastered running together in a cadence and step that would take careful practice and discussion.
"Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth. May you both walk under God as dutiful servants. We honor fire and ask that our union be warm and glowing with love in our hearts. We honor wind and ask that we sail through life safe and calm as in our father's arms. We honor water to clean and soothe our relationship—that it may never thirst for love. With all the forces of the universe you created, we pray for harmony as we grow forever young together. Amen.”
Ember and Richard both say, “Amen,” but I can’t bring myself to speak.
Scarecrow nearly chants the words, and they sound more satanic than holy. And now it dawns on me why when you see pictures from old backwoods weddings in the Appalachian Mountains or some other small town, the people never smiled. They stood side by side with the look of death on their faces. Dark circles under their eyes and sunken cheekbones.
This is me. I’m the ghostly man in these pictures. I completely understand.
If someone could take a picture of me now, what would they see?
I’m trying to tell myself this is not real. This is an act. This is all a game so I can win in the end.
I’m not really getting married.
This Scarecrow man can’t be a real pastor, and even if he is… this isn’t real. I’m chained to my bride. I’m fucking chained.
I’m not really holding the hand of my bride—soon to be my wife.
This isn’t real.
Scarecrow opens his dirty hands before us, and resting in his palm are two gold bands. I take the smaller one, and Ember takes the larger.
Oh Jesus, this is getting more real by the second. Wedding bands. Something for me to wear every single day. Will it choke the life out of me?
I’m fucking getting married!
“Brother Christopher,” Scarecrow breaks my thoughts. “Do you take Sister Ember to be your bride, to honor, to cherish, and to walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” I somehow say as I slide the ring onto Ember’s finger.
I have to. I have to stay focused on the plan. The only way to escape is to marry her. At least in this fucked up world I’m locked in.
“Sister Ember.” Scarecrow has spittle spewing from his chapped lips, and I force myself to look at the woman before me which is a far better sight. “Do you take Brother Christopher to be your husband, to honor, obey, and walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” she says softly as her eyes connect with mine. She wants this so badly. I can see it in the way her face nearly beams like an angel. I can feel it.
The band slides on my finger and actually fits perfectly even though I wonder if it will blister my skin with the evil it’s laced with.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
I actually have to kiss her. It’s the only thing to keep me standing as my entire being is swirling in complete chaos. I need a grounding force, and the lips of this sweet and pure woman before me are all I have to cling to.
As gently, and as lovingly as I can muster, I bring my lips to hers. She deserves a wedding kiss to remember. She deserves a memory that isn’t blanketed in thick darkness. I want to give her that gift. I want her to look back on this moment and remember how happy I truly believe she is.
My lips touch hers and I feel her release a breath. I inhale in hopes that her innocent view on life will help me chase away the horror flowing through my veins. I need her strength. I need her optimism. Otherwise, I’ll be swallowed up whole just as if I had been thrown in the acid pits.