Pushing Daisies (Fanfic) [HOLD]

3. Unexpected Guests

Neither of them could comprehend what had happened. The invitations were sent two weeks prior, each of their names printing in the finest ink money could buy. Perhaps there were some who could not resist a wedding- even the dead like weddings.

"Are you sure?" Ned asked Chuck, his eyes wide as if she had just dropped dead in front of him.

She nodded, still clouded by disbelief. "Yes, I'm sure. I was walking down the corridors when-"

She was walking down the corridors when she heard a sudden thump against the door to her left, the door reserved for arriving guests only. There were voices concealed in there and her curiosity won when she pulled back the door to meet the glance of her father, the man who died and was somehow, unnaturally, alive. 

Her leapt into her throat and stayed there until she let out a sudden croak.

"Dad?"

***

And the Pie-Maker stood stunned when she recounted the events to him, and found himself weeping at the thought.

"Did you?" Chuck asked him, a fury in her voice that startled Ned into a quick response.

"What, no! No, I didn't do it. How could I have? I don't even..."

His mind wandered far, outside of this universe perhaps, so his vacant expression pronounced. He pondered the thought of another gifted person like him, one that could wake the dead. But there was no other, or so he thought. He was sure of it. 100 per cent.

"Wait," he began stuttering like a child, "If-if I didn't do it, then who did?"

At that precise moment, a loud bang shook the room into alarm as a woman dressed like a frosted doughnut fell into the room. Her eyes sparkled like only the living could, and her lips as red as summer plums glistened in the light. She looked up and for the first time in forever, she had met someone like her- someone she never thought she would meet.

The Pie Maker couldn't help but smile, as he saw the image of his own reflection, in the form of a girl. How long had she been hidden away?

"Am I late?" was all she could ask, for her eyes were fixed on the Pie-Maker's stunned eyes, their richness undeniable in the light, though his hand almost grazed Chuck's. If only.

"Who the hell are you?" Chuck found herself demanding in a strong, thick voice.

The woman stood tall and flipped her curly carrot hair over shoulder and announced, "Singrid Singer, daisy farmer...Coeur de Coeurs..."

Baffled, the Pie Maker continued to stare, as if she had been sent from Heaven to relieve him of his duty- his duty to bake pies and wake the dead. Who this woman was remained to be seen, but what interested him the most was whether or not she could do what he could.