Gabriel (Book 1)

Here Comes My Bride

March 17th, 2011

Today has been the day of my dreams for- oh, well, I guess its been, oh

yeah...FOREVER! Since my father told me of my engagement to Natalia I've either

dreamed of my freedom or of a woman who I desire in every way possible. Johanna

is that woman.

All I have to do is hear her name and my undead heart starts beating and my dead

arteries start pumping dead blood through my system in anticipation of the

freedom she brings. Being with her, I've learned that humans aren't as delicate

as they might seem. My Johanna has the will of God, the heart of a saint, the

warmth of a hot summer sun, the mind of a scholar, the life of a flourishing

undiscovered rainforest. She's funny and smart, beautiful and kind, loving and

warm, strong and determined, she's gracious when she's right and accepting when

she's wrong. I'm not just marrying a girl today; I'm marrying a woman, my best

friend, my teacher, my sun my moon and my stars, the other half of my heart. I'm

being bonded in every way possible to the woman I want to spend forever with.

She's the right amount of crazy to my "boring", she's the life to my death,

she's the love in my heart.

So, why then, did I feel like something was wrong? Sure I'm about to go against

everything I once stood for. Once. But I've changed for the better and this is

what I've waited for since I first laid eyes upon her. Perhaps I'm worried that

her humanity will catch up to her too quickly and then, in turn, take her away

from me? Seems plausible. Perhaps I'm afraid that she'll let humanity take her

away? Yes. Visions of my aged Johanna start filling my mind:

She'll let herself grow old without me, she'll let the gray fill the color of

her hair. Time will wrinkle her beautiful skin. Seeing the world will catch up

with her, making her eyes grow weak and depend upon glasses. Hearing music and

dancing deep into the nights will take its toll; her ears are straining to her

the new music we've discovered, her body is weak. My wonderful friend's eyes no

longer jump in anticipation of seeing me, instead, her eyes flare with

resentment at seeing my perfectly sculpted body.

And then, she'll let the cold seep into her bones, the light leave her eyes, the

touch of Gods creations escape her grasp, Death will knock on our door. I won't

be able to prevent him from entering. He'll throw in the door and slowly curl

one icy finger after another around the door frame. Eventually pulling his

hooded face into the room, all that is distinguishable is his glowing hell-fire

red eyes. Rather than walk or creep into the room, he seems to glide. This