The Corpse Groom

Wedding Rehearsal

Stanford opened to a clean page in his journal, laying it flat on his desk as he grabbed a quill. The tip was dragged lightly against the empty page, quickly filling it with a detailed sketch of a small fairy. Once he was done, he closed the journal and looked one last time at the fairy fluttering around in the glass jar on his desk. He stood to push open the windows and slowly lifted the jar. The fairy flew around his room before leaving through the windows. He watched it flutter around town, the ticking of the clock in the background.

As the fairy flew off, most people seemed to only see it as a mere butterfly. It went past a man sweeping outside a clock shop, then past two men slicing fish. The cat underneath the table meowed as the fairy went by, but made no move to catch it. The cat's gaze was fixated on the fish. As the butterfly flew by a chubby man with big white hair, the town crier was yelling the news.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" The town crier announced in a nasally voice. "Ten minutes to go till Pines' wedding rehearsal!"

The white-haired man shooed away the fairy, watching as one of the men slicing fish climbed onto a horse-drawn carriage and rode off. The man coughed as he stopped in front of the Pines' house, and Ford looked out the window as he approached. His parents exited through the front doors.

"It's a beautiful day," Martha spoke.

"It's a rather nice day," Filbrick grunted.

"A day for a glorious wedding," Martha continued.

"A rehearsal, my dear, to be perfectly clear," Filbrick corrected, slinging a scarf around Martha's shoulders.

"A rehearsal for a glorious wedding!" Martha grinned, taking her husband's arm as he led her down the steps.

"Assuming nothing happens that we don't really know," Filbrick said, stopping as they came to a puddle.

"That nothing unexpected interferes with the show," Martha agreed, looking at the driver unexpectedly. He removed his apron and laid it across the puddle. "And that's why everything must go according to plan."

Martha knocked the driver's hat aside and replaced it with a small top hat.

"Our son will be married," Filbrick said, rolling up the signs on the carriage that advertised the pawn shop.

"According to plan," Martha added, doing the same. 

"And our family will be elevated to the heights of society!" Filbrick grunted.

"To the costumed balls in the hallowed halls," Martha hummed. "Rubbing elbows with the finest people! Or having lunch with the mayor!"

"And we'll forget everything we've ever been."

The two of them stepped into the carriage and sat down.

"Where's Stanford?" Martha asked. "We might be late!"

Meanwhile, Preston and Priscilla Northwest were watching the couple from across town in their manor, looking out the window at the town,

"Pawn shop owners," Priscilla scoffed.

"Hm," Preston agreed in disdain.

"It's a terrible day for a wedding," Priscilla said.

"It's a very sad state of affairs that led to this wedding," Preston shook his head.

"How did our life come to this?" Priscilla asked.

"Having to marry off our daughter to the common folk?" Preston made a face.

"Oh, this couldn't be worse," Priscilla sighed dramatically.

"'Couldn't be worse'?" Preston repeated. "I'm afraid I must disagree, my dear." He made his way to a vault hidden behind a painting nearby. "They could be bankrupt, without a penny to their name. Just like us."