Who Shot the Bride?

  Stephanie's throat went dry as she beheld the horror before her.  So dry that she could scarcely scream.

  For there was the bride seated on the swing, a pool of thick, syrupy blood staining her plain white dress.  Her expression was trance like and her eyes which used to be so full of life were staring dead ahead...and she just kept bleeding and bleeding.  The tears came to Stephanie's eyes as she thought dejectedly, "Here lies Mrs. Helen Bryton on her wedding day."

 ~*~

 Earlier that day...

    For a while they just stared dreamily into each other's eyes; saying nothing but feeling something so fantastic- something that they wanted to last forever.

  Words weren't necessary.  In fact the silence fed the tranquil mood; the peace under the humongous trees in the secluded countryside. This was their own world; where only he and she existed.  No one else mattered.

   His eyes sparkled like sapphires and she should know- she had a whole jewelry box full of those.  And even the moon would be jealous of his perfectly pale, perfectly bright complexion.  As for his smile, it was all the strength she needed to last a lifetime.  This was the man she was going to marry today.  For him she would leave behind her maiden name and take up the name of Bryton.

   "Let's go get married," he whispered, his lips gently brushing her ear.

  She took his hand and they walked away, past the garden that made them feel so alive. They left behind the silver swing set where they'd had breakfast.  It was the perfect romantic setting; surrounded by rosebushes and overlooking the fish pond.

  They'd come back later.  After all, they'd officially own the garden that night.

   But right now, it was time to promise their lives to each other.

 ~*~

 A little later on...

  Stephanie craned her neck to witness what was going on.  She hated being at the back of the church where so many heads blocked her view.  She couldn't hear anything either, even though she was sure it was nearing the time when the couple would have to make their wedding vows.

  The tall stranger standing next to her seemed amused by her vain efforts to see.  "No worries shorty," he grinned.  "I'll describe what's happening to you."

  She took in his appearance.  Messy dark-blond hair and devilish blue eyes, a lean figure, a barely worn tuxedo that was too tight and squeezed his chest- this was the guy who had the nerve to tease her.  So, of course, she didn't mind.

   But she played along anyway. "Shorty?" she said. "Well that's mature."  She hoped she looked ok.  She was wearing a red dress that stopped at the knees with a sharp V-neck.  It clung to her body a little- but not too much to scandalize a church- goer.

   Her comment made him grin a little wider. "Do you want to know what's happening or not?"

  "Tell me," she prompted, trying to get the best out of his offer.

   "Well now the kid is giving them the rings and the priest is talking."

   "That means it's almost time! I'm so excited for them," she said.

   "Now Francis is taking the ring and placing it on Helen's finger...you know the drill."

   She just considered something. "What does Helen's dress look like?"  She'd been a little late and had missed the procession as well as what all the women look forward to at a wedding; the wedding dress.