Blood and White: a short Fredtin story

The Brides Day

Sounds of harmonic piano notes and the whistling of an organ danced through Quentin's ears, the musical winds causing the boys eyes to flutter open from his unconscious state. His vision cleared after batting his eyelashes a few times, then squinting at the bright light shining above him and into his eyes.

Quentin raised his arm up to block the harsh beaming ray of brightness from blinding him, only moving it away when he pushed his hand against the floor and pushed himself to sit up.

What happened? Where was he? Quentin wracked his brain to try and figure out what happened before he went unconscious from... whatever made him knock out.

The last thing Quentin remembered was being at the campfire, his sneakers kicking at the dirt below them and digging into the earth from the boredom and loneliness. He had recalled closing his eyes just for a second to just rest them, only to fall asleep and seemingly waking up here.

Now, he was what seemed to be in a beautiful church. He was resting on a crimson red floor and laying against a dark wood wall, seemingly covered in an array of snowy white decorations. Shiny glass chandeliers hung above Quentin, shining their bright light down onto him to dance along his skin.

No one else was around, from what Quentin could see from where he was sitting. He didn't remember seeing this place back in Springhood (the real Springwood, not the one fabricated by the Entity), nor was there a place like this in the Fog.

What was this place?

"W- what the fuck...? What is this place..?" Quentin slurred out, wiping away the stray line of drool trailing down the corner of his mouth with his gloved hand.

Wait. Quentin didn't wear gloves.

Quentin pulls his hand back to see his arm donning a white velvet glove, the fabric leading up to his bicep and tightly hugging to the skin.

Quentin looks at his other hand, seeing that it had the same glove the other one had. Since when has he put gloves on? white gloves to be more exact.

Things only got worse when Quentin looked down at the rest of his body, almost shrieking his lungs out at what he saw.

Quentin was wearing a dress, but not just any dress, it was a fucking wedding dress! The silky white fabric and massive skirt that wrapped around his waist gave it away immediately. The ruffles were tucked under the massive ribbon pulled around his waist. There were no sleeves on the dress, the top being left at his chest and that was all. The skirt was massive and insanely poofy, which annoyed Quentin as he pushed himself to stand up. From what he could see, he was wearing small white heels and black leggings underneath the dress skirt.

Finally, a veil was drooping down in front of face, obscuring his view with the white lace.

Under certain circumstances, Quentin would've found the dress beautiful and gorgeous. But he didn't like that he was the one donning the dress as if he were a bride on her lucky day. It was almost as if it was Quentin was getting married.

Jesus Christ, this had to be a dream manipulated by Krueger. It had to be. No way would Quentin be in a church, wearing a wedding dress, and assume everything would be fine.

Well, he might as well explore the place. Maybe he could find Krueger here and fight back against him (as best as he could, nobody fought good in a pair of heels), that or find an alarm clock or another way to wake himself up with.

He guesses exploring it was, then. It beats sitting around and waiting for Krueger to come and kill him.

Quentin stuck to the wall of the church he was exploring, not letting go of the wood and just keeping his hand sliding against the wall while he walked around.