The graveyard welcomes me as always. Andrew, the grave keeper, knows me and my name. Every night she steals my time as I wander near her, ambling through the dead grass and over dead bodies. The church bells bang and bounce, their tune crawling into the ears of the townspeople, while I continue on my path. The darkness has eaten the sun, and it is now a black shade of sadness hanging over the place.
Her gravestone is sitting there, waiting for me as it always does. Every night it greets me and invites me inside, holding my hand and leading me down bloody dirt. I lower my hands and claw at the ground as the wind rolls past me and onto better things. The mud flies and the grass is now mutilated, just like her body.
And what an ugly body it is now. Nothing like our wedding night, when she was dressed in all white with her hair done up just oh so pretty and she gave me the biggest smile I had seen in my life. She doesn't smile anymore. Too bad; it was a wondrous thing, her grin.
The work is tiring and tedious, and my arms are starting to collapse. But I must go on, because it's only midnight and it will be an even longer night if I stop now. So I lower myself again and go back to the hole. They thought it was the greatest idea ever to bury her real deep, and I hate them for that fact. I say she barely deserves a wonderful resting place, after getting killed like that.
It was a Friday, always a bad day for me. I got home from work, I took a load off, and she never came around. She said she went out to go visit her friend, and it normally never took her too long. At six or so, I called her cellphone and a stranger picked up. All I heard was heavy breathing and the sound of splashing water. I hung up, unsure of what I should do.
Two hours later and they come knocking on my door, telling me I'm so sorry sir we couldn't help her. She was found in the shed in the backyard of the Variks, dead and torn up. They identified many different types of wounds, ranging from bites to knife slashes to claw marks. She was missing her left leg and they carved the words "Love Me Not" into her chest.
What a selfish woman, going and dying like that. She didn't put up a fight, didn't try to get help, nothing. And now here I am, digging her up again. My hands are caked in brown sludge and my knees are tainted with stains of grass and dirt.
I reach the ornate casket, brushing my hands off on my legs. I grab the clasp and unhook it, swinging the door open. It hits the ground with a thud and she's there in front of me: paper-white skin, hair wrapped up in a pretentious ponytail, and a lovely dress that matches her ravishing, decadent body. I touch her flesh, caressing her dead neck and touching her diseased lips. Her lips are such an oxymoron: the most alive part on her deceased corpse. Even if I no longer love her, I still love her mouth.
I carefully lift her up and out of her coffin, gently placing her on the cold earth. I reach for her face, accidentally tearing some of her shoulder off. Laying it aside, I push her face towards mine and our lips meet. My tongue runs over her cold organ and leaves me frigid. This is how a woman should be: obedient to the very end, not whining about now here, not now. Now is the when, here is the where, and don't you dare complain about it. Well now she's mine to do whatever I want with.
But I am tired of this process. I am tired of coming out here every night and taking the trouble to dig up an entire grave and then fill it back in. All I want it her mouth, her tongue, her lips...
And tonight it shall be mine.
I slowly take out the knife I had brought for this event. I'm finally going to be free from the chains binding us two together. And she can't cry or sob or scream about it; all she can do is accept it.
Tenderly, I raise the blade and make a slight cut in the skin. No blood comes seeping out, another of her human characteristics that is now gone. I gingerly go farther into her face, making sure not to let the whole structure collapse. My face twists into an insane smile as I continue, letting drool roll down my chin. I feel my hands shaking and tell myself to calm down.
The incision is complete. I lift her mouth from her face. It is the most beautifully horrendous thing I have ever seen.
She has a hole in her face. Now it matches her heart: an empty space where something should be. I place the mouth on my knees, grabbing her hands up. I kiss her forehead for the last time, placing a cloth over her face's gaping cavity. I pick the mouth back up.
I kiss her lips and slide my tongue into her abrading mouth.
"Marry me, you lovely bride."
And I drop the mouth down my throat.
