The Blood Spattered Bride

I always aim to write these as stand alone stories, but I think I didn't succeed this time! I recommend reading these two first. Both very short, I promise!

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Tina drove away from Janis' home, palms slippery on the steering wheel, knuckles shining white and harsh.

Escaping from that gloomy little house out into the fresh air had felt like coming up for air after drowning in treacle.

Janis' gaze had felt like sad, cloying fingers on her skin. Alec's smile in that photo. How like her the bride looked. Even more disconcerting when Janis showed her the other photos. Bruised face. Bloody. Swollen.

Tina's gut churned.

Several deep breaths of clean air, and then, all too soon, she was crammed into the driver's seat. It was too stuffy in here.

Where else could I go?

Mum's?

The Dress sniggered in her imagination. Like it was waiting for her to show up. To taunt her.

Once again, she thought about burning the beautiful, horrible thing. She couldn't sell it. Not even to someone she hated. But get rid of it some other way... make it permanent... and then maybe the nightmares will stop. Maybe, with it gone, Alec will just be a normal man, a good husband.

She had a sinking feeling as soon as she had that thought. No. A man doesn't need a supernatural influence to make him dangerous. Unfortunately.

It was him she needed to be rid of. But she also knew that he hadn't showed his hand yet. Or rather, his fist. Leaving, or trying to, could be the catalyst that escalated things.

Mum will be devastated if she calls off the wedding, but she'd have to do it soon. And be smart about it. Have a plan. Couldn't go off half-cocked. Couldn't let on to Alec. Who knew what he might do.

The little car purred to halt outside her home. His car wasn't there yet. Phew.

That night, she slept deeply, without nightmares, for the first time in weeks.

It dawned on her when she opened her eyes, as clear as the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains.

She grabbed her phone, and called Mum.

"Mum? Are you home? Can I drop by? I've got to talk to you. I've got to try on that dress again."

Crazy, but I think it's trying to tell me something.

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Author's Note:

Word count: 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and authors note.)

Submitted on Tuesday 27th August at 22:59

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This one continues my 240 day streak since 1st January.

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A recent Runner Up placement for one of my Wanky Poems:

Another recent challenge entry:

My look back at July:

My reflections on the recent nonet challenge:

My current Dollar Challenge:

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Thank you again!