The Ghost Bride.

By An Ocean Which Time Forgot...

Beneath a sky bleached silver by sorrow, the seashore gently cherishes a dream in RED. The tide sings of time slipped through trembling fingers, its salt heavy with memory. Seafoam clings to the jagged rocks like the hem of the bridal gown never worn in full joy.

Josetha stands where sand meets soul, her veil catching the breeze as though beckoning someone long vanished. Her eyes are turned always eastward - toward ships that never return, toward promises wrapped in morning mist. Each day, she walks the same path - footprints erased by waves that neither judge nor remember.

💍 Her gown, once radiantly red, has become a pale echo of love unfulfilled, the string of pearls around her neck long scattered to the wind. Now bare, her throat trembles faintly, not from life, but from the sighs of the wind passing through her.

Locals speak in hushes of the Bride of Barrow Shore, sorrowfully mistaking her century-long wait as one day, the day she had meant to Marry...But the day she Died instead.

Alas...for the fading ghost of poor Josetha...there was only moonlight on water and the cry of gulls.

Yet she waits. Not realizing she is but a breath woven into the very rhythm of the tide.

The seashore mourns with her, and the driftwood...bleached like old bones...knows her tale. It listens as she hums her wedding hymn, the melody carrying into the waves like a lament too gentle to disrupt the silence of eternity.

💍But...Long before the sea mourned...

The lovely bride had chosen to wear red for her exciting, long awaited day. Everything had gone so perfectly. Sadly, fate had dealt her a harsh blow. For long would she be standing, wondering where he could be, why was it taking him such a long time to arrive and stand by her side.

Alas, poor Josetha doesn't realize that she had been waiting for years by the seashore, that time had passed by - that the years had ravaged her skin, the wedding dress in tatters. The still scattering petals of the bouquet which she held in her hands floated around her like petrified butterflies in a silent dance of forever mourning.

Still, she waited...and waited, growing sadder and sadder. The stubborn spirit within her refused to accept the truth...or what she believed to be the truth. The proud bride-to-be wrongly thought that she had been left at the 'alter'...jilted.

Until...one fateful night - her senses finally awakened...and she remembered.

~~~~~~~

Josetha had planned her wedding perfectly. A Summer ceremony by the seaside...The Flaming Bride who would Wear Red.

She would arrive not draped in white, but clad in cascading crimson silk that caught the wind like a billowing sail. The gown would shimmer like a flickering flame against the cool palette of the shore, the red matching the bouquet held like a banner...defiant, regal, utterly hers. Strands of garnet beads threaded through her hair, which danced like kelp in the sea breeze. Her feet would dance softly with each barefoot step, a rhythm only the ocean seemed to recognize.

She had planned this day with a precision born of dreams and rebellion. Every detail a mirror to her spirit...wild, poetic, and entirely undiluted.

The guests would follow a winding path of driftwood and crushed roses which led them to the shoreline altar, where a perfect arch was woven with red lilies and dark ivy. Tied to the base were glass orbs filled with twinkling star-like glows...the kind that shine by daylight and night if you know how to look.

Enclosed candles floated in glass bowls that bobbed near the tide’s edge, steady in their flickering. Nearby, her bouquet rested: not delicate blooms, but an arrangement of protea, scarlet hibiscus, and twisted sea vines...a manifesto in flora.

She would stand alone for a breathless moment before walking. Not waiting to be given, not seeking permission. When she moved, it was as though the waves themselves bent closer to witness her procession.

All eyes would follow, and Josetha would not falter. She was not a bride shaped by tradition. She was myth, red as dusk, ready to marry the soul who waited by the seaside.

But Alas! It all went so horribly wrong.

As the little boat, beautifully adorned with garlands of island flora ferried her across the lagoon, a bee rose up from the aromatic blooms, as the bride to be caressed the petals of the flowers.

Mistaking her gesture for a threat, the bee arose angrily latching on to her neck beneath her veil, stinging her as she frighteningly searched for the source of the buzz.

While the location of a bee sting doesn't directly determine the likelihood of anaphylactic shock, stings in certain areas can be more dangerous due to potential airway obstruction or rapid systemic spread of venom. Stings near the mouth, throat, or neck are particularly concerning, as swelling can quickly compromise breathing. A sting anywhere on the body can lead to anaphylaxis in someone with a venom allergy.

Josetha never knew that she had a bee allergy. She stood up far too quickly, flailing her arms madly, clutching at her neck, teetering, gasping, losing her footing and falling over the side of the boat.

Paolo turned from his job as ferryman for the bride, starting to smile as he thought she was dancing in her happiness. He opened his mouth to warn her to sit down, just as the wind whipped her veil and she began falling over the side. As if in slow motion, his thoughts confused, he watched his best friend fall, unable to move within the unreal slow movie unfolding before his eyes.

He glanced in confusion across the horizon where the guests waited as he swiveled his head, his mind determining the course of action to undertake within a split second.

He let go of the wheel, spun around, grasped the side of the boat and dived into the swirls, fully dressed.

The groom and awaiting guests watched in horror, one moment there were two forms of the boat...then there was none, as Paolo dived overboard... They fled to the waiting yacht, radioing 'mayday' for the coastguard.

Beneath the water, Josetha's arms flailed for a few moments, but her throat had swelled so badly...she could not breathe. Her dress twirled around her cruelly, like the wings of the bee which had stung her...a sad and awful poetry unfolding...ominous.

Her body, still now, begins to descend...deeper...where shadows cradle silk and sorrow blooms in slow motion, her crimson veil trailing like a memory in mourning, her bouquet lost to the coral.

Paolo held his breath, his eyes searching...the floating red choreography of movement caught his attention and he swam like a madman towards her form, sinking slowly. Coral, driftwood and tiny sea creatures seemed to pause their movements, allowing him space to move.

He grasped her body, held her close as his powerful legs propelled them upwards...finally, above the surface...he breathed, air... a welcome balm to his tightened throat.

Sadly, no such relief awaited the unfortunate Josetha. She could not be revived...it was too late...her soul had already begun its journey, for a silent departure from this life.

His boat was nowhere in sight, but the rented post-wedding yacht, along with some of the guests, came speeding towards them. A coastguard boat was also blaring its horns and closing in fast to their location.

The devastated groom dived into the water without thinking. He reached for Josetha, withdrew his hands in horror as Paolo shook his head sadly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he drew closer, took Josetha in his arms and held her unresponsive form close to his heart.

But her soul had not yet departed this life. Unseen by the living, she floated above the group of mourning, weeping wedding guests. She wished that she could comfort her weeping groom, Josetha loved him so and she knew how much he cared for her.

"I will wait for you, my love...there by the seashore, no matter how long it takes". Josetha spoke earnestly, hoping he could hear her words.

The groom swore he heard her voice echoing upon the wind.

And so she waited!

💍💍💍💍

🕰️ The Groom who never forgotten

In a cottage surrounded by bramble and quiet remembering...Aadan grew old with the ache of memory in his bones. Time had betrayed him ...not gently, as his heart did not forget...years folded like worn letters, soft-edged and yellowing. He had married, yes, and fathered children who laughed with his eyes but not his silence. He loved them all dearly and enjoyed his life with them.

But every spring, he'd wander to the shore alone, where the gulls sang what Josetha never could. He felt her presence...and wondered if she had kept her promise to wait, until the day came when he would join her there.

She was his beginning and every end after. His wife knew...not through confession, but through the spaces he left empty, the silence that lingered too long in minor chords. The name “Josetha” was never spoken in that house, yet it drifted through its halls like scent from a forgotten bouquet.

🪶 He aged into reverence. His hands, once strong, now trembled like sea grass in wind. His heart wore grooves from the absence of her. When his children asked why he stared at nothing, he answered with poetry: “I’m watching a promise grow old...soon to be awakened”.

They all knew of the woman of long ago, of whom they were forbidden to speak. Their father loved and cherished them...That was enough. They loved him too.

And when his final morning bloomed grey and shadowy, he rose with gentle certainty. Draped in a coat lined with memories, he walked to Barrow Shore, where the waves still hummed Josetha’s hymn.

She was there.

Still young. Still waiting. The tide curled around her as if protecting something sacred. Aadan, now little more than ash inside skin, reached out, breath catching not from age, but awe.

Many years had passed...then one day she thought she heard him...saw him, as he came walking towards her - calling her name.

"Josetha, I am here my darling".

💫 She turned...and for a moment, the veil lifted.

He saw not a ghost but a memory made whole. As his final breath escaped him like a secret released, the two figures touched: one forged of longing, the other finally free of it.

Some say he died that day on the shore.

But others say the sea welcomed two spirits back into one tide - Josetha, the eternal bride, and Aadan, the groom who remembered.

She turned and ran into the silent waters of his outstretched arms.

They met in a whirlwind of red petals scattered all around them...as if the sea had prepared a celebration for the lost, now found.

Together they floated into the sky, wisps of red and black smoky vapors trailing on the wind...long after the last hum of a soft melody rose into the knowing nothingness of possibility.

Finally one at last, forever embracing their long awaited vows.

💍💍💍💍

His family buried him lovingly. His earthly companion imagining him together with Josetha at last...entreated words to the wind...

"He is yours now, Josetha. Finally he is at peace. Take good care of him".

"I will". She replied. "Thank you for your gift of kindness".

Amrylyn swore that she heard Josetha answer her upon the wind!!!