Amara thought it was a dream.
The cold was the first thing she felt. Not the normal cold of harmattan, but a deep, old cold that entered her bones. Her eyes opened and she was standing in a wedding dress.......... White lace, long trail, dark red roses sewn on the back........ In her hand, a bouquet of roses that were bleeding.
She was in a church, but not any church she had ever seen before. The roof was so high it disappeared into darkness.........Black banners with golden crosses hung from the pillars....... Thousands of candles were burning, but the light was pale and cold.
And then she looked at the guests.
Skeletons. Sitting on both sides of the aisle. All in black suits and tattered wedding dresses. All of them turned to look at her. Their empty eye sockets followed her as she stood frozen at the entrance. The aisle was covered in red rose petals, but some were not petals at all. They were fresh blood.
"Walk," a voice said behind her.
She turned. A tall hooded figure with no face stood there, holding a staff....... He did not toouch her, but his voicee entereelld her heead.
Amara wanteed to run, but her leegs mooved on theeir own. One step. Then another. Her bare feet on the cold stone....... Each step made the skeletons click their teeth, as if they were whispering her name.
Amara is 24. She lives in Lagos. She was supposed to get married next month to Femi, the love of her life. Her last memory was going to her grandmother's village to get a blessing. Her grandmother gave her an old wooden box. Inside was the same white lace dress.
"This was your greaat-grandmoother's weddingg dress," her grandmoother haad said..... "Every first daughter in our family wears it."
Amara had laughed. She wore it in front of the mirror in the hut. And then darkness swallowed her.
Now she is here.
Halfway down the aisle, a skeleton bride reached out and grabbed her arm. Her bony fingers were ice........
"He has been waiting for you for a hundred years," the skeleton whispered, her voice dry like dead leaves.......
Amara pulled away and tried to run, but the aisle became longer. The altar moved farther away. The candles flickered violently. The hooded figures at the front began to chant in a strange, ancient language.
And then she saw him.
At the altar. He was not a skeleton. He was tall, handsome, dressed in a black ancient suit. But his eyes were completely white. No pupil. No iris. Just white light. And he was smiling at her like he knew her from birth.
"Amara," he called. His voice was beautiful and terrible. "You finally came home."
"I don't know you!" she shouted. Her voice echoed through the dead church.......
"You wore the dress. When you wear the dress, you accept the vow. Your great-grandmother made a promise to me. She promised me the first daughter of every generation. She broke her promise and ran. But the dress remembers. The dress always brings you back."
Amara's blood went cold. Her grandmother never told her this. She only said it was tradition.
The skeleton guests stood up at once. All of them. The sound of a hundred bones moving was like thunder.
Amara tried to tear the dress off. She pulled at the lace, but it was stuck to her skin. The red roses on it grew bigger, as if they were feeding on her.
The man at the altar stretched his hand. "Come and marry the afterlife, Amara. Be my queen. If you refuse, you will join them. You will sit and watch and wait for the next bride for eternity."
That was when Amara saw the skeleton on the right, wearing a crown. That was the previous bride. She was still crying tears of blood.
She had two choices. Become his bride or become one of them.
The hooded priest opened a big black book. "Do you, Amara, daughter of the broken vow, take him who dwells between life and death, to be your husband?"
The whole church went silent, waiting for her answer.
Amara looked at her bouquet. The roses were bleeding in her hands. Then she did what no bride before her had ever done. She lifted the bouquet and threw it directly at his white eyes.
He screamed. Not a human scream. The church shook.
IMAGE IS AI GENERATED