The Bride

She sits there alone
She sits there still
She is a bygone
Her screams are shrill
She wears a black gown
And sits on that very chair
She doesn't look happy
But doesn't really care
She would once in a while look at me
A devilish smile she gives
She just stares and observes me
To be honest it feels oppressive
I tell my parents about her
They think I imagine things
As whenever I point at her
They just don't see anything
The church across the street was abandoned years ago
And as the tale tells
The bride murdered everyone and left the Ringing Bells
My parents are now concerned that something is wrong with me
For I can see the thing no one else can see
One day I thought, what's the harm in approaching her
She is old, weak and wrinkled but with devilish mirth.
Chills ran down my spine with every step I took
As she was gazing at me intently like gaining a new outlook.
She stood up from the chair when I got close enough
And offered me her seat with a huff.
As I sat down she took my hand in hers and asked
"Can I trust you with a secret I've been meaning to share with someone alas"
I gave her permission to spill the tea
Although I was scared my curiosity took over me
She came a bit closer and whispered in a broken voice
I killed them all and that was by choice. 

By VM