“Do you Michael Peter Cameron take Mary Lucy Welsh to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have
and to hold, in sickness and in health from this day forward, forsaking all others?” asked the
vicar standing just in front of Michael and Mary.
Michael remembered being nervous as he watched his wedding DVD. He also remembered
an argument with Mary about making the DVD; he thought it was a waste of time and money.
He was glad Mary had won the argument, otherwise he would have nothing to remember her
by, other than his memories, but he surmised even they fade over time. A tear formed in his
eyes making the film blurry and causing him to instinctively sniff. Not again.
“I do.”
“And you, Mary Lucy Welsh do you take Michael Peter Cameron to be your lawfully wedded
husband to have and to hold, in sickness and in health from this day forward, forsaking all
others?” the vicar said to Mary.
Through his tears, he could just make out the nervous look Mary gave Michael before
answering and heard the soft grind in the back of her throat as she tried to clear it.
“I do.”
Michael threw the scrunched up tissue onto the floor to join the numerous other pieces of
tissue that had been haphazardly thrown, soggy from nose-blowing and crying. A box of half-
empty tissues lay on the coffee table next to the opened wedding album. A picture of Mary in
her memorable wedding dress looked back up at Michael baring her sweet smile. He
remembered how he wanted to make sure everything was just like she had imagined it as a
child and was glad when her face brightened up like a child opening a present on Christmas
Morning and finding the one thing he or she had asked for.
“You may kiss the bride.” the vicar said smiling.
Michael tried to watch as the two figures reached in and embraced for the first time on that
day and kissed a long, passionate kiss. Michael closed his eyes and tried to savour that
moment. He struggled, but held on to something that gave him warmth. Her lips were sweet
and warm, soft and caring and sent a million tingles through his nerves. It was like no other kiss
he had experienced and would be like no other he would experience again.
“Mary!” He cried, “Why did you go back to the shop?”
Brrrrrrrrrring, brrrrrrrrrring. The phone rang.
He ignored it, now was not a time to talk to anyone, he just wanted Mary back. It stopped
after a few rings, but Michael did not care. He watched as the newly married Mr. and Mrs.
Michael Cameron walked down the aisle with cheers and claps and massive smiles on their
faces. They had no cares for the future; everything would work out for them, because they had
love. Right on cue, the DVD sounds faded and was replaced by the Beatles Classic, „ All you
need is love’, Mary"s favourite song. He smiled as he remembered the discussion between
Mary and him about the song going on the wedding DVD. He had eventually given in to her
after she had put on a major sulk and stopped talking to him.
“I"m so sorry, Sweetheart I could not be there for you; I"ve let you down so much.”
Brrrrrrrrring, brrrrrrrrring. The phone rang again, Michael ignored it again. He really did not
want to talk to anyone, but for some reason this time, whoever it was, was being persistent.
The phone continued to ring and despite Michael trying hard to blot it out of his mind, he could
not and the brrrrring punched through into his thoughts making him stir. He stomped over and
picked up the phone, but it stopped just as he pressed the connect button. Tutting, he looked at
the caller ID, but his focus was drawn away when a knock sounded from the front door. He held
the phone in his hand and switched looks between the door and phone and back again. The
setting was typical of an old horror movie he had watched as a child, the scene just before the
villain bursts in and attacks the girl. That, however, was fiction, he reminded himself as the
knock on the door echoed around the house again.
He walked to the door still with the phone in his hand and slowly opened it half expecting a
boogieman to pounce upon him, but was confronted instead by a dark figure dressed entirely in
black wearing a cloak that reached the ground. His gloved hands were holding a walking stick
in front of him, but not, Michael noticed, for support, but rather for show. The visitor"s hood
covered his face perhaps to protect the owner from the fierce rain. He spotted how the drops
bounced vivaciously off his hood and shoulders. He stepped forward to block the doorway and
immediately felt numerous pinpricks stab his cheek with such force that pain surged in his face.
Despite the rain pelting down, the figure did not move urging Michael to ask, “Yes?” He really
could not think of anything else to say, although now that he had said that, thousands of things
flashed in his head.
“Michael, how are ye doin"?” the mysterious figure asked. He instantly recognised the voice
from the corridors of the school, “Are ye no" goin" to invite me in? It"s a terrible nicht.” His low
monotonous voice rumbled through the air.
“Of course, please come in, what brings you out here at this hour and,” Michael looked up as
if to see the source of the rain, “in this weather?” He sniffed and allowed the figure to walk in.
Michael did not offer to take his cloak or stick, as he had already decided the headmaster was
not going to stay too long. He wanted to be alone. Is that too much to ask? He was glad,
however, when the figure lowered his hood and confirmed his identity.
“I trust ye are coping.” The figure said looking round, “When I was informed of yer wife"s
demise, I came as quickly as I could to pass on my condolences.”
“It is not necessary,” Michael said with an absent mind.
“No, but I did none the same, ye are, after all, one of my valued staff. It is in my best interest
to ensure all staff receives the appropriate care and support, particularly if they experience
challenging times that could influence their performance.”
“Look, I appreciate the gesture, I truly do, but I would rather be alone at the moment.”
Michael moved his hand towards the door handle but stopped when the headmaster spoke
again.
“I also came to see if ye would come back to work.”
Michael froze and continued looking at the door handle, why are you coming on the evening
of Mary’s death to tell me to return to work? He straightened up and looked back at the elderly
man, “Sorry?” He really could not believe his ears, are you for real? “Did you not hear my wife
died today?”
“Aye, I did, in fact, I know from experience if ye stay here in yer home mopin" ye become far
worse than if ye returned to work, immediately.” That was enough to push Michael over the
edge, and he felt a mini-explosion in his mind. He opened the door, still looking at the
headmaster. Who the hell do you think you are, coming here and demanding I return to work?
You insensitive bastard! All of which he wanted to say and much more, but could not find the
strength.
“I think it"s time you left. I won’t be coming back to that school now or ever, I resign!”
Michael"s anger roared from every orifice in his head, but he could only muster growling through
his teeth. The headmaster continued staring at Michael for what seemed a long moment, if he
was at all affected by the sudden outburst, he did not show signs of any. Instead, he nodded.
The audacity! Michael wanted to rip his throat out, but something stopped him, something held
him to the spot. His body was so rigid it felt paralysed where he could only control his eyes. All
he could do, despite the ferocious rage that filled every molecule of his being, was watch the
headmaster raise his hood and walk towards the door.
“Aye, I"m not here to demand anything of ye and am not insensitive to your current situation.”
Michael"s eyes widened, did I say that out loud? “There is no need to work yer notice, I wish ye
well in yer future, Michael, my deepest condolences for yer loss.” His voice seemed lower than
a moment ago, it sounded like a deep throttle, “if ye change yer mind, Michael, be rest assured
the job will still be there.” Michael slammed the door more than he intended but did not care
how it affected the headmaster as he retreated to the lounge.
***
The dampness filled her nostrils. It was the putrid odour that made her nauseous, and
encouraged her to open her eyes. She felt groggy at best and tried to fight the urge to close her
eyes again. She looked around but could see nothing but black darkness. Having no idea
where she was or how she got there, she tried to stand, but soon realised the bangles she wore
round her wrists and ankles were much more than just jewellery. Pain began stinging her wrists
forcing her to writhe in agony and screw her eyes closed.
She slowly opened her eyes again and just looked ahead for a few moments to allow her
eyes to acclimatise to the darkness. Before long the little pricks of light penetrated the darkness
outlining part of a stone wall, puddles she hoped were not produced by humans and…
…nothing.
There was a smell of death about her and she could just hear the distant drip of some liquid
she presumed was water, just as a shiver rushed down her back.
Now fear was setting in.
