To Love
I remember it. The sensation was not of life, no, buut of the damp earth, pressing roughly against my skin. It was indeed a slow, agonizing awakening, much like a seed pushing its way through the soil, except instead of being greeted by sunlight, I was greeted by the pale, haunting glow of the moon filtering soundly through the graveyard's willow canopy, giving the illusion of peace. I was Emily, the Corpse Bride (yes, the tales are true), and my life, or rather, my death, had been quite the affair not to bother anyone, it had indeed been an overlooked whisper drifting in the forgotten annals of time. Then, one unexpected day, an ungenteel, noisy young lad bequethed the name of Victor stumbled (basically tripped) into my unnoticeable grave. He was rehearsing his wedding vows (the nerve!), his voice reverberating eerily in the frozen stillness, and in his timid fumbling, he dropped the wedding ring onto my finger, thinking that it was only a tree-root (he has to be forgiven for tha