The Bride.
By Tiffany the Fabulous.
Everyone kept saying that the wedding wasn’t going to work out from the beginning. Amy had been positive about the whole thing, knowing that Jacob was the one for her. It didn’t matter, she told herself, what her family thought about him, or his past relationships, all that was important was that they were in love.
And it hadn’t seemed unreasonable to drive herself to the church. They weren’t rich and Jacob loaned her his ‘92 Chevy Pickup. “It’ll be a wedding to remember,” he’d saed. She began walking, and somehow veered off the road, and now was lost in the depths of some kind of bog.
Amy had stopped her crying about an hour ago, and was now singing old nursery-school songs to keep her mind off her predicament. She had just ripped off a piece of her dress to tie to a tree as a marker, when she realized she had just walked into a patch of some kind of mud.
“Shit,” she cursed, “Great. Just great, dammit.” Amy tried yanking her bare foot out (the eighty-dollar white satin wedding slippers were lost a long time ago) with two hands, but to no avail. The first whisps of panic began to wash over her, and with trepidation, she discovered she was stuck in a pool of quicksand.
“God,” she whispered, her fear growing by the second. She didn’t actually appear to be sinking, but there was no way she was going to get herself out of this one. Her ankles were covered with the greenish-brown muck, but it didn’t seem to be rising. However, whether or not she was sinking was relatively unimportant at this point. She was stuck in quicksand, and she was not getting out.
“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” she told herself rapidly. “You can get out of this, you just have to ... have to ... yell! You have to yell for help and someone’s going to come save you, just yell! HEY! HEY OVER HERE! PLEASE SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP ME! MY NAME IS AMY LAWSON, I’M THE BRIDE THAT WENT MISSING, HEY CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? HEYYYYYYYY! I’M STUCK IN QUICKSAND, PLEASE, SOMEBODY! QUICKSAND, HELP! HEEELLLLLLP!”
Two hours later, she was hoarse and desperate enough to struggle madly, grabbing onto whatever was within reach, thinking that perhaps if she grabbed onto something, she could pull herself out. She was beyond reason at this point, and was trying to sing every song she could think of as some way of attracting attention. She was fighting to free herself without losing her balance and pitching forward, when she heard a noise to her left.
A person was there. With almost mad relief, Amy began weeping, “Oh thank God, thank Jesus fucking Christ, can you please help me? Here, just grab my arms, please, just grab... Hello? Just g-grab my arms, I can’t get out without your help ... I’m stuck! Hey! Hey? I’m- I’m.... Hey! HEY! I CAN’T GET OUT, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? I’M IN QUICKSAND, HEY!”
The person was just staring, standing there enveloped in darkness staring at her as she reached her arms out to beg for help. “PLEASE! PLEASE! Oh God, you’re just... you’re just standing there watching me and I NEED YOUR HELP!!! HEYYYYY! Oh Godof
ChristI’mstuckIneedyourhelppleasepleasehelpmehelphelpmeHELPMEEEEEE!”
Amy began weeping in earnest, sobbing as she fought to pull her legs up and out, screaming all the while. She put both hands on one leg at a time, simultaneously hopping, thinking maybe she could try to jump right out at the same time...
And then the person beside her was picking at her dress, ripping away little snippets of the white fabric. And Amy realized with ultimate horror that it was a vulture. It was an oversize purple vulture picking at her dress, and she had the feeling that soon it would be picking at her. Completely panicking now and not thinking of anything except that, she began screaming. Not actual words, but just high-pitched shrieking that echoed through the swamp like a fire engine.
Waving her arms frantically, she began her frenzied jumping again, only this time she fell forward, her arms sinking immediately up to the wrists. She tried yanking her hands out, but it was of no use. She again screamed with horror as she felt a heavy pressure on her back and the terrible realization that the vulture had landed on her. Its beak was in her hair now, and she felt blood trailing down her neck. The bird made a dreadful eeeeek! noise and bit off her left ear with a sickening rip. She felt a burning sensation where her ear had once been, and tried frantically to free her hands, but they were completely immersed in the quicksand. The vulture was now digging a soft hole into the hardness of her skull and a wave of dizziness swept over her.
She felt something cold and slimy leaking out of the back of her head, and with mad horror she knew it was her brain. The vulture was feasting on the contents of her cranium and there was nothing she could do. It began leisurely pecking at the back of her neck, and Amy began to cry again. She thought about Jacob and the wedding, the guests lined up for the receiving line, and as everything began to go black, she thought she could hear the wedding march being played just for her.
But it was only the eerie shriek of the vulture calling its friends to join the feast.
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