He never came.
Still, adorned in her flowing white gown, she waited. Pacing the stairway that led to the main foyer, her pale hands drifted over the worried scratch marks that her own fingers had, years ago, carved into the wood. But she no longer felt the cool banister as she descended the steps, no longer could hear the click of her heeled feet against the aged wood of the house.
Even the mirror that hung from her bedroom wall upstairs reflected nothing back when she gazed. Why couldn't she see her beauty on her own wedding day?
Time was endless. How much longer could he be? The clock on the wall never seemed to move, but still she waited. He promised he would be there. He promised he loved her. And she loved him, so she believed him.
His carriage must have lost an axle or a wheel. Maybe his horse broke something on his tack. He had to prevent a robbery from happening, so he stepped in and was now late to come get her. That must be it. The sheriff had a duty to perform, after all. Even on his wedding day...
Many came. But they were not him. They came and invaded the space of her halls, stealing, vandalizing, destroying family heirlooms that now sat dusty on cobwebbed tables. Such ruffians as these held no place in her home. But her impatience began to rage, and she longed for someone to talk to.
On the occasions she did show herself to them, specifically ones that she thought could be him, she was left gravely disappointed.
"Billy." She would call. Their necks would snap up in terror and their eyes would go wide. Such looks were insulting, she thought. A bride is a thing of beauty, not horror.
"Billy." She would try again.
"Who are you? What do you want?" They would respond, and she would realize they were not him. It was then the screaming began and their feet tried to carry them out of her home as fast as possible. But they would tell. They would inform the whole town and then the people would stop the wedding. It had to be a secret. She had to keep it hidden. So she dragged the terrified defilers into the basement. Their screams pierced her heart, but her love for Billy was stronger. She would not relent. Her actions still weighed heavily on her conscience, however. She walked back to her room and cried.
She wandered. The gardens, it's flowers long dead and the trees with shed leaves. The kitchens where she had spent to much time with her mother, its tabletops blanketed in dust. But she didn't dare start cleaning, lest she miss the moment when Billy would arrive to whisk her away.
In all her endless waiting, there came the time. A single man entered her home, fairly dressed. His brown locks were neatly trimmed and his blue eyes sparkled, even in the darkness of the house. Her own eyes widened. She began down the stairs towards him.
"Billy?" She asked, and she saw him smile slightly.
"Are you Lisa Gateman?"
He knew her name! It was him, it must be! Finally, someone said her name.
"Yes, I've been waiting." She had reached the bottom and glided towards him. Her smile was wide. He glanced around for a moment before looking back at her.
"You've been waiting a long time, haven't you?"
"Only since the morning, Billy." He looked pained for a moment, as though her words hurt him, and she panicked. "Billy, what is wrong?"
"Lisa, why is there red on your dress?" She looked down at it and her eyes widened in horror at the decrepit state of her wedding gown. There was a hole near her breast where the fabric had been torn. Splattered haphazardly around it were large blotches of red stains.
"Oh! What am I to do? The wedding is just an hour away! What will the priest say about my state?" Billy edged towards her slightly, holding his hands up in front of his face.
"Lisa, don't you remember what happened? Don't you remember what you did?" She frowned, wondering when she had spilled something red like this and somehow forgotten it. She shook her head and he sighed.
"You killed yourself, Lisa. With a pair of scissors from your bedroom. You're a ghost now." She laughed at his humor. He had always joked with her. She loved his jokes.
"No, look! I'm all dressed up for the wedding, Billy. What is this nonsense about?"
"Lisa, what is today's date?" She looked perplexed.
"Why, don't you remember our wedding date? It's the 11th of June in the year 1894 of our Lord. Billy, don't play games."
He sighed heavily, and suddenly she was very sad. Something wasn't right, and she thought she knew the reason. Her head drooped.
"Billy, you still love me, don't you? Are we still getting married?"
"Umm...yes, of course we are. I'm just waiting on you, Lisa." She smiled broadly. How silly of her to doubt him in the first place. He walked to the door and opened it with effort. He gestured for her to follow.
She couldn't contain her excitement. "We're finally getting married!" She gripped his hand in hers and crossed the threshold.
He had finally come.
"Dude, you were in there forever! What was the hold up?" Paul asked from the truck, honking the horn. "I know you're into all this supernatural crap but come on! We're gonna be late for Homecoming!"
Billy glanced one more time at the house, satisfied that Lisa's spirit had passed on. He no longer felt her hand on his and he couldn't detect any sad auras near the building anymore. He smiled, happy that Weeping Lisa could finally have her wedding day.
"Let's go!" Paul shouted.
"Coming!" He yelled, jogging back to the truck.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
