A Glossy Wedding Day With A Blurry Finish

“Before I didn’t know where I was,” she paused with a gracious smile towards the man employed to film the big day and met one night spontaneously entering a dark room. “Then you with your camera captured my high school image.”

Knowing that the once in a lifetime opportunity was only hours away the photographer adjusted his focus and remembered the paycheck that would be delivered. “Here are some of the things I wanted to show you,” he proudly announced, “we have the glossy version and then we have the blurry one.”

“Why would you sell me the blurry photos?” The future bride asked.

“Let’s just say when the pageantry is complete and you find out on the honeymoon the honorable maid went too far waxing the dance floor,”

“Ah, that won’t be a problem,” she laughed, “we have been friends since grade school.”

“No rush you have until you get back from your peaceful rest vacation,” he exclaimed, “it is the glossy or blurry package,” then a pause set in, “I do run a discount for both, sometimes it is nice around the third month together and someone wants to send a message to the other partner.”

Feeling a bit shaken hearing the realistic reality, the bride headed home to sleep on the thought.

Later the next day when she was being prepped like a model getting ready for everyone to admire, the bride found her stomach in knots thinking it was a side effect from the comment made by the hired help. “Was she making the right decision?” This debate haunted the final cosmetic make up application session to the one-day fantasy trip until off in the distance there was a yelling voice, “let’s go!”

An hour later she walked down the aisle then when another sixty minutes elapsed, off to a party she was whisked to inside a well-known establishment where she had only been a few times in her life, eight proms where she swept all belle of the ball acknowledgements that were handed to her in respectable fashion.

“I liked the dance floor,” she said to herself as everyone clanked their glasses and she peered at the man next to her showing a quizzical look, “is there something you want?”

“Shall we take our first time together?” A gentlemen whisper flowed in her ear.

That is when a burning sensation turned into a flaming rage. Realizing it was not the two for one roast beef and gravy dinner that only a few minutes ago sat on her plate the bride started to sweat out the situation.

“Of course, I will,” the Princess for a day agreed. Imitating a King escorting the Queen pictures were taken and next year’s Christmas Card chore was complete leaving loving each other the only priority.

Then it happened like being pushed by a ghost the groom slipped and collapsed, now lifeless. Letting out a scream the innocent white dressed glamorous center of attention changed her romantic fairy tale character to a horrific slasher survivor as quick as a vengeful author’s imagination working on the computer keyboard.

“I am here to help,” the honorable maid offered seeing blood stains invade the hardwood.

“You did it again!”

A few weeks passed and the body was shipped across the country back to the family who traveled here for a union and went home divided. Sitting quietly immersed in a lonely, isolated state the widow peered out and watched the honorable maid approach the house with the photographer.

Knocking on the door the bride decided to drop her guard again “we were wondering if you wanted the glossy type or blurry?” The honorable maid inquired.

An angry stare sent a message that the widow seemed upset, “why?”

“Why?” The honorable maid repeated, “why what?”

“How?” A tear ran down the widow’s cheek.

“He loved his pieces of meat,” she told her, “Just like all the popular ones you paraded around with through the years.”

“How many did you make disappear?” The widow wanted an answer.

"They are all in a better place now,” the honorable maid backed off from her cleansing duties.

“And you?” The widow turned her attention, “why didn’t you disappear?”

“Excuse me,” the photographer pulled the portfolio out, “ma’am, I have a tight schedule, glossy, blurry or both?”

“Both,” she grinned planning her next move.