The Bride

Walking through the forest, my mind seemed to have drifted off to thoughts of my papa, a gentle man that usually got into trouble. Smiling, I recalled the first trip that we had, which brought us past the mansion.

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It was a dreary, raining day, and Papa and I was sitting on a train, much like the one I just took. Papa was wearing a tweed jacket over his white t-shirt, and khaki pants. I ,who was about six at the time, was wearing a white summer dress with a cute silver bow, my hair in soft curls. We were on our way to a trip to a museum, and we were just getting comfortable in the seat, talking about the ancient civilizations, when I first saw it.

"Papa," I pointed at the tall,majestic building," what's that?"

Papa looked to where I was pointing, and suddenly turned pale, grabbing my hand. He shoved his wire-framed glasses further on his nose, looking around suddenly, as if he was afraid to answer my question. Finally seeing the coast was clear he leaned down,whispering.

" That, my dear Anna, is Death's House.However, most people call it the Old Mansion."

I tilted my little head," So Death lives there Papa?"

Papa did another quick scan," Most of the people disown it, but I know he lives there."

Death lives? That question had bore an eternal question even at that age, but I let it go, even the condemned are allowed to live. We suddenly turned silent, not talking about the big house, until a thought occured to me.I turned to papa, lightly tapping his shoulder.

"Yes, Anna?" He peered at me from his glasses.

I looked around like papa did, and I cupped my hands and leaned into papa's ear.

"Papa, why must Death be all by himself with no friends or anyone to love him?"

He stared at me for the longest time, his blue eyes wide with shocked at my question. Then, he quickly smiled and gave me a hug, calling me sweet. I smiled at his approval, and snuggled deeper into his side.The rest of the train ride was quiet, and meanwhile I kept wondering who Death would love. If he could.

"Anna,I have something to tell you, but you must not tell anyone,"

I turned to papa,nodding my head. He smiled and leaned forward.

"Death is by himself, waiting for the one person to fill his broken heart. He is waiting for his bride."
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I remember looking at papa with amazement. Death was waiting for his princess? How sweet, I thought.However, at that age, I was too naive to know how people truly viewed him. But we were diffrent, Papa and me. They considered diffrent people outcasts,demons, troublemakers. And that was too wrong and unhealthy for the rest of the world.

I soon learned that the world didn't take too kindly to diffrent people. My dad learned that the hard way. I clenched my fists at the thought, my eyes closed shut, trying to block out the pain.

Yeah, we found out the hard way, I thought, we both did.

Like I said, being diffrent is deadly. They killed my dad for being diffrent.