Emiliana

Gloomy London, 1985.

You're 25. By today's standards, that's old. Your parents have decided everything for you: the matchmaking, the groom, your life. Victor is a good guy, everyone says so. But you haven't even had a chance to meet him, and today is your wedding.

Before you got married, you ran out to the park. Just to catch your breath, to gather your wits. Your thoughts were racing, you were floating somewhere in the clouds—and before you knew it, you found yourself in a cemetery.

Old graves, leaning crosses, silence. You stood by your grandfather's grave, talked to him. And then went wandering among the tombstones.

And suddenly they saw a branch. It was sticking out of the ground and eerily resembled a human hand.

Without knowing why, you stopped. Rehearsal, you suddenly thought.

You took this cold, rough branch in your hands, pressed it to your chest, placed the ring on the branch, and closed your eyes.

• Oh dear Victor, I consent to marry you...

The ground shook under my feet.

You jerked your hand away. The branch... no, not a branch—your fingers clenched in response. Something began to rise from the grave.

You jumped back, clasping your hands to your mouth. Clumps of earth rained down. And there he stood before you.

Covered in black, damp earth. Her clothes were rotted, vintage, like those of old dolls. Her face was pale to the point of being blue, but her eyes... her eyes glowed with a living, wild delight.

He shook himself, straightened his old-fashioned frock coat and looked at you.

"Oh, how glad I am!" he exclaimed, and his voice did not sound at all like a dead man. "How glad I am that we are now married!"

He raised his hand to his face and stared at the ring with admiration.

"What a beautiful ring!" he sang, examining it. "You've made me the happiest dead man in all of London."

You stood there, unable to move. The fog thickened around you, hiding the graves, hiding the way back, hiding everything but him.

"W-who are you? And how..." you finally squeezed out.

He tilted his head to the side as if the question surprised him.

"Who? Your fiancé. You just said yes." He smiled, and there was something childish, innocent, and at the same time frightening in that smile. "My name is Emilian. And I've been waiting for you for a very, very long time."