She walked down the isle dressed in black for the happiest day of her life. The color, which she had so grown accustomed to, would paint the rest of her life with deep washes of gray. I watched her walk down the isle to the so-called man of her dreams. Death awaited her at the end, dressed in all his hooded vanity that seduced her from the beginning. His aged and cracked bony smile greeted her when she approached him, but she saw past the obvious portentous omen joyfully to see only the imaginary pureness in his black little heart.
Yes, she and I both knew he was unhealthy for her, but she truly loved him, and I dared not interfere, for, if I did, it would have driven her farther into his life-taking arms. I’d made the mistake of piercing both their hearts with my arrows without seeing his bouquet of smoke and illness, and now I, Cupid, could not break them apart. All I could hope for was that Death was merciful and would end up being what was best for her emotionally, because he obviously would not be best for her health-wise.
Death made her happy, even though he made her sick.
She shined with a sickly-white glow and her eyes beamed through their milky dullness. Her yellow smile lit up the room. The funeral march joyously sounded through the halls of the church and the death knell rang proudly outside. The priest happily gave the service and couple said their “I-Do’s.” The priest dared anyone to state why the two should not be wed. Everyone in attendance was yelling silently: the bride’s parents, both victims of Death’s gifts for over twenty years; her grandfather’s ghost, whose life was taken by the cancer Death gave him on his birthday; and her friends who were constantly wrapped in the suffocating, smoky emotional turmoil Death forced upon them by his mere presence. I stepped forward—the cherub who had so eagerly pierced their hearts together—and opened my mouth to fearlessly stop this union of my best friend and this man (if he can so be called), who would provide for her future and family only doom; but words and voice failed me when I saw how happily and lovingly they looked at each other. They both knew how I felt, and if that hadn’t stopped them before, why should it now?
The happy couple shared a smoke-filled kiss that stained the rest of her life. The death knell grew louder and the organ started up again. The crows were released and the rainclouds gathered to share their blessings. I stood with the heavy-hearted, guilt-ridden crowd as we saw them ride off into the night in their gussied-up hearse.