Every December 27th, compelled to visit his late wife’s grave, Max fulfils his duty, agonising over her suicide. Barely visible at the church gates, a shadow stands waiting, flickering like an old black and white movie.
He suppresses a shiver, frozen in his tracks. Max listens, straining to hear the haunting pipes of an organ playing “Here comes the Bride.”
Instantly, Samantha is beside him, her skeletal fingers entwined in his, bearing the gold band of wedlock. He locks his jaw, knowing what must come next. His throat heaves in revulsion; her bloodless eye sockets lock his.
Her first love is writing and has been honing her craft for many years. With painting her second love, her art is locally recognised for its seascapes. Well travelled, she once took a cruiser out to Alcatraz where she was locked in solitary confinement for an hour. "That hour, felt like days," she recalls with a sense of accomplishment.