Veiled

The years had started to waste away my edges till a talented seamstress with a love for vintage lace found me at an antique store down by the highway. Before I knew it I was back to nearly my former glory, time playing just a bit with color through my fabric. But sitting here in this boutique it seems like no one wants crisp white these days anyway. I’ve been only brought out to sample on a few rare occasions; something in the store owners mood, or the style of dress these women buy keeps me away at the top of the inventory closet, sealed up nice and tight. When I get a taste of the action, the romance, the glamor …it almost feels as if my prison sentence is about to expire. I will be free and ready for my second chance down the aisle. I will save a soul like I couldn’t save my own. I just need to find the right conduit to get me there.

—

The old part of town always seemed to be dripping in romance with its cobblestone streets, brick storefronts, and golden leaves falling over a white pavilion in the square. So when Thea needed to start shopping for her wedding dress, finding out there was a store at the end of the street tucked above the old antique store felt like a sign. She couldn’t help herself from seeing the perfect story unfold before she even stepped inside. Her and Charles even had their first date just down the street, so finding her dress from Busy Bridal would feel like serendipity.

The crisp autumn air fluffed out her hair as she walked down the sidewalk, 3 cinnamon lattes in hand. Her boots clacked in time to the Mariah Carey song stuck in her head. Looking up from her phone, she spotted her sister and her best friend down the street. Sherrie picked up speed, suddenly enveloping her into a tight and fuzzy bear hug, green cardigan sleeve wrapping around Thea. The coffee swayed in her grip as she maneuvered them to keep balance of the tray.

“I can’t wait to see you in these dresses.” Her sister, Quinn, squealed. Even being five years younger Quinn towered over Thea like a tree to a shrub. “It sucks Mom couldn’t be here today, but she’s coming to the next shop right?”

“As long as she’s not on call.”

“How much do you want to bet she is going to talk you into wearing her gaudy 1980s dress?”

“Oh she will totally bring it up as casually as possible.” Thea laughed. “I’m sorry but the amount of altering I would need to get done to make it not look like a Madonna costume would cost as much on my own dress.”

“You all need to show me sometimes I live for insane 80s fashion.” Sherrie grabbed the coffees from Thea’s hand and passed them out as they walked to the door.

The door chimed as they walked into a light pink room, mirrors lining one wall and a plush couch lining the other. The taffeta of white bloomed from the racks.

“Hi! You must be Thea!” A chic woman dressed in all black entered from double doors. “My name is Alexis, I will be helping you find your perfect dress today!” She smiled introducing herself to Sherrie and Quinn who get settled on the couch.

“Cause you filled out your pre appointment survey, we pulled some dresses already for you based on your preferred styles.” Alexis guided Thea into a Marie Antoinette themed dressing room. “We will start here and keep going with other options if nothing is speaking to you.”

The sun got lower in the window as dress after dress is pulled up and cinched on. Ballgowns, mermaid, cottage core, sequins. Just when Thea started to loose steam Sherrie pulled one final dress for her.

“I don’t know Sher.”

“Just try, for me? You look fabulous in all of the dresses and I know you wanted to find one here so give it one last try.”

Last dress on, she is led back out in front of Quinn and Sherrie.

“Oh Thea.” Quinns voice catches as Thea stepped from the dressing room, hiking her skirt up to not trip.

“I knew it.” Sherrie whispered.

“What it can’t be …” she stops talking stunned into silence by the woman she sees staring back at her.

“You look divine.” Alexis claps her hands. “Here let’s try some veils for the full affect.”

She returned with her arms overflowing in fabric.

“For this cut, I think you have some options. Shorter is very in and chic at the moment but honestly I see this dress with a statement veil.” Alexis hands her this gorgeous champagne that looks like it had been hand sewed, with intricate crafted lace lining the sides so they frame her face. “Now this is an antique, we aren’t sure how old exactly but it is in wonderful condition and has been waiting for the perfect dress and bride to be paired with. They really don’t make them like they used to.”

A buzz zipped through Thea as soon as the veil fell around her face. “This is the one” she turned to Alexis. “I’ll take it! The dress and the veil.”

Champagne is popped and the girls celebrate. The final paperwork is brought over to Thea, back in her street clothes. “Congratulations! The dress is ordered in your size and sent to the seamstress with the measurements. We will contact you in about 3 months when it is ready for the first fitting. Hey, don’t look too disappointed in having to wait, you can take the veil home today.” The box is placed in her hands. A little white bow speckled in glitter encircles the top.

“Is there anything special I need to do cause it’s antique?”

“Kept out of the sun and sealed in its airtight bag. That should be enough to get through the wedding then you can come back and get a memento box if you are interested.” Alexis motions to the box at the corner.

“Good luck, and have a happy marriage” she winked at Thea as she walked out the shop and down the stairs.

—

It was a dark and stormy night. In bed, Charles was already snoring while Thea tossed and turned for hours. Giving up, she grabbed her robe and a book and curled up on their couch. The patter of the rain picked up and Thea sunk deeper and deeper into the throws of sleep. The storm outside roused her with a clap of thunder.

Woken in a start she found herself on a chaise lounge in a parlor of a mansion. A maid entered through a gilded door.

“Ma’am, Mr. Richards is returning today. Would you like me to help you dress?”

A sudden panic ripped through her. She needs to leave before her husband is home. “No thank you” she called running past her maid as her thoughts began to spiral.

If my husband returns from his business trip in the city and I’m still here, he will make sure I’m watched even closer the next time he blesses me with his absence. Rational thoughts have seemed to erode under the consistent watch of the staff of the house.

She ran to her bedroom and finding no lock, wrenched a chair under the door.

Her father needed a connection to this awful man and she was used as a bargaining chip. Always told it would be her lot in life, she thought it would have at least been the life she saw her mother and aunts take part in. While she may have longed for more she was prepared for the life of a society woman and knew as long as she could be amiable with her husband she could live a quite decent life. But the day she met that dreadful man was the day the shackles descended onto her wrists.

It had been a year of feeling like the walls are closing in as the ladies maids watched her every move. She takes her allotted round about the garden with the footman waving from every angle. She can’t disappear yet she cannot be seen in society. The library is locked. The maids can not even engage in casual conversation. When she asked if they would make their debut together at the Hudson ball she thought his coldness was due to some stress with work, but when his palm collided with her cheek she knew she was not getting out of here. She was to be his pet - to be fed, fucked, and taken out for walks to keep fit. She was not to have a mind, a soul, or companionship.

Her heart raced as she filed off the wax on the windows of her second story room. The maids think she is stubborn but preparing to be ready for Mr. Richards return. She will be expected to be porcelain doll at his arrival.

At last the window creaked open but hooves and the roll of carriage wheels echo in the distance.

If he catches her leaving he will kill her. No doubt there. She must jump. Now.

She slips from the window pane and falls.

——

Groggy the next day, Thea tried to brush off the weird dream but the anxiety of her dream self lingered all day. She called her sister after work who chalked it up to wedding nerves after dress shopping.

“The brain does weird things, Thea”

“Yeah you’re right.”

The night came with another storm. She fell asleep on the couch again and is visited by the same desperation to escape her marriage to Mr. Richards.

She showed up to work quiet, bags under her eyes and exhausted.

I don’t know what’s going on she texted Sherrie.

Stop sleeping on the couch you’ll be fine!! Sherrie responded.

For months she had the same dream every time it rains. Every storm haunted by the need to escape the locked cage her dream self may be locked in. Her therapist blamed cold feet but she loves Charles she truly does. All she wants to do is marry him. But her subconscious seems to be saying otherwise.

Charles even called her out on her coldness and distance.

“I’ve just had a lot going on with work” she lied to his face.

She prayed to a god she hadn’t thought about in years for a sign or to cure what plagued the recesses of her psyche. Nothing changed. If one thing Thea is is stubborn. She is marrying Charles. He is not evil controlling Mr. Richards of her dream. He is a nice man. A good man. She loves him. She prays once the wedding passes so will these dreams.

——

Its the day of the wedding. I am there, waiting to be let free.

—

Quinn and Sherrie buzz around like busy bees helping Thea get ready.

“Just the veil left.” Quinn smiled at her sister. “And you know if you want to make a break for it we got you.”

A weak laugh escaped Thea’s lips. “No, no. Let’s do this. “ She glanced in the mirror noticing the bags under her eyes only partially hidden with makeup. The honeymoon should refresh them. A reset then back to normal life, no more stress with planning the wedding.

Quinn put her veil on and covered her face as they line up to walk down the aisle.

The piano starts, the bridesmaids walk, Charles is waiting at the end.

“Are you ready honey?”

Her dad took her arm and Thea seemed to move stiffly next to him. He took it as nerves.

At the alter Charles took her hands, staring at the outline of his fiancé’s face behind the veil.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Charles lifted the delicate veil and the crowd gasped. Thea is not there. A ghostly face sat in her place, decaying moths flutter away with the veil. The church is filled with the scent of something locked away for decades.

Charles was frozen in fear as the creature leaned in, but instead of a kiss she put her bony hands around his neck and squeezed.

A croaky cackle left her lips “I did not escape my fate but you will, Thea, you will.”

Charles fell to the floor still holding the veil, ripping it from the creatures head completely. The spirit left her body, letting Thea back in. She comes to in a stumble and found herself in front of her dead husband and a horrified crowd.