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By @HRJafael
The bride’s dress was red. A crimson stain flushed its lily-white color as it dragged behind, rippling in the rush, spraying red droplets behind it. A blur of red trailed behind, a fine mist of unintended color. They were everywhere.
And this how the story ends, the bride thought. I say “I do” and instead of the ancient church-bells ringing, I get gunshots. They pierced the air in surprise, disrupting the peace that once prevailed in the church. It had been some wedding. She had to keep running–she wasn’t supposed to but her life depended on it. Just let us get through this–there was still a chance…
Her hand was clutched tightly in the groom’s hand, reassuring in all of this mess. They both were running down a narthex hallway that had descended into chaos straight out of a shooter game. Everything was disturbed and nothing was going the way anyone planned. The attack had been imminent, designed, and struck with lethal precision. Yet somehow they find themselves from the chapel to here, enemies on their tail. With one hand intertwined with his bride’s, the groom held a small pistol in the other stretched forth like an arrow, taking short calculated shots at the obstacles that blocked their way.
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