Man, am I on a story kick lately! I keep switching from updating new chapters to getting different story ideas from movies, and I just HAVE to write them down!

Reviews are appreciated!

James Van Dort straightened the lapels on his suit jacket and sighed, staring in the mirror before him. He leaned in close to study himself, tilting his head this way and that; he was pale, like both his parents before him, and had lighter shade of brown hair as compared to his father's own black, and had his mother's green eyes. He supposed he looked more like his mother than his father, although they shared the same lithe, long legged build as opposed to burlier men.

Today he was to meet the woman he was supposed to be arranged to marry, Elizabeth Riverton, and he dreaded it so. His sister, Mary, knew the older girl and had informed him of her greedy tendencies, something that he was not sure he would be able to stand should the go through with it; neither sibling approved of the idea, quite frankly. Of course, some arranged marriages turned out alright—take their parents, for instance, who were very much in love. But some did not end well and left both, or in lesser cases, one, of the spouses unhappy because their partner could not come to love them, or because they did not get along.

Allowing another sigh when the door opened, he did not turn, and instead watched as his father, Victor, came to stand behind him and place both hands on his shoulders.

"It will be alright," he reassured his son lightly. "After all, you won't have to deal with any of the complications I had to before my wedding to your mother."

"Complications?" James's brows furrowed, and he turned. His father dropped his hands. "What complications?"

"That is not of importance."

"Father," pleaded the nineteen-year-old. "Please, I want to know."

"It's...quite a story to tell. I'm afraid you won't believe me, but…" Victor glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. "We have just enough time to tell, I suppose. Have a seat, son."

James quickly seated himself in a chair, his father doing the same and taking the one across from him.

"I was your age," he began. "And had just met your mother. She found me in the main hall, playing the piano, and of course I found that I liked her immediately upon meeting. However, I made quite a fool of myself and her mother, your grandmother, showed up and interrupted us; she did not approve of us being alone together. It was less proper then than it is now." The man sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the chair. "We were practicing our vows, and I made a fool of myself yet again. So, I made myself scarce and ran into the forest to get some air; along the way, I found myself in a graveyard, under an old oak tree, attempting to practice my vows. I had just gotten them right, of course, and I suppose I got a little cocky, for I slid the ring meant for your mother onto the branch of a tree that looked rather like a hand." James leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees, listening. He did not know where this was going, but he did not speak. "Well, as it turned out, it was." Victor chuckled to himself. "A woman crawled out of the ground, and when I laid my eyes upon her, I was shocked. Her skin was blue, as you would associate with the dead, her hair was dark, and she had the most expressive eyes I've ever seen...she was also wearing a torn wedding dress. She followed me, and I was so frightened that I ran; however, I didn't get very far besides the bridge and I suppose I fainted, for when I awoke that corpse bride was staring down at me, and over a dozen other blue tinted people and skeletons as sounds bizzare, I know, but I'm not crazy—it's very real, and you can ask your mother so."

Victor continued to tell the tragic tale of the Corpse Bride, Emily, and how in the very end, though he cared for her greatly and was just about to commit suicide so that he could marry her as he promised, she let him go (and it would have been suicide, drinking that poison). And so, the Corpse Bride disappeared into the night, never to be seen or heard of again.

James pondered over this, and decided that, though it seemed incredibly far fetched, it was not something someone could just make up, least of all his father, even less his mother, should he ask her later.

The clock rang out, and the men stood, making their way to the door. As they descended the stairs, he caught a glimpse of a plump girl his age wearing a very tight corset, and it seemed that her breasts did not quite fit right inside, for she seemed to be having trouble breathing. When she caught sight of him, a smile made its way onto her face-it seemed rather forced, to him, but if the spark in her eyes was anything to go by, she definitely liked what she saw.

Quite honestly, the same could not be said for himself. She nearly had a double chin, and though he did not mind her plumpness, he found the corset far too tight and unnecessary, and the look in those mud brown eyes of hers unnerved him.

But, she was his betrothed and a guest in his home, so he nevertheless swiftly bowed to her and pressed a kiss to the back of her outstretched hand.

"Madam Riverton," he greeted, peering up at her from his bow as he straightened, pushing an unruly lock of hair back upon his head. "A pleasure to finally meet my bride to be."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Van Dort," giggled Elizabeth. "Please, call me Elizabeth."

James managed a half hearted smile at her when he saw his mother's approving an encouraging look. "Then you must call me James."

"It is time for the two of you to practice your vows," announced Mrs. Riverton, while Mr. Riverton nodded rather carelessly in agreement, eyes roving all over the house and stopping finally on Mary, who, as he could tell, shifted uncomfortably but smiled politely nevertheless. "Shall we?"

"Yes, yes," floundered Victor, who had obviously forgotten that part when he diverted his attention. "Please, do follow me."

He and Victoria led the way, and Mary and James followed along behind, exchanging wary glances at each other and over their shoulders at the Rivertons.

There was something off about them...something off indeed.

~~~xxx~~~

"With this hand I lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," James held his right hand aloft, and held the candle in the other. He tipped it toward the candle on the table and allowed the tip to alight, before carefully pulling his arm back. "With this candle, I will light your way into darkness. And with this ring…" He pulled the ring from his pocket, and he could hear his father let out a sigh of relief at how well things were going, obviously remembering when he had been the one practicing his own vows.

James met the eyes of Elizabeth, who was not staring at him, but at the ring, unblinking; it was a simple gold thing, but perhaps that was the problem. Maybe she did not like it?

He stared at her for a moment, feeling his stomach twist. He really did not want to do this, and saying those last words would only make it all the more real. He did not want to be tied to this woman forever—it did not seem right in the slightest.

But he had to, and so he would.

"With this ring," he repeated. "I ask you to be mine." And then, for the practice, he slid it onto her finger and she smiled widely, gazing down at it.

They stood there in silence for a rather awkward few moments, before the minister interrupted, "Alright, give back the ring. It's meant for the actual ceremony, you must remember."

"Alright, alright," said Elizabeth, though the hint of the whine in her voice was clear enough as she returned the ring, and James pocketed it once again. "I was merely inspecting it. It's beautiful."

"I bought it myself," murmured James, before glancing over at his parents. He felt rather hot, and that sick feeling in his stomach had not yet vanished. "May I be excused? I think I need some air."

Victor started a bit at that, and Victoria seemed a bit reluctant as well, but he smiled reassuringly at them and they finally nodded.

So, he left the house at a brisk pace and found himself wandering through the forest aimlessly.

"Why is it me? Why must history repeat itself this way? Why do I have to marry a woman I disliked from the very start?" He sighed as he strolled along, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm not my parents. I don't know if I can even do this…"

He suddenly stumbled, but caught himself just in time and glanced about. Gravestones, enormous, old oak tree….

How had he come to be here, of all places? Why had his subconscious led him to this place, the one his father said he himself had stumbled upon before his great adventure?

I wonder, thought James. If anyone would answer if I called. An adventure sounds like exactly what I need right now, before I find myself tied down and bound to Elizabeth Riverton for the rest of my life.

"Is anyone there?" He turned this way and that, but was only met with the squawking of the crows on the branches above. "Please, is there anyone who can hear me? I only want to meet with you, any of you!"

Still silence. With a great sigh, James seated himself on a rock and put his head in his hands, threading his fingers through my hair.

"Who am I kidding? This would never have worked. I'm a living person, why would they feel the need to answer my calls? And now I'm talking to myself, wonderful…"

There was complete silence in the forest, and it was rather unsettling considering the racket the crows had been making before.

The ground trembled, and for a moment he thought it might be an earthquake, until a skeletal hand broke free of the ground and latched onto his ankle; James yelped and attempted to jerk away. He forgot all about his calls and pleas when he saw it, for it had shocked him so badly he actually felt frightened.

He could not get away, and the tugging did not stop. Instead, it intensified until he could no longer withstand it and found himself being drug into the ground, until he was falling, falling, falling into the darkness.

~~~xxx~~~

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the ground and several people staring back at him.

No, not people.

Skeletons. Corpses.

As he scrambled to his feet, he found himself bumping straight back into the body of a skeleton with a dark suitcoat and stylish mustache, and it—he?—laughed and clapped the young man on the back.

"Another living one!" he cried good-naturedly, leaning closer. "Looks rather like the last one, this one does. Say, Emily, doesn't he look like Victor?"

Emily? was currently the only thought running through James's mind right now. Had he really done it, made it to the world of the dead, the world down below? Does that mean I'm...no, surely not, father is still alive…

"I don't know," said the corpse woman behind the skeleton, eyes flickering over him once before she turned her head.

"You're the one who brought him here! Shouldn't you know who he is?"

"I don't know, Albert. He called, and I brought him down. But he shouldn't be here." She wrapped her arms around herself. "It's not like he'll stay."

The skeleton, Albert, gently shook his head and turned. "What's your name, kid?"

"James," managed James, watching the Corpse Bride with wide eyes. "James Van Dort."

"You don't say!" exclaimed another skeleton, who only had one eye and wore a bowler hat. He recalled his father calling this one Bonejangles. "Are you ol' Victor's son, grandson, great-grandson, or what?"

"I'm his son." James noticed that Emily had frozen, and was now staring at him with a carefully blank expression, lips pursed. "He told me about you, all of you, just today...I wanted to see for myself."

"Well, you don't have some little living bride up there waiting for you, do ya?"

James felt that sick feeling return, and the Corpse Bride's arms tightened around herself. "I wouldn't say little…"

"You don't like her, then?" cut in Albert, obviously curious as he held his pipe aloft.

"I haven't gotten the chance to know her," the young man tried to sound diplomatic, but really could not help himself from continuing. "But so far, no, I don't particularly. She doesn't seem like a very nice woman."

"Then why not say no?"

James sighed, lifting a hand to smooth over his hair with. This was absurd, talking to dead people like this, but he supposed that if it were real and he wasn't going crazy, what would be the harm? They were speaking to him, and it was only polite to speak back; besides, he found himself quite curious of this new place. "I can't. It would disappoint my parents, and I would rather not do that. They've been very good to me."

"I hear you, my friend." The skeleton man nodded in sympathy, before giving him a wide mouthed, toothy grin. "How about we throw you a bachelor party, eh? It'll be great fun! That's what you're here for, isn't it? Fun?"

The alive boy's eyes made to find Emily yet again, and found that she had disappeared. "Yes, exactly, fun."

This seemed to be the right response, for the band started playing immediately and Bonejangles began to sing; as everyone else joined in, James found a mug of some sort of alcohol shoved into his hand by Albert.

"Go on, drink up!"

"It won't kill me?" James peered at the liquid inside the cup with a frown. He did not want to be stuck here permanently, since he still had his parents and sister to get back to.

"Course not." He was clapped on the back. "Go on, have one and let's get to kicking!"

He took an experimental sip, and Albert waited patiently. When he realized that the liquid had indeed not killed him, he tipped back the entire thing and chugged it all down; when he set the mug on the countertop, he found himself subject to another one of the skeleton man's grins, and could not stop himself from doing the same as he was pulled off and forced to dance.

"Come on, then!" yelled General Bonesapart, who was standing on the counter, sword sticking out of his chest, and shimmying about with a mug in his hand. "Dance, living boy!"

"I, er…" James did not quite know what to do now, and turned to Albert for help. The skeleton was already spinning about and even lifting his head off his shoulders, and since James himself could not do that, he attempted to move with the beat. After a few moments, when he was not judged or ridiculed as he would have been in the aboveland, he found himself gaining confidence and moving with to the rhythm.

"There you go!" Albert grinned proudly at him, and the mood was honestly very infectious as he continued to dance.

Perhaps it would not be so bad to spend a bit of time here; after all, they were throwing him a bachelor party.