OK, so here comes my first Corpse Bride story. It´s just an one-shot, so don´t expect any continuation. And as I write to all stories of mine – sorry for any mistakes I´ve made. I´m Czech, so I hope you will forgive me. Well, enjoy the story.
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She knows the music that she plays really well. Of course, she has to. Not that it was played in her life – and unlife – that often, no. She played it twice. Just twice. But every time, it was for the man she loved. Truly loved. And she always thought that he was the right one for her, the love that comes only once in your life.
The tune is soft, touching and – sad. Didn´t she know when she played it for the first time, what destiny awaits her? Didn´t she know that the sad song would become so descriptive about her tragic life? Didn´t she know...
The songs stops. But instead of a dead silence, which is really common in the Land of Dead at night, there´s a different sound. Someone sobs in the dark of the streets. She doesn´t care. Well, perhaps she would, few days ago. She would rush to the unhappy person and embrace him to lift his sorrows.
With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.
Oh, sure you will. Yes, you have lifted my sorrows, dear Victor. But only to drop them again, holding them high, so they would crush me again, more painfully than ever before. Not that you did know anything about the pain you would cause to me. Who would think that a corpse will feel anything?
But the corpses and skeletons could feel, she knew really well. She has seen adult men – corpses, of course – cry, when they came to the Land of Dead, weeping about their families, for losing the chance of being upstairs and watching their sons and daughters going trough their childhood. She always listened patiently, not mentioning the fact that she never had the chance to have children and that they lived at least a bit of life she never had. She´s heard tragic stories, many heartbreaking tales and she´s pitied the suffering ones, assuring them everything would be okay.
And it always would be, they would lose themselves in the fun that was present everywhere in the Underworld, Bonejangles would sing, they would laugh and drink and when, sometimes, their flesh started to rot, they weren´t troubled, they were just curious. They would shout „Hey, take a look! George´s lost another finger! Dear boy, don´t you remember where you put it?!" and laugh again at the confused faces of the newbies who came. They would soon learn that everything was better here – the eternity of fun and no worries at all. What could harm you, when you´re dead? And she would always be there, caring for the ones who couldn´t handle the fact that they are dead and they have to let go.
Not today. She had enough of everything.
The bony fingers clap on the keyboard again as she starts to play another melody. She thinks of a name for it. Perhaps Brokenhearted or I am just too sympathetic to be loved would describe the feel of it. A single tear escapes from the beautiful eye. Since she departed the world „Upstairs", she kept wondering why did she have to ruin the rest of her existence by letting Victor go.
But he didn´t belong to her and she knew it very well. That´s why she set him free, and he returned her the favor. She didn´t have to spend the eternity under the tree, buried, returning there every night and waiting. She was free, she could have gone to Heaven. But she hasn´t. Somehow, she was sure her home was here, in the Land of Dead.
Emily laughs, bitterly. Bitterness is exactly what she feels; the only thing that makes her satisfied is that the man that murdered her and stole her heart is now highly regretting his previous actions – sometimes she comes to the dungeons of the city and listens to his screams, as her dead companions torture him, again and again. They don´t do it to make her happy, they know that she dislikes violence – they hate him, deeply and furiously, because of what he´s done to their Emily. To their beautiful, sad and grieving Emily.
The hand, which has a flesh on it, rolls into a fist and hits the keyboard, hard. She lets all of her grief, all of her anger and sadness erupt as she cries, choking with her sobs, matching the whines from outside. Yes, she has always been here for everyone who needed her – but who has been here for her?
Just play, that´s all you can do. Play and express everything you need. Play, because the music is the only thing that stays true to you.
Although her cheeks are still wet from the tears, her fingers find the keyboard again and she finishes the melody. As the last tune drowns in the silence – even the outside is quiet now – there´s a soft clapping noise beside her. She turns and sees Bonejangles, standing in the doorway. A brief smile passes her lips as he sits beside the piano, looking at her.
„You play real´ nice, kid´," he says quitly and grins, if a skeleton can do that, at the bright blush spreading over her blue cheeks. He reaches to her and squeezes her hand. „You alright?"
Of course I bloody am not! she wants to scream at him, but smiles again and whispers that everything is fine. But he just watches her knowingly and shakes his skull.
„Ya know, I´ve noticed that you care ´bout everyone but yourself . You always ask but never tell how ya feel. An´ don´t think I can´t see this," he wipes some of her tears away by his finger. „Doesn´t seem like Alright to me. I may have just one eyeball, but I´m not blind. C´mon, I don´t bite." She eyes him suspiciously, not knowing what to say. He clears his throat again („What a stupid habit once you´re dead", he usually says) and continues. "I´d say you need to talk. An´ I´m right here when you need it. I just wanna let you know that we all care ´bout ya. Especially," he adds quietly, „some of us..."
Now it´s her turn to grin, all her sadness forgotten at the moment. She hugs the skeleton tightly and he returns the embrace. They both know how ridiculous this is – sitting in the pub, at the midnight, hugging each other. There would be a good amount of gossip about the two of them in the city in the morning if someone saw them, but none of them cared. And when a soft „Thank you" escapes Emily´s lips, Bonejangles just smiles to himself.
She releases him, at least. His look makes her chuckle and she doesn´t protest when he whispers „Much better. So, would you play for me a bit, babe?"
Emily just nods as her fingers trace the piano again, playing the most optimistic song she´s ever heard for years. And she knows that there´s a new, fresh start for her, that although broken many times, her heart is whole again. And maybe, after some time, she may be able to give it again.
Play, just play.