The celebrities mentioned in this chapter died in 1989. However, this story is actually set now so time is a little funky. I might be adding some celebrities from the nineties if I do another waiting room scene, but we'll see.

The celebrities mentioned are Huey Newton and Lucille Ball in that order.

Please note that previous chapters have been updated and if any more problems are found in them, they will be updated again. As will all the chapters.

About Nine Years after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm
Lydia has recently turned twenty-four

Lydia smiled at the happy couple. Most photographers she knew hated weddings, but Lydia loved them. That's why her boss always had her do them when he could. Now that she was starting to make a name for herself it was easier. People were always requesting her and that made Lydia smile even more.

This particular couple was fairly normal; white dress, yellow and white flowers, little girls in fluffy dresses. Frankly, it was kind of adorable. It was probably meant to be regal or grand or something, but not for someone whose whole life was weddings.

Lydia had seen some amazing weddings. They ranged from courthouse weddings to mansions, though she was lucky to get those mansion jobs. Then there were the themed ones, the dark ones, and definitely the over-the-top ones. Lydia liked them all. She could even manage a bridezilla.

The ones in churches were best. To Lydia, there was something utterly soothing about entering that church, sitting peacefully until she was needed under all that sweeping architecture. Even the small or dark churches brought her some peace in her crazy life.

This wedding should be over soon. They only needed her for the first thirty or forty minutes of the reception and the minister was wrapping up. Lydia readjusted her angle to get a shot of the groom's face.

He looked stupid with happiness, with a little goofy grin plastered over his face and eyes that couldn't seem to settle on the minister or his wife. His wife, on the other hand, looked blissful. Some brides looked smug, but this one obviously knew she had made the right choice and was grateful to have found a great guy.

Lydia knew the bride's calm came at a high price. Several things had gone wrong, as they always do, and instead of trying to hide it from the bride, everyone had brought the problems to her. She had just smiled and given them some logical alternative. Lydia had been stunned until the room had cleared and the bride's face crumpled. Sometimes it was easier to cry to a stranger and this was one of those times. The bride confided her worries in Lydia. Lydia had soothed them easily; they were the same worries that all brides had. Then the serene look had come back and it was like nothing had ever gone wrong.

Lydia's fingers had itched for a camera during that transformation. The woman was beautiful when she smiled like that. Instead, Lydia settled for getting the modest half-smile she wore now.

About two hours later Lydia walked into her apartment with a tired sigh. She knew she'd gotten some great shots and had even been given some leftovers, but she was exhausted from lugging the heavy camera around and dealing with all those people. Setting her equipment carefully in its corner, she moved to her desk.

On her desk was a large black scrapbook. Lydia ran her fingers across it in a gesture that was both loving and apologetic. "Not this time, but next week looks promising," she cooed to it.

Smiling softly, she moved on, ready for a shower. November was supposed to be colder than this and Lydia had worn too many layers.

A little while later, she came out wearing some pajama shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. It was only late afternoon, but Lydia planned on watching movies in bed. Or maybe reading a book. Without even thinking about, Lydia found she had grabbed her black scrapbook before climbing into bed.

Snuggling under the covers, Lydia flipped the book open to the first page. The way the book refused to close all the way showed how full the last pages where, but Lydia tried to save them for last. Instead, she browsed through the pictures she'd take through the years.

This was where her interest in Gothic architecture showed through. Over all the pages were dark stone, gargoyles, deep pulpits, and any number of other things she'd found dark and beautiful over the years. She had more like these with clothes and animals and other things, but this one was her favorite.

Lydia only got halfway through the book before the urge to look at the back page overwhelmed her.

For a long time Lydia just stared at the page with a happy smile slowly shaping her lips.

Over a two page sprawl, Lydia had created a collage. It was very obviously a wedding collage. The background was a small local church that had very dark, ominous look with large arched windows behind the pulpit. She'd managed to capture some of the pews in the shot.

Leading up to the pulpit, there were urns with black and red flowers. The flowers were covered with delicate cobwebs. Lydia had gotten a friend of hers to create those with Photoshop without explaining why she wanted them. Her friend probably still wondered.

Off to the sides of the pulpit were little gargoyles looking down from balcony areas. Lydia knew the guy who owned these particular gargoyles and he had already promised to let Lydia borrow them when she finally got married. He got excited every time she got a new boyfriend.

Behind the pulpit was a fairly short, grave looking priest. Father Richard was anything but grave. He was also Catholic while Lydia had no real religion at all. Still, they'd formed a solid friendship and he was adamant about being the one to wed her. Lydia had just grinned at him like she expected nothing less.

Standing near the bride and groom were some fairly traditional bridesmaid and groomsman clothes. The groomsmen had no faces, but pictures of Bertha and Prudence's faces had been added to the tops of the bridesmaid dresses.

There were other little touches here and there on the collage as she went to more weddings and found more ideas. She'd even tweaked the church to be more to her liking even though it meant she wouldn't find the exact church on the proper day.

But the thing that would cause her parents to panic was the two cutouts facing each other in front of the pulpit.

In place of the bride was a red dress. It was disturbingly similar to the red dress that she'd managed to leave in her bedroom closet at her parents' house in Winter River. There was no red tulle. This dress looked softer like it was made of silk and had a short train. Lydia had pasted little black designs in some areas of it and added a black sash with a ribbon on the back.

But her family might look past that if it weren't for the groom. He had no face, just like the dress, but the suit was crushed velvet. It was so dark a red that it was almost black. Lydia hadn't dared give it white shoes.

Lydia smiled and ran her fingers over the dress lovingly. She made to do the same to the groom's suit but pulled her fingers back at the last moment.

Finally, Lydia determined that she'd been looking long enough. She closed the book and set it on her nightstand, grabbing the remote from underneath it first. She let the sitcom dull her mind and help her forget, for a little while, the man that haunted her.

One Year after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm
Now Serving Number 1,150,991,520,000

Beetlejuice was ready to pull his hair out. Only 8,847,392,230,000 to go. Since it had been exactly one year, that meant it would take… Beetlejuice took a long moment, possibly an hour or five, to figure this out: another seven years and nine months.

It killed him that he was bored enough to do that math. He'd always known, though actively tried not to acknowledge, that he was intelligent enough to do that kind of math. But no one should ever be this bored!

"Hey guy. Got the time?" There was only one person left in the waiting room from the group he'd originally been with and that was the magician's assistant. She hadn't gotten less frosty over the past year. So Beetlejuice was asking the rather angry looking dark skinned fellow with three bullet holes in his face. The guy gritted his teeth and pretended he didn't hear.

Beetlejuice shrugged and looked around some more. He'd tried talking to all these people. At one point, he'd even asked someone about themselves. That had been a lesson in boring. Most recently, he'd tried to seduce the coiffed redhead who was a little old for his usual taste. She'd made fun of him in such a way that it took him a while to catch on. When he had, she'd given this silent, but superbly pleased laugh. He'd left her alone after that.

Now he was sitting here with nothing to do but think. His long tongue rolled out in disgust as he made a gagging noise. A couple of the newer arrivals looked at him askance before going back to their own thoughts.

The only thing he could really find to think about was his latest foray into the mortal realm. It was the last thing he wanted to think about.

First had come the thoughts of revenge. Beetlejuice had only entertained himself with those ideas for the first few months. Contrary to what most people thought of Beetlejuice, he didn't usually hold grudges for long.

Then he had started thinking about what happened. The more he thought about it, the more they seemed familiar.

Now Beetlejuice was wracking his brains, in some cases literally (very disturbing to the other petitioners), trying to remember what they reminded him off.

It wasn't those pesky Maitlands. It was the names of the living family. Chuck and Delia and… Lydia. Beetlejuice loved the name Lydia, but he didn't want to remember why. But he could feel the wall blocking that memory crumbling.

Soon he would remember why those names were so important. For better or worse.