THE SAD BRIDE (#fridayflash)

Please press play for some mood music

As I vacuumed the hallway at The Hotel Traymore, a gorgeous woman in a wedding dress ascended the stairs to the landing where I was. She was breathtaking but at the same time seemed so sad. I asked her if she was okay.

She sniffed back a few tears. "I'll be fine," she muttered. "I just need to find Franklin. Have you seen him?"

I shook my head. "No one but you..."

"Oh dear, we're set to start soon," she said. She asked me for the time and I thought nothing more of it as I watched her enter the bridal suite.

* * *

When I was finished with my shift, I asked innkeeper Mr. Finley, if he had seen Franklin and he just chuckled.

I felt dumb so I asked him what gives. "Oh that's just Lady Margaret..." he said. "She won't be bugging you anymore."

"Who?" I asked, watching the cozy fireplace crackle.

"She visits all of our new workers" he said matter-of-factly.

My blood ran cold. Was he telling me what I thought he was telling me?

"In 1925, Margaret was all set to be married here. Biggest shindig in three counties. The story went that Franklin got cold feet and flew the coop. Never came back..."

"And..." I said, knowing there was way more to the story.

"And... she was so distraught that she hung herself in the bridal suite."

Old man Finley went on to tell me that ever since, Margaret has been roaming the halls of the Traymore searching for Franklin and asking every new face -- worker or guest -- for the time.

But I wanted to help her. Even ghosts need closure, right?

* * *

The next day, I went up the staircase and stood still on the landing. I called out for the sad bride and said that I had information about Franklin.

In the nicest and most gentle way possible, I told Margaret that her groom was not coming back and that she should just let go.

That's when the weeping started. And then came the violent nudge.

When I hit the bottom of the stairs, I saw Mr. Finley looking down at me, shaking his head.

"What'd you go and do?" he asked.

What was I gonna say? Oh nothing, just antagonize a sad ghost while cracking three ribs and breaking my arm in the process.

He thought it best I give my two weeks notice right there and then.

Last I heard, the sad bride was still roaming those halls.

Photos by Sunnybrook100 and Matt Andrews at Flickr. Music by Curt Siffert, "Dirty Water."

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