"I Woke Up Married to Death"
The first thing I noticed was the veil.
The second thing was that I was in a coffin.
Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Literally. A coffin. Black satin lining. Velvet pillows. It smelled like lavender and bad decisions. My fingers were clutching a bouquet of dead roses tied with a ribbon that said, "Till Undeath Do Us Part."
I sat up, gasping, which was impressive given that the coffin lid was open and an entire skeleton mariachi band was playing Despacito in slow motion. Around them, hundreds of skeletons clapped politely. Some threw rice. One threw teeth.
“What the—?!”
“You’re awake, my darling,” said a voice so deep, it made my internal organs try to rebrand as external.
I turned. Standing beside me was Death. Like, actual Death. Tall, cloaked, and glowing faintly like a goth nightlight. His face was a polished skull, eyes glowing red like someone left the oven on in his sockets. In one bony hand, he held a Starbucks cup that read #1 Hubby, and in the other, a scythe engraved with the words “Serial Soul Collector Since Forever.”
“Who are you?” I asked, even though part of me already knew.
“Your husband,” he said lovingly. “We just got married. Congratulations, my love.”
I blinked. “What?! I married Death?”
He nodded, sipping his latte. “You sneezed three times in your sleep. In my realm, that’s a sacred wedding vow.”
“You’re joking.”
“Would the Lord of Eternal Darkness joke about matrimony?”
“I have school today! I was supposed to walk my dog! I didn’t agree to this!”
“Oh, but you did,” he said sweetly. A contract floated beside me, glowing faintly. My name was signed at the bottom in dream-ink, glittering and dramatic. Also, someone had doodled a tiny heart beside it. Probably me.
The skeleton crowd cheered louder. A ghost DJ dropped a beat. Someone popped confetti made of cobwebs and regret.
“NOPE. No. I demand a reset. Take it back. Undo this.”
“But we’re perfect for each other,” Death insisted. “I live in eternal darkness. You hate sunlight. I carry the souls of the dead. You carry emotional baggage. It’s a match made in the Abyss.”
“I don't care! Unmatch me immediately!”
Before he could reply, a stylish demon burst through a flaming portal. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” he said, checking a clipboard. “But your in-laws have arrived.”
“In-laws?”
Ghosts began to float through the walls—judgy aunt ghosts with pursed lips, loud uncle ghosts telling bad puns in Latin, and a grandmother ghost offering me cookies made of pure dust. One ghost leaned in and whispered, “You’ll never make him happy, you know.”
“I just met him!” I protested.
“That's what the last bride said,” the ghost replied with a wink.
I ran.
Tried, anyway. Every hallway twisted impossibly like a funhouse designed by someone who hated joy. Doors led to nightmares. Mirrors showed me aging backward. One corridor just screamed “YOU FORGOT TO TURN OFF THE OVEN” on a loop.
Eventually, I stumbled onto a massive balcony. Below, Death’s realm stretched endlessly—misty mountains, floating clocks, rivers of lukewarm coffee, and a sky that blinked. A billboard drifted by in the wind that read:
“Welcome to the Afterlife! Population: You (and growing).”
Death appeared beside me again, quieter this time.
“I want to go home,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “But the longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave.”
I turned to him. “Why bring me here in the first place?”
He looked at me, and for a moment—even with no eyes—I could feel the sadness radiating from him.
“Because I’m lonely,” he admitted. “Everyone fears me. I escort souls, but they never stay. They scream. They beg. They vanish. But you... you stumbled in. You stayed.”
I blinked, unsure whether I wanted to cry or fight him. “So, what? You kidnapped me because you're lonely?”
“I didn’t kidnap you. You... dreamed your way in. I just never let the door shut.”
The silence that followed was so deep it made my ears ring. I sat on the edge of the balcony, overwhelmed. Somehow, this realm of death was more honest than my group chats.
Death sat beside me. “I know it’s selfish. But I thought maybe you’d want to stay. Maybe you'd find something here worth loving.”
“But I have a life back there,” I said. “A complicated, messy, human life. A dog who drools on my socks. A family that yells during dinner. Friends who don’t always get me, but still try. I can’t trade that for skeleton mariachi bands and lava jacuzzis.”
“You’d have a kingdom.”
“I’d rather have free will.”
Death gave a small nod. Then, gently, he reached into his cloak and handed me something. A rose.
Dead, of course. But oddly beautiful. Its petals shimmered like obsidian, and it smelled faintly of bittersweet memories.
“My wedding gift to you,” he said. “Even if this was a dream.”
Suddenly, my hands began to flicker. My legs turned to mist. I was glitching.
“You’re waking up,” Death whispered.
“Will I remember this?”
“Most don’t. But maybe… leave a note.”
He stepped back, and the world began to spin. The mariachi band played a slow farewell. The ghosts waved. The contract dissolved into glitter.
“Wait!” I cried. “Will I see you again?”
He smiled softly.
“In your worst nights. And sometimes... your best naps.”
---
I woke up with a start.
My room. My bed. My dog snoring beside me.
7:59 AM. My alarm buzzing. The normal world, real and flawed.
Almost.
Because on my bedside table was a single dead rose.
And a Starbucks cup.
It read:
“Until next nap, darling. – Your husband, Death.”
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