The chapel looms over me. The old ivy vines crawl and creep up it’s sides. The stain glass windows look dark and omnious. Light from the sliver of a moon bounce off my diamond ring on my finger. I clutch the other one, Robin’s, in my fist. I can feel the stone’s chain twirled around my fingers.
The door gives a slight groan as I creak open the heavy wooden door. The eisle’s red velvet looks almost like a long, thick blood red ribbion layed out on the floor. There seems to be nothing, just an empty chapel.
I slap my hand against my forehead. I felt so foolish standing there in the night, thinking there’d be something here. I pulled my parka tighter around my shoulders and turned, ready to head back. But suddenly I heard something. It was soft, a whisper. Voices.
I walked amoung the pews. The voices went on. I pulled back the curtian that led into the women’s parlor.
“Willow!” I heard a hiss then I came face to face the women who was to mary my love. But not it was not Robin beside her, but another man.