Corpse Bride Drawing Easy Novels & Stories

Theodora Althea Corazon, a woman buried six feet below the ground and now the living corpse bride of a man, The Mafioso's Corpse Bride.

I slid backward across the tiles, then another sound came, a child laughing happily and softly coming from inside my wardrobe. “No…” I whispered. I covered my ears with both hands. The laughter continued, then it changed to tiny nails scraping from inside my wardrobe. I stumbled to my feet and ran on towards the bedroom doorway without thinking. Then I stopped suddenly. A shape stood there tall and standing still blocking the doorway, I could only see the shape of a man with broad shoulders, a head, and a suit. For one bright second the room turned white. Adrian Vale stood there, and blood still ran from the cut near his forehead, his grey eyes still looking straight at me.

I screamed as the firelight drenched them, revealing transparent skeletons instead of their elegant silhouettes, dressed in tattered shrouds like grave-bound corpses. Without warning, Corpseboy grabbed an apple and shoved it into my mouth. I bit down reflexively. As its juices drenched my mouth, the skeletons became flesh, their rags turning into clothes. I was confronted by a whole retinue of noble-looking men and women dressed in elegant gowns and old-fashioned suits, eying me with disdain. Corpseboy, oblivious to their disapproval, grinned widely. “See, Callie? Nothing to be afraid of. Now come along or the tea will grow cold.” “They're dead,” I whispered in horror.

The groom mounting the bride on a throne of corpses. My hand moved faster than my mind. I dipped the brush deeper, harder, tearing at the canvas like I was cutting flesh. I mixed the reds and blacks until they bled together, thick and viscous. The eyes I painted stared back, wide and lifeless. The flowers were rotting. The sky dripped gore. A massacre. And I smiled. They wanted a masterpiece? I’d give them one they’d never forget.

Chapter 52: Interruptions As I stood at the entrance of the aisle, my heart fluttered with nervous anticipation. My mother, her arm linked with mine, guided me forward, her reassuring presence grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions. A soft music began to fill the air, signaling the start of my walk down the aisle. As I walked, I stole a glance at Gabby, radiant in her wedding gown, being escorted by her father. Seeing her by my side eased the knots of anxiety in my stomach, her smile offering me solace and strength.

The air smelled of woodsmoke, meat, and barely-contained rage. Kael waited at the head of the table. He looked calm, almost regal, until his gaze found her. Something fierce and protective flashed across his face. He pointed to the chair beside him. “Sit.” She walked the length of the hall under every hostile stare. When she reached him he pulled the chair out for her, then leaned close. “Don’t show fear,” he murmured. “They feed on it.” She sat. Back straight. Hands folded. An elder rose, gray hair, face like cracked leather. “Alpha. This human cannot stand as your bride. The bond is unnatural. The old laws forbid...”

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her a

Lydia occasionally leans in to whisper something, and he nods once, maybe twice. Then it happens. The lights dim. A young girl,no older than eighteen,is dragged onto the stage. She’s barefoot, shivering, wrapped in torn cloth that barely qualifies as a dress. Her wrists are bound in satin ribbon. A cruel joke. “She’s untouched,” the host announces. “Rare bloodline. Fertile. Trained in silence.” The crowd hums with interest. And Leon lifts his hand. “Ten million,” he says calmly. I blink. Others join in.

I said without even trying it. " See, the delicate clothes which are meant to be for newly married girls don't even fit her. I don't know why dad gave me this punishment? Even I wanted a bride who was perfect in every sense. A beautiful, delicate and elegant bride, someone who was so pretty that people keep looking at her. I wanted to see the heads turning to get just a glimpse of my beautiful wife. Someone so delicate that I should be scared that she might get hurt. Someone so elegant that everyone should get jealous of me." " Shut up, Dhruv, we allowed you to choose your wife but that girl betrayed you. So you can't blame your dad for whatever happened. " Mom said.

He was beside her in an instant. “Did I hurt you, Lia? Are you injured?” “Nay, husband.” She peeked out at him from the edge of the counterpane, “I used a trick my mother told me before she died.” “What trick is that?” “She told me that English men like a woman to bleed on the wedding night, but many lasses don’t, even if they have not been with a man. She told me that lasses put a leach in their channel for a bit a day or two before the wedding to make a weak spot so coupling will shed some blood. I had thought that all the emissary would need was a bloody sheet and mother's trick would provide that for us.”