Accepting the challenge the shadow tempts, I begin to open the old, wooden chest. The iron latches echo a satisfying click that bounce off the padded attic walls. It takes some of my strength to pray the chest open, but it opens. Well, the lid falls off and lands on the very dusty bed. The first thing I see is a note, a very formal looking note.

Alice,

You are in danger. Hold on to this world as much as you can. Remember that happiness can be a mirage and it all can start with a single dress. Please, be safe and burn this chest. No one deserves to be tricked.

-Your grandmother

Wow, great. I set the letter on the side of the chest and pulled out a wedding dress. All complete silk, little diamonds around the bust and the straps. And underneath the dress is a big, worn, leather book. I lift it up and it’s heavier than what I suspected. Flipping through the pages, there are photos of different women wearing the dress. At the end I see a picture of my grandmother, looking young and similar to me.

I find a mirror from an old vanity and lift the dress to my figure. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to try it on before I burn it, my mind convinces me. Stripping off my tank-top and jeans, I slip on the smooth dress. The straps cross on my back and the dress hugs my chest, maximizing their size. It’s a simple dress but it makes me feel like a person with power.

I walk back to the chest and it stretches out into a door. Probably shouldn’t walk in, but I think that as I walk through. There’s no floor and I fall down through the air. I notice dead grass coming into view from below me. Shit. The worries of death start to hit my head like hard rocks. I close my eyelids over my green irises to not dwell on the pain that’s about to come.

But I just float down to the ground gently, the grass makes a crackle as it cradles my head and with it my body. I just lay there, the relief of not being dead stunning me for an aftereffect. Then a man in black appears, bending over my still-bound body. His gingered curtain bangs fly gently as the breeze gently whispers. His eyes like warm chocolate, like warm fire, like safety. His full lips curve into a smile and I sit up, causing a bit of a headache.

“You’re the one. I knew I’d find you and I did. I’ve been searching and I’ve got you here, right here, with me.” His voice is dark and soothing, but there’s happiness that coats over his mysterious outline. “We’d better get on with it, shouldn’t we?”

“Get on with what exactly? Where am I?” I make my voice sound like it holds power.

He lifts me to my full height, a foot below him, and pulls dead leaves and debris out of my deep brown strands. The roughness of his thumb oddly makes me feel warm as it creases my cheek. “We’re going to our house. I know it’s been a while. You picked it out, even though we had to redo practically everything.”

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My feet don’t make it far when I shuffle backwards before his hand goes around my wrist. “You must be confused with someone else.”

His eyes look deep in mine, searching, reading my irises like my life’s story is carved in them. I try to take another step, but his grip tightens around my wrist. Then, his face turns to realization, hard truth biting him in the face, and by the looks of it, in the heart. He begins to drag me off, ignoring my screams of protests. And the people we pass ignore my screams too, although the bow in the guy’s presence.

“You lived here, you fought me, we hated each other, but I lost my mind when the guy you were with hit you. We had crazy passion, we got a house, we were perfect. And now, you’re married to me.”

“WHAT!?” My brain hurts and I remember the hate, the passion, the love, the homey feel he gave me. It’s too much.

“You put on the dress. It’s an automatic marriage, via contract. Welcome to the inside of the chest.”