By Elaine Lowe, aged 13
I’m walking down the aisle, down the scarlet carpet that lies on the floor before my feet. Everyone’s standing up, observing every step I take in my white stilettos. They’re rubbing against my red, sore heels, making them blister. Ravishing bridesmaids in crimson gowns trail gracefully behind me, and a little flower girl scatters waterfalls of pink petals in front of me.
I’m in a church, with beautiful stained-glass windows that reflect rainbows around the hall as the sun sets. Towards the end of the aisle, I can make out Leon, my soon-to-be husband, and also a vicar in cream-coloured robes.
Everyone’s standing up from their aisle seats, admiring my beauty, which makes me blush a little. It’s perfect. I think to myself this may be a dream, I’m having a moment of déjà vu. I close my eyes for a few seconds, hoping this isn’t a dream.
Abruptly, I hear a deep, scratchy voice that echoes throughout the hall.
‘Everything you have just told me is a complete and utter lie. Now tell me the truth and we might both live.’
I look around, trying to make out where it came from.
When I gaze up, everything and everybody is gone. The delicate stained-glass windows have been smashed, the scarlet carpet that once lay down before my feet is ripped, and what’s worse, has blood stains on it. But then I see where the blood is coming from. Blood is dripping down the wooden beams on the high ceiling around the church. Crimson liquid drips from the eyes of the people in the pictures on the walls. The scarlet, sticky liquid is also on my ivory wedding dress, and instead of the flowers I once carried, I’m carrying a knife.
I stand trembling; heart pounding, sweat pouring, tears spurting.