The beautiful celebration took place in England.

The bride wanted a dance. Her white dress frayed over the ground.

The pure white dress turned into a dirty brown. 

The band played their hearts away. But they were missing someone.

The bottom man, his guitar hung on the wall.

The man walked out to the door, rushing for something.

The man was just getting water: but he wasn’t.

The man was tormented by his own kind.

The fun evening twisted into a dark fantasy.

The sound, louder than the high pitched voices.

The sound, louder than any guitar playing.

The sound, louder, heard in the back room.

The man found his revenge for all the torment.

The blood of the victims smeared across the canvas.

The most important person, thudding to the ground.

The bride was dead on her wedding day.