This tale, told me as true, happened long ago in Eighty-Eight, Kentucky THE COLD, COLD BRIDE This ghostly tale was told to me as the gospel truth, but the names had been removed to protect the innocent. It is set around Eighty-Eight during Civil War times. I will use Mary as the girl's name and John for the young man's name. I will not tell anyone the real names. There was a beautiful young lady named Mary who was betrothed to a handsome young man named John; the marriage date was set, all preparations made and on the wedding day, all awoke to great expectations of a wonderful life for this handsome couple. But, alas, when the bride-to-be failed to appear for breakfast, the family checked and found her dead in her bed. She had passed away overnight and no one knew that she had been ill. Thus, instead of her walking down the aisle, Mary was instead buried that same day in her wedding gown. John was beside himself with grief as they laid her to rest in the church cemetery and could barely be consoled. His family, who lived nearby, tried to convinced him to come to supper with them, before mounting his horse to go to the home he had so lovingly built for his fiancee. He agreed, not being hungry at all, but feeling such a weight of sorrow that he wanted to delay the ride back to their log cabin home. All too soon, the daylight gave way to the darkness of a very stormy night and John bid his good-byes to the family, mounted his horse and started on the long ride home. He had hardly gone a mile when lightning flashed and thunder rolled and he decided to seek shelter. Looking around, he saw the illuminated church where just hours before his beloved Mary had been laid to rest in the cemetery beside it. He galloped towards the church, tied the horse to the hitching post and ran inside Once inside and shaking the rain from his clothes, meant to be his wedding suit, he turned ashen as the lightning illuminated the church. There - on the front row - sat his bride! Before he could summon the strength to yell out to her, the cold steel of a pistol was felt at the back of his neck. He froze as the church again surrendered to the darkness of the night. A voice - ominous and as cold as the steel of the pistol at his neck spoke out. "Don't move or it will be your last breath on earth." He remained rigid with heart pounding until he thought it would burst through his chest. Another flash of lightning, and again he saw the vision of his bride sitting serenely on the front row. It could not be! They had just laid her to rest mere hours ago. And then it dawned upon John what was going on. The man, and there were others breathing in the darkness around him, were grave robbers. He had heard that voice before at the funeral and wondered at the time who this stranger was which had stood back from the mourners. Mary had been buried in her finery with all her jewelry placed lovingly on her fingers and around her graceful neck. The man and his assistants had come back and under the cover of darkness had dug her body up. The problem was the storm had come up unexpectedly and they had brought dear Mary's body into the church to finish the evil robbery. John, so terrified, whispered that he would not tell a soul about what he had just seen if they would let him leave. Finally, after great discussion in the shadows, they agreed and he bolted from the door, catching one last glimpse of his beloved Mary, sitting so calmly on the front pew, so cold, so lifeless, so alone. John never did tell of the events of that awful night until his dying day when he cleansed his soul to the local pastor. Never more could he enter that little church by the cemetery, never more would he marry, never more would he see his Mary until he crossed to the other side. Sandi SCKY Archives: http://archiver.rootsweb.com/th/index?list=south-central-kentucky Barren Co Archives: http://archiver.rootsweb.com/th/index?list=kybarren Sandi's Puzzlers: http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~gensoup/gorin/puz.html