Helena blinked her eyes open, was it time to walk among the living again? She looked all around herself, and cried out in joy, she was inside a coffin! It was that day again! Using her normal methods, she pried open the lid, and dug her way out of the soil. She stretched her skeletal arms, as her worm-eaten veil fluttered out behind her in the nighttime breeze.
She was about to look for Faybien, a boy she met not too long ago, but then hear movement in the grass.
She turned, and saw someone walking through the graveyard. It was yet another boy, but this boy was as pale as the moon in the sky, with many cuts and scars on his face. He had dark black hair, that was almost impossible to see in the night. As Helena observed him, she noted that he always seemed to have a look on his face that seemed like a mix of innocence and fear. He carried flowers, white roses, two large bouquets of them.
Helena smiled in realization, there was always someone who would walk through the graveyard, and leave a white rose beside each and every person's grave, she assumed that this must be who it was.
As she watched him walk down the many rows of headstones, she felt something brush against her anklebone. She looked down, and there she saw her white rose...She picked it up and placed it in her shriveled bouquet, it was the only living flower she had, now.
Before she could attempt to make a move to hide, the boy was already facing her, staring right at the skeletal bride with shining eyes, that twinkled in the starlight.
Helena didn't know what to do, she didn't want to approach, and possibly frighten the poor boy, but she also wanted to know more about him...
As if reading her mind, this mysterious figure walked towards her, true, he did hesitate a few times, but he didn't retaliate. When he was within four feet of her, he stopped.
Helena and the pale-skinned boy stared into each other's eyes for a long time, before Helena worked up the nerve to speak, "...Hello."
The boy blinked and nodded, greeting her silently.
"Who are you, sir...?" The deceased bride asked him as she cautiously moved forward.
The boy spoke with a very calming, shy and quiet voice, "Timothy..." He murmured.
"Timothy...Who?" She asked.
Timothy shook his head.
Helena cocked her head to one side, "Are you an orphan, Timothy?"
He shrugged, "Not actual...boy," he replied, looking down.
Helena looked confused, "Not actual boy?"
Timothy shook his head, and pulled up his sleeve, revealing many stitches. He carefully undid one of them, and peeled his skin back, to reveal working mechanical parts beneath.
Helena gasped, "You're...you're a robot?"
"Yes...Except...I have...Emotion and...will of, my own. I am...part human," the scarred boy replied, repairing his simulation of skin. "My father...never finish..."
"Why not?" Helena asked.
Timothy pointed to a grave two rows away, the name etched into the stone was Dr. William Peterson. "He didn't...live...enough."
"I'm sorry..." Helena said. "Out of curiosity, what can you do that humans can?"
"Everything but...speak...properly...and touch...." Timothy said, looking down at his hands. "I'm afraid...if I...touch...I will hurt..."
"But, you wouldn't hurt anything, why would you think that you would?" The dead bride-to-be asked.
"That's what...mostly everyone says...to me...That I'm a...monster...That I should be...killed...and that I am...dangerous..." He looked back up at Helena, "Children cry...women scream...Men...hide their families...and themselves. They...fear...me...because, I was...created in a...laboratory."
Helena would've cried if she had any functional tear ducts left, instead, she hugged Timothy out of sympathy. "You're not alone, Timothy, I don't exactly fit in either..."
Timothy knit his eyebrows, "But...you're so...pretty...and kind...Why don't people...accept you?"
Helena pulled away from the hug, and pulled up the end of her dress.
Instinctively, Timothy looked down at the grass, hints of redness appeared very vividly on his pale face.
Helena chuckled slightly, "It's alright, just look at my leg," she said.
Timothy slowly complied, looking up, his blue eyes were met with a skeletal leg. He nodded in comprehension. "I see..."
Helena nodded, "...Hey, have you ever been to a restaurant?"
Timothy shook his head.
Helena smiled, "I know a town that is used to me coming, I'm sure they'd love to have you there."
For the first time since Helena had met Timothy, he smiled. "I'd...like that...Ma'am."
"Please, call me Helena."
Timothy nodded, "Thank you...for...giving me a chance...Helena."
She smiled and took his hand, "Of course, I never turn anyone away." She explained, as she gently tugged Timothy forward.
As they walked, Timothy slowly became more and more reluctant, as the town came into view. "I...Am...Afraid."
"It's alright," Helena soothed, giving him a gentle hug, "I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you..."
Timothy slowly nodded, as they entered the town.
It was desolate and empty, most likely due to the fact that it was almost midnight.
Helena looked at everything with a smiling face, "Isn't it wonderful, Timothy?"
Timothy looked down shyly and nodded.
Helena chuckled, "Come on, I know a place where we can go that's open this late." She took his hand again as they walked through the town.
Timothy looked in wonder at all the stores and signs that he, normally, would not be welcomed in.
Helena was showing him things from a wondrous new point of view, and he was enjoying himself, he may not have shown it, but it was true. He also thought, that he may have fallen for the lovely corpse bride...
"Here we are, Timothy," she said, coming to a place that was lit brightly, contrasting with the darkness of the night.
She opened the door for Timothy as he walked in curiously, and fearfully.
It was just a simple restaurant, you ordered up front, sat down, and the food was brought to you.
The teenage girl working the counter looked up, "Helena! It's great to see you!...Who's your friend?"
"Abbey, this is Timothy," Helena leaned forward and whispered, "Careful of what you say, he's shy and very sensitive."
Abbey nodded, "Hello, Timothy! What would you like?"
Timothy cocked his head to one side, confused.
Helena quickly interjected, "He'd just like some ice cream."
Timothy looked at Helena, even more confused than before.
"It's a dessert, Timothy, it's very sweet, a lot like yourself, you'll love it," Helena explained.
"Alright then, what kind?"
Helena looked at Timothy, "Is there a particular fruit you like?"
"I...I like...strawberries," he whispered, timidly.
"He'll have some strawberry ice cream, Abbey."
Abbey nodded, "Anything for you, Helena?"
She shook her head, "No thank you."
"Alrighty then," The teen said, as she walked into the kitchen behind the counter.
Helena gestured to a table, "You can go sit down, okay?"
Timothy nodded, and did as she instructed. When he sat down, he picked up a napkin that was on the table with only his fingertips, as he always held things. He inspected it closely, he had never seen anything like it before. What was he supposed to do with it?
"Timothy? Timothy, I've got the-..." Helena walked over to the table, and laughed slightly, as she found Timothy with a napkin on his head. "I've got your ice cream," she said, placing a large cup of a pink substance in front of him, and taking the napkin off of his head.
He poked the bowl with his fingertip.
"Do you know how to eat this?"
Timothy looked at her with his shining blue eyes, and shook his head.
"Hm...Well...maybe I can help," Helena said, picking up a silver spoon. She dipped it into the bowl and pulled it up, the pink substance piled neatly on top of it. She lifted it to Timothy's face, "Open your mouth," she said.
He opened his mouth just enough so the spoon could fit into it. He closed his lips around the silver utensil, and shivered slightly from the sudden chill he got from the ice cream. A small bit of the pink sweet traced his upper lip.
Helena couldn't help but giggle, he was rather cute, despite his scars. She pulled the spoon from his mouth, and watched as Timothy swallowed. He seemed to consider his opinion about the dessert. He finally smiled and nodded, "Very good..." He said.
"I knew you'd like it, do you think you could try using the spoon now?" She asked, dapping at his face with the napkin.
Helena began to hand him the utensil, but he stopped her, "I can...try to but...I'd like it...better...if you...do it..."
She would've blushed if she had any blood left, "That's so sweet of you, Timothy..."
He nodded, and opened his mouth slightly again.
Helena chuckled, as she gave him what he wanted.
That's how they spent their evening together in the moonlight. Helena would walk through the town, telling Timothy about the buildings and people. He was happier than he had been in years. Helena had a way of making him feel that everything was going to be okay.
When the pair came back to the graveyard again. When they came to the entrance, Helena took his hands in her own, "This has been a lot of fun, Timothy...but I have to go now."
"But...But why?" He asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"It's the way of the deceased, I'm sorry...I'd love to stay with you longer, but my time grows short, goodbye, my dear friend..."
Friend... That word echoed in Timothy's mind, he never had a friend before...
She gave him a light kiss on the cheek, before walking into the cemetery, and disappearing into the darkness.
From that night forward, the people noticed a change in the graveyard. Yes, there was still white roses beside every grave once every week. But the grave that no one ever touched, always had three red roses, every day, and a note. On the paper, in neat cursive writing, the people could read,
To Helena: Forever and always, my friend...