“Told you.” The bride adjusts the bust of her ivory gown. “Take a picture.”
I squint for signs of a prank. “I’m a wedding photographer, not a paranormal investigator.”
She nudges me forward, and I sigh.
The veil hovers five-and-a-half feet off the ground, its elegant train trailing behind. I raise my camera, and the flash fills the sanctuary.
The veil darts forward, dropping over my eyes. Layer upon layer of tulle swallows me into blackness. My screams are drowned by the sighs of a thousand jilted brides.