Katrina just wants the perfect dress for her wedding day. But the dress shop makes error after error.
Desperation sets in. But even Katrina underestimates the consequences of the dress shop’s mistakes…
A short horror tale about the dangers of agreeing to bargains without fully understanding the costs.
Desperate Measures
As always, Katrina gazed in awe at the rows of white dresses that lined the walls, some sparkling, some shimmering—all beautiful. She gripped her mother’s arm and squealed. “That’s it, that’s my dress right there!” She pointed toward a mannequin at the back of the store.
Her mother smiled. “Come on.”
The sales assistants, in their crisp black suits and white cotton gloves, were all busy with other customers, and a young blonde girl smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry ma’am, we’ll be with you in a moment.”
Katrina didn’t mind. She adored bridal stores—could spend hours in them, literally. Ever since she’d been a bridesmaid for Tanya two years ago, she’d been addicted.
She leaned against the counter. Honestly, the way some of those dresses glittered—especially that puffy-skirted one on the mannequin—well, she wouldn’t find it hard to believe they were alive.
A flicker caught her eye, and she looked down toward the mirrors at the back of the store. A thirty-something woman with dark, glossy hair posed, primping the veil in her hair. The sales assistant stooped behind her, adjusting the train and hemline.
Katrina smiled again.
The snug fitting bodice showed off the woman’s curves perfectly, and the golden ivory of the satin made her tanned skin glow.
And the crystalling down the back… Katrina sighed wistfully. Her parents weren’t exactly oozing cash, and she and her fiancé lived the frugal life of students. Her dress was pretty—but it was plain.
The woman in front of the mirrors turned, flicking the train of the dress out behind her. The crystal beading caught the light, writhing like some fantastical snake around the hem and stirring envy in Katrina’s breast.
“Katrina?”
She turned back to the counter. A dark-haired, stern-faced assistant arched an eyebrow and peered over her glasses.
Katrina nodded. “Yes, that’s me.” She swallowed, suddenly nervous.
“And you’re here to pick up…” The assistant glanced down at the open book on the table. “A Glamorique gown and veil?”
Katrina nodded again, throat dry.
The assistant gave a curt jerk of her chin. “I presume you wish to try it on? When was the wedding, again?”
“Er, tomorrow.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Yes, there, er, there were some issues.”