Member-only story
The Lovely Mrs. Bones
Death had a wife.
You’ve never met a woman like Mrs. Bones.
Laugh if you like. That’s her name. She’s a beauty, it’s true, with blonde waves of hair curling down to her shoulders. Her lips are full, and I’m sure her kiss would make a man weak in the knees. She likes to wear pretty dresses even when she has nowhere to go. Once, I spied her wearing a frilly nightgown as if she were some maiden about ready to go walking into the fog of the moors. It was quite becoming, even so — but I can’t say I’m charmed by such things.
Mrs. Bones is Death’s wife, you see. She has quite the keen eye. One might have to, I’d imagine, to become Lord Death’s bride.
He’s had many names. Hades, once upon a time. The Grim Reaper in more modern connotations. But today he’s just Mr. Bones, a dark-haired man with crinkles around his eyes and stubble on his chin. But he too has his secrets that I’m not willing to delve into — not yet, anyway.
We’re here to talk about Mrs. Bones. You’d think Death’s wife would be the faithful type, but I’m here to tell you she hasn’t been. Not this year, anyway. I saw her with many men. Some she liked, some she didn’t. Some she made love to, others she simply flirted with. Mr. Bones has no idea, you see. He’s blind to her flaws. Always has been.
