Ophelia was becoming impatient with her younger sister. She waited by the door and called for Morticia once again. Morticia ignored her and ran a brush through her smooth black hair a few more times before deciding it looked alright. She descended the stairs to see Ophelia and her mother waiting. Ophelia's eyes seemed to bulge out of her head at the sight of Morticia's attire. A slim black dress with a low cut v-neck and a slit up the side. Her hair cascaded down her back and chest freely, like a black river of silk.
"Morticia, that outfit is hardly appropriate." He mother scolded. Morticia glanced at her own outfit, then at Ophelia's. A long, loose black dress, with a high collar and long sleeves. Her hair, shining and gold, was tied behind her head in an elegant pony tail.
"Oh well." Mrs. Frump sighed. "There's nothing we can do with you now. Go to the car."
They were going to a funeral. Mrs. Frump's old friend Mrs. Addams was going to be there. It was her nephew's funeral. Ophelia's husband to-be would also be attending, and they would meet at the after party.
"Have you met my betrothed, Mother?" Ophelia asked once in the car.
"No, dear. Mrs. Addams just said she knew a charming young man who is dying to marry you."
"Oh, what if someone literally died if they couldn't marry someone?" Morticia chimed in.
"None of your childish questions today, Morticia. This is Ophelia's day." Mrs. Frump said. Ophelia gave her a look that was a cross between sympathy and self absorbance. Morticia sighed and continued looking out the window.
The Addams house was huge. An old mansion that sent delightful shivers up Morticia's spine. They were ushered to the backyard. A large cemetery greeted them, along with the long drawn out howl of a wolf in the distance.
"A perfect night for a funeral." Morticia said admiringly.
"Mother, may we sit in the back? I don't want to be near the corpse." Ophelia whispered frantically.
Morticia rolled her eyes and walked straight up to the coffin. A man, pale and thin laid peacefully. Hands folded over his chest, eyes and lips shut.
"What would you say if you could speak?" She asked aloud.
"He'd probably tell the police who killed him." Morticia turned to see a man, perhaps a few years older than herself. He was tall and well built. He had a mustache that made him even more attractive than he already was. But Morticia was fascinated by his eyes. Dark, deep, and full of mystery. A single spark lingered there, hidden behind those eyes. A sparkle that she assumed was easily overlooked by most.
"Killed him?" Morticia asked, mainly to keep her mouth from gaping open.
"He was murdered. Shot square in the chest. Good old cousin Balthazar." He smiled at that. "I'm Gomez Addams."
"Morticia Frump." He contemplated her name momentarily, then smiled too.
"Morticia…" He whispered. "Beautiful." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She felt her body light up. She became excited by this new man, and by the chilly night and the funeral.
Everyone else began taking their seats. Morticia let Gomez lead her to a chair in the front row. He sat next to her, still holding her hand. She didn't mind.