The old sewing machine sat forgotten until a ghostly foot operated the treadle. The needle ran over moldy fabric stitching a fine hem, forty years too late. Rust stains marred the remnants of what might have become a gown. The white ruffles were aged by time to tan.
Still the machine sewed and invisible hands steered the fabric, adding ribbons here and crinoline there. As the machine worked it began to glow. And when the needle rose that final time, its light spilled down the gown making it sparkle for the new bride waiting downstairs.