Day 31 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a wedding that should not be happening.
Erin: “Lily told me you’re going to be looking at houses this weekend,” I told Luke as we ate lunch and discussed our current project.
“We’re not getting married for a week,” he reminded.
“I’m not the one who said you’re going house hunting, don’t take this out on me,” I defended against his outburst.
“I just don’t think this is, the appropriate time to be talking about this,” he snapped.
“Neither do I,” I agreed. “Maybe, you should be having this conversation with her.”
“Well I’m having this conversation with you,” he continued to sass.
“Don’t blame me that you’re never going to make your wife happy,” I screamed and stormed off before he could continue the argument.
“Who are you to say that,” he continued to fight. “She’s happy,” he yelled.
“If she is always looking to the future, she is never going to be happy with you now.”
Shannon: “What is he doing here? I thought you said if he showed up, you’d have him kicked out,” I whispered into Anna’s ear, trying to conceal my distress from the rest of the church.
“Don’t worry about him, I decided it doesn’t matter,” she roped her arm through mine and placed it on my back, trying to direct me to the altar.
I resisted and instead looked back to him again. I only saw her ex because he was on the end of the pew, and as she walked past him I saw her looking out of the corner of her eye. From her movements I could feel her basking in his undivided attention, a sensation she never got from me, even now, even on our wedding day.
I grabbed her forearm to push away her touch, “I need to talk to you,” I said out loud, looking into her eyes.
Her face immediately scrunched at my unscheduled request, “Don’t ruin my wedding,” she warned.
I gave the pastor an apologetic look and then lead her to the side until we were outside of the church and standing in the hallway. I made sure the door completely closed before I spoke, “This is your wedding, not my wedding.” I put my hand on my chest finally seeing the situation clearly. It was a little late, but better now than after we signed the papers.
“I don’t understand. I asked you what you wanted. You didn’t seem to want to make any decisions. I didn’t know think the flowers, and the colors, and the place mattered to you, but this is what we’ve got,” she shrugged putting both hands in the air.
“No,” I shook my head and put my hands on temples at her misunderstanding. “I don’t care about that. I care about you,” my hands moved forward and I wanted to hold her cheeks and show her how much I cared, but it wasn’t my place anymore. “And you still care about someone else,” I tried to hold it together, but my eyes were already starting to tear up.
“You’re wrong,” she shook her head and took hold of my defeated hands. “I don’t love Miles, only you.”
I wanted to believe her, but her actions didn’t match up with her words. “I can never have your full heart. Not if he’s here,” more tears fell as I realized I was letting go of something I loved so much.
“No, you’re wrong,” she started crying too and she took a hold of fallen face. “We can kick him out. You never have to see him again. I’m sorry.” She was panicking.
“Kicking him out of the church doesn’t mean he’s not still here,” I lifted my hands to demonstrate how she couldn’t hide from the truth. “Deep down if both options were on the table you’d pick him, be honest,” I demanded, starting to calm down, “And if he objected to this marriage, you might just agree with him,” I held her chin, hoping she’d finally accept the truth.
She faded away to somewhere else, and that was the only answer I needed. Eventually she came back to me, “So what do we do now?”
I shrugged, “How about we just start by not making the biggest mistake of our lives?”
“Ok,” she nodded nervously before lunging into me for a hug.
You object to theses two getting married.
Jane spun in the full-length mirror, the pale skirt of her wedding gown flaring out around her thighs. Here and there the gauzy top layer glistened in the fantastic lighting while the bottom layer shimmered with silky luxury. Above the waist the neckline was conservative but the fabric hugged her form like a second skin, slinking its way down her arms. From the glistening sequins around the neckline to the golden embroidery snaking its way around the bodice screamed extravagance.
As she turned to look at me, her eyes shining, she stumbled off the low stage in the official bride’s parlour. I rose frantically, catching her at the waist as she fell forward. Struggling with the sudden extra weight I sunk to my knees as she giggled hysterically. When I sat her comfortably on the stage she sat, her golden locks wrapping elegantly around her head in an intricate rose; it matched the subtle embroidery on the dress.
Kneeling before her to inspect the polished make up, taking a tissue to the mascara that had leached into her perfectly blended cover-up. I carefully reapplied the blush along her cheek as she winced minutely; we were covering a relatively new bruise she refused to speak of. But when I was finished with the blush she grasped my wrist with her bare, bony fingers.
“Laura,” she slurred drunkenly, the sweet smell of spirits hitting my nose, “I need y’u ta do somethin’ fer me, ‘kay?” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Looking between her red-ringed eyes I nodded politely at the concern in her eyes. When she smiled the slur got worse, “Grea’ I need ya ta talk ta Noah ‘bout his vows. He was strug-stuger, hold on, strugglin’.”
I looked into the intoxicated eyes of my best friend an hour before her wedding and bowed solemnly. When I walked to the door I glanced back at the sorry figure and sighed. Outside in the hallway I searched for the sign for the groom’s room, my pink heels clacking on the refurbished wood floors. Somewhere on the other side of the church was the right room so I needed to hurry.
Finally I stopped before a room emblazoned with a tuxedo-sporting stick figure in a top hat with the word GROOM in curly lettering. Knocking emphatically I leaned against the wall beside the door nonchalantly, no one needed to know the bridesmaid had been sent to help the groom write his vows. Though, truthfully, I wasn’t sure that was why I’d been sent.
When the door finally opened, the best man, Ethan, popped his head out and peered around. Upon seeing me he slammed the door before I could say a word, the sound resonating through the hall. I knocked again, more insistently this time, and the lock was turned to bar my entry.
Cursing silently to myself I whispered through the crack, “Jane sent me to make sure you had your vows done, Noah. Ethan, let me in!” I banged angrily on the door with my foot, to the chagrin of many passing guests, before the bolt was released and the door swung noisily on old hinges. Standing before the doorframe was the towering figure of Ethan as I searched the enormous room for any sign of the groom. Sweetly I glared at the best man, spitting, “Where’s Noah, Ethan?”
Before he could answer there was a commotion from a side door and a woman dressed in a lovely chartreuse number that only covered a fifth of her body staggered out. When she saw me she hiccupped and shrugged her shoulder strap up. Slipping her shoes back on she stalked across the carpeted room with grace before hissing indignantly, “He’s all yours honey, but he’s already had a taste of the best.” As the woman wandered down the hall, clearly tipsy, I slammed the door behind me.
Now Ethan took a predatory stance between me and the man I was about to tear a new one; he wasn’t going to like being there. But as I made a move to pass the giant, Noah strolled out of the closet smoking a cigarette with his shirt unbuttoned. If I’d had my wits about me I would’ve given him a shiner to match his bride but I was too stunned with the blatant disregard to his soon-to-be wife.
There was a moment where the foul smoke hung in the air between us before I screamed, “You bastard! I’ll kill you! She loves you and you betray her like this!?” I was only held back by Ethan positioning himself strategically; for a big guy he was pretty smart. Tears sprung to my eyes and I angrily whisked them away.
All Noah did was grin savagely and take a deep drag before letting out a raucous bout of laughter, which Ethan joined in on. Sniggering like a child he just mused, “Yeah, Jane loves me enough to not care what I do. I can do whatever I want and she’ll still stay with me.”
I took a few deep breaths, feeling the smoke burning my throat, and timidly began, “Noah, you have never once seen your fiancé sober. She’s been popping pills and drinking since the day you met.” As I continued my voice became higher-pitched and full of stronger emotion, shouting at this ungrateful pig, “And you’re to blame for that! Without you she was happy and, and we were best friends. You took my best friend from me,” as the last syllable dropped in the silent, still room I left.
When I was standing on the other side of the door, struggling to breathe deeply enough to settle my heart, I let the tears fall. As they splashed on my royal amethyst dress I sank to the solid floor and came apart at the seams.
By the time I was marching dutifully into the ladies bathroom my mascara was in rivers down my cheeks with horrible anguish at Noah’s selfishness. Dipping a tissue in cold water I dabbed hastily at the lines, cursing myself for not springing for waterproof. I always knew I’d cry at Jane’s wedding; I just didn’t realize it would be over the loss of my best friend. Carefully smoothing out the concealer I strutted briskly back to Jane’s room to find her passed out on the carpet.
For a moment I just stood in the doorway waiting for everything else to go wrong, but they didn’t. When I walked over to her, Jane perked up and lazily lifted her head, mumbling nonsense at me. I lifted her by the armpits before fixing her smudged makeup again; I was tempted to let the bruise show through, but this wasn’t my secret to tell. Leaning against me Jane murmured jovially in the way only she could.
As I finally led her to the staging room just outside the cathedral she looked me in the eye and grinned, “Everything is gonna be alright, Laura.” I hated to leave her there but I had to walk in with Ethan, being annoyingly careful not to stomp on his stupid toes.
The giant idiot was already picking his teeth waiting for me as Jane’s dad slipped through the door and I quietly shut the door. Tilting his head mockingly I shoved my hand through Ethan’s bent arm just as the organ began to play a slow wedding drudge Noah had picked out. Though his shirt was wrinkled and his shoes were scuffed his girlfriend gleamed at him from the fifth row as we strolled down the aisle.
On either side of us were bouquets of cream roses and lilacs tied with royal amethyst ribbons while the minister wore an orchid-coloured suit to match the décor. If it hadn’t been for Noah’s horrible taste in music the wedding would be lovely. When we reached the front and Ethan took back his arm forcibly I scowled at the groom, who smiled right back.
After a few moments Jane’s little cousin, who was wearing an adorable lilac outfit, ran out between the pews and the bride herself stepped through the doorway behind her. As she stepped carefully around the cream petals her cousin tossed haphazardly Jane’s father steadied her faithfully; he would be the last one to tell her who not to marry, but the first to kill the boy who broke her heart. I was hoping she’d tell him Noah hit her soon.
When they made it to the front without incident I let go of the breath I had been holding and smiled at Jane. Taking her delicate hand from her father Noah helped her up the steps and continued to grip her wrists tightly throughout the entire ceremony. As they kissed at the end and the room erupted in excited applause I shed a few painful tears for my lost best friend.
“Allana the blessed mother. In sanctity we give, our maidenship preserved to thee. For only you to allow the sacred union under threat of divine judgement.” – A common prayer of initiation for young daughters. Ophiea was going to break that vow. She had been the last in line of her sisters, all married off to neighboring noble houses as soon they were of age. She remembered standing on the front porch, each of her sisters walking down the long path out of the courtyard, never to return. She had stayed in touch with three of her sisters so far but one has cut ties with her old life.
She looked around the shabby temple, a few flickering candles illuminating the hidden den. A maiden priestess of Allana, patiently smiled as the two of them waited, a dragonfly pendant hung on her chest. The older women spoke up. “It is all right to be nervous. Everyone has to seek Allana’s approval.” The priestess peaked out a small window. “He will be here soon. I must say your mother has chosen…oddly.” She paused, looking over Ophiea with knowing eyes. “But you say that your love for this man is more than your duty?”
Ophiea nodded, as I shakily took a few breaths. “Maidenbearer Cellia, if I can only make one choice, I want to choose at least the man I love before tomorrow.” She solemnly looked at my plain dress. “Me and Johan want this before I go.”
A three-rapt tap on the door startled both. The priestess opened it and ushered Johan in. He nervously stepped in. “Ophiea?”
“Johan.” Ophiea somberly smiled, knowing tomorrow’s wedding will undo it all.
(Last one of the day!! …Even though it may not be submitted until Feb. 1, I wrote the beginning in Jan 31st.)
Created to Write:
Josh and Heather were asked to watch over the Barton kids while Laura had to go on an errand run. Clint was in a foreign country, and Heather wasn’t busy, so she agreed. Only if she had back up.
Heather went off to help Cooper practice some shooting with a bow his uncle got him, while Josh stayed inside with Lila. Nathanial sleeps in the nursery nearby.
“So, miss Lila, what would you like to do next?” Josh asks. Lila thinks, shyly looking at him.
Heather walks in, Cooper at her heels after storing the weapon away. Heather sees Lila wearing a white towel over her head, and she had changed into one of her white dresses.
“Lila, Josh, what are you two up to?” Heather asks. Josh kneels across from Lila, sheepish.
“I’m marrying Josh,” Lila chirps.
Heather chuckles, “Lila, you can’t marry Josh.”
“…Why not?” Lila asks.
“Well… he’s much older than you,” Heather states, “And you don’t know much about each other.”
“I want to marry Josh,” Lila says, stomping her foot. “It’s not like you’re going to.”
Heather blushes at the thought.
“Oh… Heather has someone else in mind for that,” Josh says.
Heather turns to look at him, a playful glare evident.
“Just kiss my cheek, then I’ll make a snack,” Josh says, turning back to the little girl. Lila perks up, gives him a kiss, then runs off, the towel falling to the floor.
Josh stands up, chuckling. “Clint will put an arrow through your foot if he hears you ‘married’ his niece without permission,” Heather teases.
“It was just play,” Josh states, “she was really shy when asking, I couldn’t say no to those eyes.”
“Still, don’t get that one girl jealous. What’s her alias…” Heather thinks, “I think Rick said it was… Bronze Scimitar?”
Josh scoffs, “And Rick knows everything, doesn’t he?”
“…You can’t exactly mute your comms,” Heather says slyly, resulting in blush creeping up Josh’s cheeks.
(Yes, I said Barton is their uncle. But that’s because in my fan fiction, I’m changing him to be that. It makes more sense in my mind.
On that note: YAY! I finished January!!)