[The Bride’s Sepulchre – Love Short Story]
The Bride's Sepulchre - Love Short Story
There she stood in an ivory satin gown. A lace and mesh veil covered her heavily made-up face. Her hair was curled in a sweeping updo, shining like the polished wood on a pine coffin.
My what a beautiful bride you’ll be!
Her steps were slow, and she took her time. She was methodical in the way the hem of her dress grazed every inch of the aisle. He looked impatient. She looked hesitant.
Like the breath before a first love’s kiss.
There was a short pause where her father handed her away. An inexistant snarl was on the bride’s father’s face. There was a moment of strategizing and reconsideration.
Like the moment before an enemy’s fist.
His hand was hard and cold against hers. Foreign was the right word, a stranger’s hand was holding her own. Somewhere in the midst of time did a beloved’s hand, turn alien with repeated use.
If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare. –Ralph Waldo Emerson
And it astonished her how well she knew those hands, but how much uncertainty in their behaviors were. The same hands that brushed tears away, had brought those same tears to her face.
It’s not your fault you lost your luster. I’m sorry I have to do this, but you brought it upon yourself.
Now he was placing eternity on her finger. Suddenly her slim digit had become weighted with forever. She reciprocated, as she was instructed to do. She know knew that his fist would be heavier now, more painful, and more permenant. She also realized that her own weight would slow her down and leave her defenseless.
I have bound myself to Mount Kaukasos and sharpened your beak.
He then kissed her. His saliva was formaldyhyde, just like every previous peck. With every brush of his lips, she grew increasingly indifferent to life. Her blood was drained and replaced with toxin. Even if she tried to escape, her kiss was desperate for more.
Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I’ve done it thousands of times .-Mark Twain
Once she left, and her mouth was starving for an impossible wholeness. Many a man would give her his kiss, hoping to fulfill her hunger. And in the process of helping, they were poisoned by the arsenic left on her lips. Many a man would give her their hearts, but what worth is a heart without blood.
The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread. – Mother Teresa
She walked arm and arm with him down the aisle. He was her very own coffin, custom made for her. She was home now.
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