Spinning, a grand ballroom, clouds of fabric billowing.
"I do".
Candlelight illuminating guests.
The carriage awaits.....
She; panting, screaming, begging...
"I looked him in the eye!"
"I wrestled free, firing everything left in my heart chamber!"
"I yelled; "bastard!"
'My body tripped, fell, incoming horses, hit, trampled on."
"I woke."
"Surrounded, doctors, nurses, machines".
"I stopped yelling, he was gone."
"We were gone."
She; motionless, lifeless, an 18th century statue, a bloody wedding dress, repudiated into hells frozen garden.
Her epiphany; his past was her hell.
Heaven was her future.
By Leeza Cooper
About the Creator
Leeza-Bridget Cooper
Poet, scribe, and conjurer of stories and film; a surviver, world traveller and seeker of nostalgia, the vintage, and the fleeting wonder, shaping words and visions, holding the sacred key to worlds only a true artiste can appreciate.
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