Of Pheasant, and Gooseberry Tarts
The moment before
The morning is quiet. The air itself does not stir, the sun barely dares peak over the horizon. In her 12 years she’d not known such a morning. She remains in bed and traces shadows on the ceiling and imagines dragons, and soldiers, and kings, unsure of what to do.
Today is a big day. IMPORTANT was the word her mother had used. Her father had not looked at her, but he’d bought her favorites for dinner, which must have cost a fortune she knew they did not have.
'Important,' she thought, 'but what does it mean - to marry?'
About the Creator
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