Wedding Day
29th February, Story #60/366
Walking up the aisle, I wonder, like many women do, if I've made a horrible mistake.
My dress is quite lovely. Tiny buds at the neckline. Ghostly leaves overlap down my torso, spreading to an autumnal swirl in the skirt. But it's not a good fit.
That's an omen.
He's solemn-backed, handsome. Jet-black suit superbly tailored. Coal-coloured hair trimmed close and freshly combed above that impossibly white collar.
Turn around, damn you.
He turns. I study his features for joy or tears. The high cheekbones, neat facial hair, the sparks in his eyes. Nothing. Only a half-smirk curling round his face then slithering off. Cold composure hinting at hidden silken heat.
I want my steps to falter, so others see a bad omen, too. Know this is wrong and (please god) save me. From this. From him. From myself.
Honeyed venom slips out the side of his mouth and pours in my ear:
"A vision, dear," he says. "You remember this couldn't happen without your consent?"
His words hit home. I'm to blame. I could've stopped this. Why didn't I? Why don't I? Because it feels too late. Because I don't want to cause a fuss.
Some say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Women ride them in a handcart powered by social conditioning. Careening along on smile more and hashtag be kind.
How could he? Stand here! A skin-sack of lies stitched together with a forked tongue! Is nothing sacred?
His eyes flash, he lets loose a throaty chuckle.
We say the words. The rings burn. Veil lifts, lips meet. The merriment at the corners of his answers the dread pinching mine. His tongue is hot, insistent.
Crooked arm offered, as if he's a gentleman. I rest my hand on it. This feels calculated on his part, and insipid on mine. But look: I haven't moved away.
We walk out and down the steps to chimes and cheering.
Down more steps, ground cracking, lava bubbling. Everyone applauding and throwing rice, as if I weren't descending steps to Hell with my hand on the Devil's arm.
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Word count (excluding note): 366
Submitted on 29th February at 22:24
*Quick Author's Note* including update on Sex Robot Challenge
First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!
Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it! Especially if you're joining me on this "story every day" madne adventure.
If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another. Here is the one I wrote yesterday.
Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: This popped into my head in the bath.
A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 60 day streak. You can find all of them in my Index post. It's also pinned to the top of my profile. I'll be posting my reflections on February, plus some prompt ideas for March, over the coming weekend.
Sex Robot Challenge:
I've collated all the entries and will make a post about them over the coming couple of days. Judging is closed, but if you've got a story that fits the prompt, you're still welcome to link me to it!
Thank you
Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads. Please do leave a comment, and I'll pop over and read one of yours as soon as I can.
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More stories from L.C. Schäfer and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim2 days ago in Wander
Comments (17)
Always like a good twist at the end.
Wow!!!! This is a fantastic piece, L.C. - I was hooked from the first sentence. Your language and imagery are vivid and the narrative voice, appropriately urgent. Brilliantly, devestatingly done. 💗
Oh! But I feel clever now! Normally your twists blindside me, but this time I was able to work it out! Haha! Maybe my media literacy is increasing :) I loved the sense of dread that hung in the shadows of every line! The way you described not only her fracturing sense of self, but also the understanding that, at any point she could (theoretically) stop the proceedings and yet she wouldn't, or couldn't for fear of the dreaded fuss.
never saw it that way...
And that is why we should always say NO to marriage. Hehehehhe. Loved your story!
I was attracted and frightened by this narrative because it goes deep and paints a clear image of the inner struggle and cultural pressures many women suffer on their wedding day.
Fantastic!!! Several outstanding lines!!! But, Randy's comment summarizes it so well!!!♥️♥️💕
You're nailing it. I think Randy has the most apt comment.
Felt every bit of this. Phenomenal writing.
For some, the Devil Wears Prada. For others, it's a tuxedo.
A modern Persephone, perhaps? I love this story a day for a year! I wish that I had the stick-to-it-ness to accomplish such a feat! In the meantime, I am enjoying your stories. You are an excellent storyteller!
At least there’s a lot of divorce lawyers there to choose from.
Lc ~ Ah, the Sacred Vows ~ I DO, "Probably." I so enjoy your many eclectic topics and the intros always draw me in. Best to you, j.in.l.a.
Masterpiece of social commentary, societal complicity in a rigged tradition and terrifying to boot! Absolutely loved it!
Wow you wrote this so well- I could feel her fear and her groom's sinister intent.
Holy moley. That's good. I say that's a feeling for a lot of women. Well done.
Well done. I feel deep sadness thinking there are people who feel like this.