Wedding Day

Okay, so you all may have noticed that the previous two pieces were connected by a wedding. So, this is the last post that will be based off of that idea. The first post I did was actually made to prequel the other two. I just couldn't figure out how to connect it without writing a whole other piece for this little three-piece story. So, enjoy this last part of 'The Wedding'.

    The bride stood there in the brightly lit room as the bridesmaids in dresses of violet, and her mother in a dress of powder blue, helped to slide the white silk dress over her head. With a few deft movements of her fingers, the brides mother tied the drawstrings off, to hold the dress. Her mother made a small, twirling motion with her finger, and in response the bride performed a quick spin. Making a face, her mother fussed over a small piece of the dress that did not sit right. After tugging on the dress a few times, and making the bride turn around once more, her mother finally gave her nod of approval. After a moment, the bride inspected herself. She ran her hands down the front of her dress, the gleaming pearls that embroidered the entire dress providing a slight contrast to the otherwise perfectly smooth silk piece. The mirror shone brightly, showing the bride her reflection surrounded by her close friends and mother. Each wore a beautiful dress, though none could compare to the radiance of the bride's own white gown. They all gathered together and gave each other a hug before they lined up together, with the bride at the back, and the mother at the front. After a brief delay, the line moved out of the open door, slowly making their way to the sanctuary. They paused at the sanctuary doors for a minute, and the mother and bridesmaids made their way down the red carpeted aisle. For one moment, there was utter silence. Then the organ struck up a tune, and the bride's father emerged from a side door, and offered her his arm. With a gentle smile, the bride dropped the veil over her face, and took the proffered arm. With that, they both walked down the aisle. They took the walk that would be the end of her old life, and the beginning of her new. If you walked into this room, you would be captivated by the white, veined marble that made up the pillars that held the ceiling, or the gorgeous mahogany pews that lined the sides of the aisle, or even the vast mural that was composed of stained glass, that depicted the last supper of Jesus Christ. But today, none of that could pull your eyes off of the gleaming white vision that made her way down to her new beginning. Here went the bride, by the side of her husband, dressed all in black, so that the attention was all on her. His wife, his other half, the Bride.

Dressing for the Occasion

So, I figured that this post should make up for the lost time between the last two posts. I still plan to make another piece in about four days, so don't worry. Enjoy the next installment of this little mini series I have going.

A middle-aged bishop ran his perfectly manicured fingers through his graying, black hair as he gave his appearance a look in the mirror. Incense smoldered quietly in a small bowl behind him, spreading an ethereal scent through the small, stuffy room behind the front stage in the chapel. Two candelabras on either side of the room helped illuminate the room that would otherwise be dark without the stained glass window that sat in the back wall, letting the days first rays of light through. There was a loud clang as the bell rang, announcing the morning. Royal blues, smoldering reds, and splashes of gleaming golds played upon the carpet, walls, and the priest's white robes, lending to the unreal feeling that the incense already gave off. Giving himself another glance in the gleaming silver mirror, the bishop straightened his robes with a small jerk on the hem. He then gently picked up his silk zucchetto, and placed the deep purple piece on his head. Once this piece was secured, he then picked up his white miter with golden embroidery, and placed that on top of the small skull cap. With one final look at his dress, he gave himself a pleased nod, and watched as a young, ink-covered page stumbled through the door. He breathed heavily as he handed the bishop the speech that he had had the boy write down for him. The yellowed parchment crackled quietly as he unrolled it, the colorful light from the window created terrific patterns on the paper. With a nod of approval, the bishop sent the page on his way, and walked out into the sanctuary, as the men and women began to take their seats. The wedding would start soon, now.

Making the Speech

I realize how late this post is, and it was completely accidental. I have been busy, along with dealing with some personal issues, and the combination of these two things have made me about two weeks late on my second post. I will try to be more punctual in the future, but I can not make any promises.

The black ink shines darkly as the pen stirs it within its well, causing the phantasmal reflections to become twisted and distorted. The young page withdraws the quill from the ink, and pulls it over to the sheet of parchment before him. There is a light sound of scratching as he drags pen across paper, making every stroke with practiced ease. A beautiful flowing script begins to fill the borders of the yellowed parchment, each letter pouring into the next, making it difficult to find a beginning to each new word. The scratching pauses temporarily as the page reaches up with ink-stained hands to pull the chestnut locks of hair away from his eyes. Once his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the page begins to write once again. After a few moments, he returns to dip the nib of the quill into the ink. There is a loud clang as the first rays of morning light fall upon the polished silver church bells. Quickly, the page gathers his parchment, ink well and quill, and runs down the creaking, rough wooden stairs. He had a wedding to attend.