Someday... A Short Story For Steemit
First, the birds sang. Then the windows and doors started to open, one by one. Far off on the horizon, the sun slowly rose. And the first light of day began to wipe away the darkness of the long night.
From my perch at the middle of the town square, I watched it all unfold. It was another night gone, and another day begun..
But I hadn't lost hope. Not yet...
Pixabay
The old cathedral was barely filled. The empty pews were as significant, if not more, than the very few that were occupied.
All of my family occupied four of the front rows. All meaning those who still considered me a worthy Crawford after my perceived "ill-advised" choice of a husband.
But I didn't really care. No one could have supported me, and it still wouldn't have bothered me one bit. For I had Robert, my Robert..
The voice of the priest interrupted my thoughts...
"Do you, Lucinda Crawford, take Robert Harrison Frost, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have, and to hold, in sickness and in hea..."
I stared at the face of my Robert. The very thought that he was mine, would be mine in only a few more minutes excited me. It excited me in ways I couldn't possibly express.
Till death do us part? Till forever? I wondered how long forever would be. Not nearly enough I thought to myself.
Those eyes, that smile, those dimples, the feel of those lips when we kissed..
"Lucinda..." The voice of the priest broke my reverie again, and I smiled with knowing..
For there was.. there could only ever be one answer..
"I do."
Robert looked down with me as I pushed my grandmother's old ring up his finger. I thought his hands trembled a bit, but then I wasn't sure. I probably was trembling with delight myself. Perhaps I was thinking too much.
I smiled, looking back up at him as the priest began again...
"Do you, Robert Harrison Frost, take Lucinda Crawford, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have..."
Wife.. wife.. wife...
It sounded strange in my ears, in my head, but it sent waves of sweet electricity coarsing through my body. I Lucy, would be Robert's wife. It felt too good, too perfect, but it was about to be true...
I closed my eyes, and waited for the sequence of words that would bind us forever...
"I do."
My heart probably skipped more than a few beats. Nirvana beckoned...
Then the priest...
"With the power vested upon me by the state..." he paused, and I held my breath..
Any moment now...
Now...
Or now...
...
Then I felt, rather than heard the pandemonium. I felt Robert's hand reluctantly slip off mine. I opened my eyes.. and my heart sank.
The tears came, but my voice was lost. The pain I felt was almost physical. I sank to my knees..
"Lucy..."
I heard his call, but I still couldn't speak. All I did was watch. Watch as he was taken away, taken away from me. On our wedding day...
My Robert...
We weren't even declared husband and wife yet...
First, the birds went quiet. Then the windows and doors started to slam shut, one by one. High above, the moon slowly unveiled. And the last signs of day quickly faded away to the darkness of the long night.
From my perch at the middle of the town square, I watched it all unfold. It was another day gone, and another long night begun..
But I hadn't lost hope. Not yet...
I know he'd come back to me...
Someday...
THE END
Written for no one in particular, but with someone in mind. I hope someone found it as pleasantly melancholic as I did...
Oh this is so beautifully sad, you express so much history between the two in your scene setting, your skill with the unspoken always astounds me. Melancholy is just the right word <3 it just ends so well, very much feel the weight of her hope, as always, your stories are such a pleasure to read ❤️
And your comments, just the tonic he needs... ❤️
Hi seesladen,
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Gracias 😘
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What a sad story.. I think this is one of the worst things that could happen to anyone. Finally you are standing there in front of the altar with someone you love and in a split of a second you stand there alone and your life completely changes but not the way you expected it would change after the wedding.. I'm not sure if I would call it melancholy as the feeling from your story is stronger than melancholy..
You could say so much in such a short story.. well done!
Thank you for sharing and have a great weekend!
Thanks for reading, and thanks for the kind words. I love when my readers loved reading.
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I loved how gradually the story unfolded, with a hint of suspense as I read through...
It must have been really hard for Lucinda, he was close yet so far away and then, he was gone... Hopefully, someday, her wishes will come true...
You wrote this so well, it was great reading through...
Thanks very much. I enjoyed Writing it.
Your body of work was recognized and resteemed by @trueexpressions, the social expression crypto space for creative thinkers, writers, artists and musicians.
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Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Gracias.😘
I love how the beginning and end blurb are just repeats of each other, wherewith the story repaints the "after-the-fact" inner monologue of the non-wife. The story itself is that pure moment where which all the history so far seems to have justified their union, seeing how much emotional energy they outburst here. To then only have it robbed in front of their eyes as it was not meant to be unfortunately. Taken by Fortuna herself, does the inner monologue not only changed but alludes to an ambiguity.
Now what do I mean ambiguity? I mean in the sense of double meaning if we just break the word down. This ambiguity of it just being a scene to then also being a morose scene is clearly present yet one over the other trying to affirm themselves. The outsider view from the beginning to the inner monologue of the end; to just say both are equally valid would betray their hearts and make them more angered. Truly it is better to say that both are pieces to a grand picture of which the story can only allude to. The Objective-Subjective World, of which only the non-wife truly knows: she being in the material World, yet equally it reminding her the horrid "Wedding memory" she will fight against and overcome as she will not let that unholy memory take control of her. As long as she has that Kirkegaardian faith in her.
{Also outstanding job yielding that @curie vote, got mines recently as well~ Anyways, good evening or day or morning or high noon or afternoon to yah, @seesladen.}
Oh boy... You do make a bomb of a comment when you get down to it. I never got to read Kirkegaard so I didn't catch that last drift.
But of course, it was pleasing, and somehow strange I must admit, viewing the story from the philosopher's eyes. The dichotomy between the actual, and the other world. And of course, the non-wife. Oh @theironfelix, how apt!
✌️
Welcome for the comment there. ^^
But thank yah, again, for the story here~
Very shocking. Quite enigmatic. Lots of questions opened about the nature of this narrator or ven about his reliability.
Night and day seem to be the contending forces here, as much as good and evil or natura-supernatural.