Feb 18

The Wedding

The woman watched as the waves rolled in and broke on the sand of the deserted beach and it almost seemed to her like the ocean was angry.  Each wave crashed in white fury a little further than the last and the sand seemed powerless to stop the ocean’s angry assault.  She knew that a storm was coming and in many ways had already engulfed her life on what was to be her wedding day.  The perfection she had spent months planning for would not be ruined by anything lest of all some dark clouds thickening over the ocean.

She looked away from the sea and the sun smiled down upon her as she gazed into the blue skies that still covered half of the sky.  She fondly remembered when she had met Stephen on the same beach.  She had known right away that she was going to marry him and her heart never wavered even once.  It had been fate that had brought them together and despite the ocean being angry that day too, it was a perfect memory.

A small rumble of thunder sounded from somewhere over the ocean and she turned her attention back to the waves which seemed a little bit bigger than they had just moments ago.  She tried to clear her thoughts but relented  as she knew that she didn’t want to think clearly.  She didn’t want to remember the reason why she was on the beach on her wedding day.   Despite her best efforts, several images of Stephen flittered through her mind and she closed her eyes tightly as she mentally pushed them back.  She didn’t want to remember him that way, all cold and wet.

“Fiona,” whispered a voice on the wind and she opened her eyes hoping more than anything to see Stephen again but she only saw a bolt of lightning on the horizon.  The storm was moving in faster as the blue sky behind her was being pushed back and soon even the sun would disappear.  She felt a drop of water on her cheek that then ran down to her mouth.  She initially thought that the rain had started to fall, but the drop was salty and tasted of sorrow.

“Fiona darling,” the whisper said and this time she could see Stephen standing waist deep in the ocean and smiling at her.  His pale form was still wet and looked very cold like in the memories she had pushed away.  However, it was different because he was smiling and not dead anymore.  A part of her mind protested and wanted nothing more than to scream and run away in fear.  That part of her knew that he was dead.  However, it was her special day and on such a perfect day there was nothing to be afraid of.  If her dead fiancée was smiling at her then everything would be okay.

“I am coming, my love,” she said as she took her first step towards him.  Her smile broadened as she would swear the wind was howling to the tune of the wedding march.  She looked around her and could see the faint images of her family and friends as they were seated on pews that created an aisle leading into the ocean.  The small rational part of her memory remembered Stephen’s body lying on a slab with a white sheet covering him.

She flinched for a second as she reached the wet sand and a wave rolled over her shoes.  The water was very cold which was not surprising for Maine in late October.  She pushed away the numbness as she looked at Stephen and the ghostly preacher that was waiting for her to finish her march towards the wedding party.  Another crack of thunder reverberated across the storm clouds which had reached the sun and was taking away the last rays of warmth.  The woman did not seem to notice as she reached her pale groom and took his cold icy hands into hers.

The preacher spoke and she wanted to listen to him but all she could do was stare at the white face of the man.  Even cold and wet, she loved him with everything in her heart and was not able to care or focus on anything else.  The water was still rising and it almost covered her breasts.  The cold was no longer registering in her brain as most of her body had become numb to it.  The rain had finally come and it too was cold and hid the tears that still flowed from her eyes.  She finally heard the preacher as he pronounced them husband and wife in a creepy voice that sounded like thunder.  She smiled and then opened her mouth to accept the salty kiss of her groom.

The sun had finally returned with a new day and its light found the cold and wet body of Fiona lying washed up on the beach.  No matter how much warmth reached her body, it failed to warm and regain color.  If the sun were alive it would weep for the woman who had lost her fiancée when his fishing boat sank a week ago.   The sun would be angry at that same vindictive sea which had claimed Fiona’s life on her perfect day, on her wedding day.

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