Fear of Happiness

JournalWord: These flowers have teeth.

::

The bouquet of flowers fly through the air in a heap of bright green hydrangeas and crisp white and yellow daisies. The dark blue ribbon wrapped and tied around the stalks flutters, like wings aching to take to the skies, as they soar towards the pitched, excited shrieks.

Her heart drops at the site, pooling close to her knees. Not now, she begs, trained to the spot in the center of the reaching arms and summer dresses. Please, she prays, watching, frozen, as the flutter of petals sail closer. 

Her eyes are wide when the flowers crush and crash into her forehead, bouncing off her gaping expression like a physical shield.

A soft noise of disappointment rings through the crowd of whining girls when a familiar hand catches the rejected bunch of posies. Her head snaps at the frown hidden under the forgiving smile and she catches him shaking his head. 

"It's our turn," he whispers, a promise, reaching for her clenched hands entangled into the fabric of her violet bridesmaid dress. 

The flowers are missing chunks of petals and the ribbon is loose when she is forced to hold the offending object. It's so cold in her sweating palm.

::

I'm on a wedding phase!

Although both post so far are far from conventional wedding ideas...

Hopefully these give your mind a little exercise :P 

Keep cheery!

Mera.

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Leave Not A Sip Behind

JournalWord: Sharing wine with together.

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Despite the groans and protest, she smiles as she shushes her bridesmaids while ushering them out the door. She waits until the last mumble and grumble cannot be heard before sliding the lock into place and softly sighing between her glossy, pink lips. 

It is a shocking moment of realization of how quiet this beach side resort is, with only the tropical breeze rustling the palm trees in place of the constant chatter and excitement as they had prepared for her nuptials.

In her wedding dress, a sweet, light, long white gown with a flowing train and roped straps, she sweeps through the mess of hastily tossed hair curlers and mascara wands for her overnight bag, shaking her primped head and scooped up curls at the sight of foundation splashed onto a zipper and dripping from the tube down the side. Shrugging off the spill in the case it ruins her expensive dress, she quickly unzips and pries a bottle from underneath a stack of shorts and tank tops well away from the impending disaster. 

Holding up her prize, she admires the simple, short, dark bottle with a cheap label slapped onto its face. Quickly locating a wine glass from the tower on the complimentary service bar, and hopping over piles of clothes for the cork screw, she settles herself onto the balcony overlooking the ocean and tropical trees. 

With a practiced hand, she swiftly uncorks the bottle and gently pours the crude wine into her glass, noting the dark red liquid absorbing the light. Hesitantly, she swirls and sniffs the concoction before taking a bold sip.

Instantly, she pulls herself away from the foul taste, crinkling her nose at the unrefined flavor, but urges herself to swallow the vile potion. Glaring at the crystal goblet, she chuckles and tips her head up to the sky, staring at the morning sunrise to bate off any offending tears.

"This terrible, Renaldo," she whispers, almost a croak, and the edges of her painted lips quiver and struggle to lift. "Your first wine tastes like shit," she states, voice loud and clear. 

Holding up the braided stem, she allows herself another sip without moving her gaze from the changing horizon. She finishes the glass, and then the short bottle before her bridesmaids interrupt her last moment with her Spanish lover.

::

There comes a time when a loss can be celebrated in the same fashion as a meeting. 

My idea was a bride who attempts to find time alone for a moment to uncover the last gift she will receive from the man she loves before they truly must separate ways.

I wasn't intending for this to be sad (as I like to believe I am fairly optimistic), as I was hoping it would be a sort of sentiment to moving on with life and forever embedding cherished moment and people into your memory.

I hope you enjoyed reading :)

Keep cheery!

Mera.

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With Minor Differences

JournalWord: A Tuesday wedding.

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She is humming under her breath as she looks indifferently at her nails. She picks at the flaking edge of her nail and sighs, trying to remember where she buried the polish in her room.

"Do you want to get married?" he asks, his voice deceptively bored-as if he is talking about the weather.

Her mouth pops open into thought as her eyes meet his. His eyebrows slowly rise for an answer.

"Like, in general, or 'Hey Alice, wanna get married?'" she asks flippantly. A leg crosses over the other and she starts to rearrange her mini-skirt over her thighs.

He pauses to think about it. "Hey Alice, wanna get married?"

She laughs and has to forcefully stop herself when she sees hurt in his eyes. She coughs uncomfortably and turns away. "I'm working all week," she finally says. He feels his stomach knot up before he catches the shyness in her soft blush he's missed in the years they've been together. "But I'm free Tuesday."

He takes a moment to process the information and nods. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"No," she says, smiling, "you'll pick me up at four. That was the lousiest proposal ever. The least you can do is take me out to dinner afterwards."

He sighs, but returns the smile. "Fine."

::

Doomsday is coming up~!
I've got a thing for the Apocalypse so I'm all for Doomsday (although I kinda know it might not happen...).

~mera!

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