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Online: 1 member, 15 guests
submitted 11 December 2007 @ 16:59
edited 11 December 2007 @ 17:01
Struggle.
Written by Jupiter Jade Thor
(4.5 rating, 3 ratings)
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“I must find a wedding gown, or I can’t be married today,” she thought as she opened her pale eyes to a paler dawn. The large old room seemed so strange. The worn Victorian sofa she had been sleeping on, did not seem to suite right as her bed.
“Where is everyone?”
She sat up and wiped dust from her creamy skin. It shook it like snow from her dark hair. Walking over the creaking boards, she began to look for a dress. For without one, she could not marry the man she loved today. She would have to meet him, for he’d left her, and would not come for her, but stay at the church until dusk. She had the length of the sun, and then he would wait no more. Sad little eyes took a moment to weep. The dry house soaked up the tears with much need.
Devotion to her task, and to meeting her fiancé swept over her, and sent her moving through the substantial estate with much passion in her barefooted steps. She opened the bathroom door in the east wing. A grand bathroom, gilded, and yellow as the dawn, dulled by time was before her. Vast arrays of gowns were hung here, and she began to try them on, one after the other. At first she was careful and tidy, but soon she ripped each from her body with a wretched angst, for each dress was torn, misshaped, or so large it could not stay upon her.
With a desperate cry, she finished the dresses off, with none to wear. As the sun moved over the house, and the slanted pale light coming through the loam-caked panes of glass, transferred from one end to the other, the girl went from one wing to the next, to each floor, into every bathroom, trying on gowns one after the other. Every bathroom she came to was set in a different color tone, and each one in turn had less and less dresses inside of them.
When the sun was at its lowest point before its setting, she had slowed as if the ending time was catching hold of her. She reached the last bathroom, set in greens and old woods. A large oval, ornate mirror hung on the wall, dingy and having seen better days, reflected the jeweled chandelier that hung on the ceiling. The intricate layers of silken spider-web strings across it reflected more light now, than the crystals did.
Twas here our broken sad sweetheart saw only one dress hanging. So with every effort left in her ever hopeful spirit, she moved to it. Standing before the embellished oval glass, she slowly, with the last strength of her body, head bent in mourning for the fear of loss for her beloved who would not come for her, she zipped up the back of the dress.
It fit.
It was absolutely beautiful on her body. The corset frame, simple and elegant swept down into a long, full train, made so thickly of satin and silk, it surely was befitting a Queen. When she started to move, her body was caught, and she hadn’t the strength left to even turn to see how she was caught, for she had wept and hurried out every ounce of her life-force with her efforts that day.
And so she was caught by the very thing she had needed so desperately to leave and meet her love. Forever more the pretty thing was trapped in that ornate bathroom. The oval looking glass watched her body try to move, the material upon her quivered with the possible momentum, every hair ready to take the breeze in flight to her one and only, but, the train, however, remained stationary.
“Where is everyone?”
She sat up and wiped dust from her creamy skin. It shook it like snow from her dark hair. Walking over the creaking boards, she began to look for a dress. For without one, she could not marry the man she loved today. She would have to meet him, for he’d left her, and would not come for her, but stay at the church until dusk. She had the length of the sun, and then he would wait no more. Sad little eyes took a moment to weep. The dry house soaked up the tears with much need.
Devotion to her task, and to meeting her fiancé swept over her, and sent her moving through the substantial estate with much passion in her barefooted steps. She opened the bathroom door in the east wing. A grand bathroom, gilded, and yellow as the dawn, dulled by time was before her. Vast arrays of gowns were hung here, and she began to try them on, one after the other. At first she was careful and tidy, but soon she ripped each from her body with a wretched angst, for each dress was torn, misshaped, or so large it could not stay upon her.
With a desperate cry, she finished the dresses off, with none to wear. As the sun moved over the house, and the slanted pale light coming through the loam-caked panes of glass, transferred from one end to the other, the girl went from one wing to the next, to each floor, into every bathroom, trying on gowns one after the other. Every bathroom she came to was set in a different color tone, and each one in turn had less and less dresses inside of them.
When the sun was at its lowest point before its setting, she had slowed as if the ending time was catching hold of her. She reached the last bathroom, set in greens and old woods. A large oval, ornate mirror hung on the wall, dingy and having seen better days, reflected the jeweled chandelier that hung on the ceiling. The intricate layers of silken spider-web strings across it reflected more light now, than the crystals did.
Twas here our broken sad sweetheart saw only one dress hanging. So with every effort left in her ever hopeful spirit, she moved to it. Standing before the embellished oval glass, she slowly, with the last strength of her body, head bent in mourning for the fear of loss for her beloved who would not come for her, she zipped up the back of the dress.
It fit.
It was absolutely beautiful on her body. The corset frame, simple and elegant swept down into a long, full train, made so thickly of satin and silk, it surely was befitting a Queen. When she started to move, her body was caught, and she hadn’t the strength left to even turn to see how she was caught, for she had wept and hurried out every ounce of her life-force with her efforts that day.
And so she was caught by the very thing she had needed so desperately to leave and meet her love. Forever more the pretty thing was trapped in that ornate bathroom. The oval looking glass watched her body try to move, the material upon her quivered with the possible momentum, every hair ready to take the breeze in flight to her one and only, but, the train, however, remained stationary.
Other Compositions by this member:
• You Lie!
10 January 2006 @ 01:35
• Habeas Corpus {or Produce The Body}
30 December 2005 @ 03:01
• 'Gretel Of Frankfurt' (prt 1)
22 November 2005 @ 06:19
• Predawn Hour's Wish
26 October 2005 @ 13:06
Member Compositions Average Rating:
(3.5 rating)
• You Lie!
10 January 2006 @ 01:35
• Habeas Corpus {or Produce The Body}
30 December 2005 @ 03:01
• 'Gretel Of Frankfurt' (prt 1)
22 November 2005 @ 06:19
• Predawn Hour's Wish
26 October 2005 @ 13:06
Member Compositions Average Rating:
(3.5 rating)
[ composition listing | post comment | view/offer feedback (1) | rate this compositions ]