Friday, February 4, 2011

FFF - Flash Fiction Friday

As soon as she awoke, she glanced out the window to see if the weatherman’s predictions had been correct. “Why? Why today of all days does he have to be right?” she wondered when her sleep deprived eyes focussed on the rain pelting down sideways, carried by driving winds.

“Oh well,” she brushed off her disappointment and jumped out of bed resolved to have the best day of her life. As she passed her wedding gown hanging from a hook near the ceiling, she couldn’t help but reach out and caress it. Oh how she’d longed for this day.

She’d always dismissed the stories of other brides-to-be telling how the dress picked them. How slipping it on just felt right. How tears flowed when they caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. Until it was her turn.

The dress didn’t particularly catch her eye, but the gallery attendant insisted she try it on. It was as if it held magical powers. She felt transformed. Beautiful. Loved. Invincible. It was the one. Just as she knew Trent was the one.

She and her two best friends had a full morning ahead of them: breakfast, hair appointments, facials and make-up, then back to the house to slip into her magical dress before heading off to the church to marry her prince.

She refused to have her spirit dampened, even when the wind flipped their umbrellas inside out and the rain played havoc with their coifed tresses. She was marrying the man of her dreams and nothing could prevent this from being the best day of her life.

The limo pulled up in front of the old stone church. “This is it!” she squeezed her maid of honour’s hand and giggled like a school girl as they climbed out of the car.

The driver and her dad held umbrellas for her as she side-stepped around a puddle at the bottom of the stairs leading into the church. She forgot how much fabric was bunched up behind her as she held her dress up around her knees, showing off her floral rubber boots.

Rrrrrip. The beautiful dress caught on the handrail and tore a six inch corner tear. She wanted to cry. But again, the transforming powers of the dress helped her to hold her head high. “At least it’s in the back,” she consoled herself and forged ahead. Her groom awaited her.

She expected to hear music and see all the mini lights twinkling when she entered the church. There was darkness and silence. She immediately realized the power was out.

There was a bit of mad scrambling and the wedding started a half hour late, but she walked down the aisle in candlelight to her sister’s beautiful acappella voice singing I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You. It was a tender and magical moment.

The planned garden photo shoot was out of the question. Disappointing, yes. Devastating, no. For she was beautiful, loved, invincible. Though not at all the wedding she dreamed of, it was memorable for sure.

Ten years later, she pulled the torn dress from her closet and put it on. It still fit - she gave a little prayer of thanks. They would celebrate their tenth anniversary by renewing their vows in the old stone church and finally getting their garden wedding pictures taken.

She looked in the mirror. Tears streamed down her face. She felt beautiful. Loved. Invincible.

The writing prompt was "Ten years later she pulled the torn dress from her closet"

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