 |
SEPULCHRAL WEDDING
By Mary McTaggart
Inside a cathedral of gothic elegance,
The music of pipe organs induces a trance.
The rough, obsidian stones reminisce of the graves
Beyond the church's shadow as light begins to fade.
Open wide the doors for the bride has arrived;
With her pale, ivory face, she seems barely alive.
At the altar the groom smiles possessively,
His gentleman's demeanor hiding great animosity.
With a doomed grace, she walks down the aisle,
The bridal song playing softly all the while.
The guests are all crying as the groom lifts her veil;
She's having trouble breathing for the air is too stale.
Silence descends as the priest begins the invocation;
To the bride's ears, it echoes condemnation.
She is trapped as the golden snare slides on her finger;
In her soul, the words "until death do you part" will linger.
The sepulchral wedding ends with the toll of broken bells,
And with a single kiss, the beginning of hell.
~*~
"Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue."
The young, soon-bride-to-be looked over her four objects critically. For some reason, according to her mother, it was absolutely necessary to gather these four items. Her grandmother had given her antique jade brooch; her father had bought an exquisite string of pearls and her dearest cousin Courtney had donated a diamond-studded hairpiece. Katherine only had to find "something blue," and one of many tedious marriage traditions would be complete.
"I've never put much faith in these wedding rules," a mild, male's voice interrupted. "Aren't the vows supposed to be enough? What's with all this extra baggage, Kat?"
Katherine nearly jumped. Her tiny hand covered her fluttering heart. She twisted around. "Jack! You're not supposed to be here! Don't scare me like that!"
The little boy with the cornflower hair and winter sky eyes carefully sat down on the bed across from the vanity. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old, and yet he displayed maturity beyond his years. He tilted his head and sighed despondently. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Can't you see I'm busy?" she asked irritably, but at the same time, turning her head so that her curly, auburn hair would hide her telltale, blushing cheeks.
"Remember when we used to say that we'd grow up and marry some day?"
"I'm seventeen now, Jack."
"I know. You grew up so fast." Jack reiterated his sigh. "Just say that you remember."
At his quiet, but heartfelt plea, even Katherine's harsh attitude had to melt. "Yes, I remember." Her voice became soft and wistful. "We'd play in the garden every summer. We'd pretend the greatest adventures together and you'd save me from those dreadful monsters. And in return, I promised to give you a kiss when we were married."
Jack smiled. "I knew it."
Katherine shook her head and smoothed her hands over her gray, lacy skirt. "Those childish games are over for me forever, Jack. I'm getting married to Mr. Bartholomew according to my parents' wishes. That's final."
"Kate, It doesn't have to be, you know," Jack murmured darkly.
"What do you mean? Do you think that I have any choice in this matter?"
"Whom are you talking to, darling?"
In one swift movement, she turned around completely in her seat to face the door. Her mother, an elegant, proper woman through and through, stood like a grave omen at the bedroom door. She studied the room suspiciously, but there was no one, save for Katherine.
"Just to myself," the daughter responded placidly.
"Well, stop that nonsense at once!"
"Yes, mother."
Ms. Iris nodded sharply once. Then she calmly glided over to her daughter and picked up a thick hairbrush. With a gentleness that belied her stern demeanor, she brushed Katherine's curly hair to silky brightness. Katherine studied her mother's reflection in the mirror. Curiosity overpowered her demure obedience.
"Do you remember Jack?" Katherine blurted.
"Oh?" The brush ceased moving. "Who?"
"Jack, the stable boy I used to play with?"
The mother blinked once as memory recalled a child's faded image. "You mean the boy who died of scarlet fever all those years ago? Why do you mention him?"
"No reason, mother."
"Put the past where it belongs, my dear," Ms. Iris advised. "Behind you."
'Yes, put the past behind me,' Katherine thought sadly. 'In the neglected garden overtaken by weeds.'
~*~
The day of the wedding arrived. Katherine's relatives arrived early to the church, an imposing stone building standing alone on top of a hill. Looking at it from afar made quite an impact on the viewer as it rose to pierce the sky. The sun slowly died behind it, making the church's presence seem obscenely ominous and foreboding.
Inside the sanctuary, even the whispers were magnified, so that even the most discreet of voices could be heard quite clearly. However, the pipe organ continually played a melancholy hymn over those voices. It reverberated throughout the halls, filling the emptiness.
At the altar stood the groom. He was a man in his late thirties, hair faintly gray, and thin lips lifted in a mere imitation of a smile. His relatives were few and far between, and not half as lively as his bride's family. Mr. Bartholomew gave a short nod to someone sitting in the pews and then turned to face the holy cross again.
Behind the entrance, Katherine awaited her fate.
The wide doors opened and the tiny flower girl, a cherub beauty dressed in pure white, began to walk down the aisle at her mother's mouthed urging. She flung the blossoms left and right. Sometimes they fell on the floor, and other times they lightly touched a person's face. All the while, she smiled gaily, having only the barest idea what the purpose of all this was.
Then the bridesmaids, porcelain doll visions in pastel blue, followed. They gazed straight ahead over the crowd towards the altar, finally standing in their appointed places, as solemn as statues.
At last, the infamous bridal song spilled from the pipe organs. Everyone stood up and looked backwards respectfully at the young bride. Katherine inhaled sharply as she took her first step. She desperately clung to her deceased father's words on duty, praying that she was indeed doing the right thing for her family.
"Duty to family above all," his voice preached in her head. It was full of principle and good intentions. "A woman's duty is to home and family, and to continue the family traditions."
Katherine skimmed the sea of faces. Her aunts, her uncles, her cousins, and her grandparents were all gazing at her expectantly. They smiled, they cried, and they all adored her. They all counted on her. Somehow, their pride made it easier to continue that long walk towards her destiny.
Before she realized it, she was standing beside Mr. Bartholomew. With a slight flourish, he raised his arm and, blushing profusely, Katherine tentatively took it. He guided her to the altar and tenderly lifted her veil, smiling at her. There was no love in that smile, and Katherine could scarcely return it.
Everyone returned to his or her seats while the priest began the ceremony.
"We are here today in order to join these two in holy matrimony."
All Katherine could think about was her beloved, childhood friend, taken so early from her in life. His voice was in her mind as well, somehow even stronger and louder than her father's.
"You don't really want to marry this man, do you?" Jack asked, his voice plaintive. "He'll never make you happy, you know."
Katherine answered in her thoughts, "I have no choice, Jack. You're dead and I can't keep my promise. It was silly anyway! No one decides to marry when they're twelve years old!"
"Does that matter when love is in its purest form as it was with us?"
"Were we in love? I can't remember."
"Yes you can, Kate. Just say that you remember," Jack pleaded. "Please."
"And do you, Allan Bartholomew, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and..."
Katherine's eyes softened and a solitary tear glistened on her cheek.
"Yes, Jack, I loved you very much"
"...until death do you part?"
"I do." Mr. Bartholomew's baritone broke Katherine's trance.
The priest continued with those same words, only directed at Katherine. When the priest completed the question, the two most damning words fell from her lips like heavy stones.
"I do."
To Katherine, the rest of the ritual was a blur. She remembered that Mr. Bartholomew slipped something golden and burdensome onto her finger. Then the priest commanded, "I now pronounce you man and wife! You may kiss the bride," and icy, cadaver-like lips pressed onto her own.
"I knew it," a voice whispered, and then disappeared as people rose up to applaud the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Bartholomew.
~*~
Katherine sat alongside her husband at the reception, which turned out to be a grand jubilee for all her relatives. Her cousins kissed her on the cheek sweetly and her grandparents congratulated her warmly, but Katherine felt terribly unhappy. The ring on her finger weighed heavily on her heart.
Before the customary dance, she took her mother aside. "This was a mistake! I don't love him!"
"Don't be ridiculous," was her mother's cruel reply. "Love has nothing to do with it. The family's future is secure and that is all that matters."
"May I have this dance, my bride?" Mr. Bartholomew asked, suddenly appearing seemingly out of thin air. Her mother nearly pushed Katherine towards him.
Classical music blared from the orchestra as he guided her around the ballroom. The people around them smiled at the couple as if they were the most adorable pair ever to grace the dance floor.
"I don't love you," whispered Katherine. "This was a mistake, we can't be married."
"But we are," he hissed, plastering a fake smile to please the crowd. "Don't embarrass me. You're my wife now, so you'll have to get used to it, or you won't like me very much at all."
His threat echoed in her ears for the rest of the night.
~*~
It was close to midnight and the reception still was not finished. Katherine finally excused herself to the lady's room, but she snuck outside to the gardens to weep alone under the starry sky.
The marble bench she settled on was no comfort as her tears fell onto her wedding dress. The beautiful fabric was dull and gray in the dim light, like much of her life ever since Jack had died…
"You better go back inside, it's very chilly out here."
And there he was, sitting beside her, and he had not changed a day. His trousers were muddy and his shoes were filthy as if he had been playing in the garden again, but there was a clean innocence in his eyes.
Katherine begged Jack's apparition, "What am I to do? What am I to do?"
"Go to your family," he replied simply. "They're looking for you. This is a time to be with your family." He grinned boyishly. "Wipe away those tears, Kat, you look horrible for a bride."
"Why you!" But Katherine had to laugh. "You're just like Jack. My imagination has not failed me yet."
"It never did, Kat, it never did. Go on and be happy!"
Compelled to follow the ghost of her imagination's instructions, she wiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hand and stood up, not once looking back or saying goodbye. One did not say "goodbye" to imaginary friends, right?
When she returned to the reception hall, her mother came up to her. "Where have you been?"
"Mother, I..."
"Your husband left a few moments ago to search for you in the garden. Go fetch him."
Katherine dared not disobey her mother's orders. She returned back out into the cold night, the moon only a sliver in the sky overhead. The air was still, punctured only by crickets.
She walked the entire garden in less than a minute, but still could not find her husband. Then she walked towards the wooden pavilion where the band used to play and she noticed a tall, dark figure. Katherine recognized his tuxedo and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it was just Mr. Bartholomew.
He was standing with his back towards her, so Katherine carefully walked up behind him. Somehow, he seemed even taller and more imposing than when they were at the altar together. She reached out and tried to touch his shoulder. "Um... Allan?"
Suddenly, the electrical light in the pavilion flickered on, illuminating the two. Katherine rubbed her eyes to adjust to the light and then looked back up at Mr. Bartholomew…
She screamed loud enough for several of her chivalrous male cousins to come running.
For Mr. Bartholomew had a noose around his neck and a fallen chair at his feet. He had hung himself.
~*~
Katherine stayed with her mother for three more years until she finally married a poor blacksmith from town. Their wedding was small and quaint and perfect. Her mother watched the two lovers kiss at the altar with a bland expression, but neither Katherine nor her husband paid any attention to her. They were in love and that was all that mattered.
They named their first son Jack.
***The End***
Mary's Website
Comment on this story?
Comments on the story?
Home Page
Send E-Mail to: dhsully@gmail.com
Copyright © 2007 Donald H Sullivan. All Rights Reserved