The Wedding Night
Her knee slammed into the night table as she struggled to sit up. Outside, fog horns
bellowed like beasts in search of their mates, while her bare foot brushed against the empty
bottle of Jose Cuervo that had transported her from her own.
Her gaze fell upon the discarded heap of white satin. A swell of panic encased her in its grip: The pounding of the church organ, the suffocating scent of a thousand gardenias, the eyes—so many eyes—bearing down upon her every step.
From behind, she felt him stir, his arm slowly encircle her—like a noose.
Photo credit: swirlingthoughts
What inspired you to write this piece?
Wow – the images and the story-after-the-story they illicit — perfect and tragic.
Such a powerful feeling with so few words.
Thank you, Renee.
This is brilliant, Jayne! It’s everything flash fiction needs to be. Bravo!
And your response means everything to me. Thank you so much, Guilie.
A powerful moment captured. Sublime stuff, Jayne!
Thank you, Jonathan.
Jayne-you knocked another out of the park. Congrats.
Thanks so much, Paul.