Cyclical

Written by Orchid on August 30, 2013. Posted in Blog

We stood barefoot on his headstone, looking into each others eyes as the priest spoke. We were wed upon my father’s grave.  Some might consider such behavior to be excessively macabre.  Unfortunately for those individuals I have never cared much for the opinions of others.  Frost covered blades of grass clicked against one another in approval.  The fog had yet to lift, making it seem as though we were somewhere between the planes of existence.  The black lace of my dress rustled gently with the rise and fall of my breasts.  Our feet were absolutely numb against the hard finality of the marble but it was of little consequence considering the circumstances.

Almost as if the priest understood our intentions, he had not asked where our witness was.  He knew, as did we, my father would be present.  I felt him there beside me, a faint hint of warmth against my left arm.  The urge to turn and look over my shoulder was quite nearly impossible to fight against.  I could picture his smile, perhaps even a few tears making their way down the soft lines in his cheeks before burrowing into his beard.  But I knew if I tried to look he would not be visible.

Upon the closing of our private ceremony, my love and I embraced with a modest passion as the priest made his way back up the hill and out of sight.  When our lips parted once again I saw a large stag just beyond the tree line.  He craned his neck ever so slightly to one side and stared directly back into my eyes.  Salty tears escaped furiously and silently over the line of my lashes as I watched the stag slowly turn and disappear into the woods.

“Goodbye” I whispered.  “I love you.”

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Orchid

Painted Lady. Brass Acrobat. Aerialist. Snake Charmer. Jill-Of-All-Trades. Nerdery Enthusiast. Show-off. Writer. Photographer. Doodler. Cheese, all the cheese.

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