Brigit's Flame August Week 2: Brilliance
I'm not real sure about this one, but it's short and sweet and answers the prompt!
i
Twilight settles on the evening with the color of bruises. Annie sits in the casement window of her upstairs bedroom, her head resting against the frame, looking out into the purple ashiness. The evening star glitters alone in the darkening sky, its faraway light so brilliant it can be seen even as daylight lingers. Annie loves the twilight, loves the way it catches at her, intensifying her feelings. She is reading Romeo and Juliet in her 9th grade English class and she begins to whisper, “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” as she traces her finger idly along the window screen. From the yard below she can hear the sound of her parents’ conversation, and the calling of neighborhood children still at play.
ii
It is unusually warm for March, the kind of day any bride would wish for. Everyone is saying so. The soft evening air touches Annie’s skin like a caress as she steps out of her parents’ car and walks along the path to the door of the church. She is wearing her mother’s wedding gown of old ivory satin, and is carrying miniature ivory roses in a bouquet of baby’s breath. Her mother lifts the train from the ground until they reach the vestibule and meet up with her bridesmaids. Instead of flowers they are each carrying a candle in a glass lamp, and flower-wrapped candles line the aisle to the altar, down which Annie will soon walk. Their glow casts brilliant points of light in the darkening church. As the music starts, Annie waits with her father as her mother is escorted to her seat, followed by the bridesmaids in procession. Her fingers lightly touch the engagement ring on her hand, the one she almost gave back. “I guess I can always just get a divorce,” she thinks. The music crescendos as she begins her walk down the aisle.
iii
It has been raining all day, grey and dingy; the kind of day that is a meant to be spent in bed, which is what Annie has done. Now she is standing at the living room window, watching her lover get into his car and leave. She always watches him go with a wrenching lonliness that takes days to dissipate, only made worthwhile by the delight of having him close and hers for awhile. He is heading home to his wife and children; it is almost time for her to pick up her kids from school. Her fingers trace along the window, recreating his parting touch along her cheek, evoking a brilliant flash of pain. Tears brim over and slide down Annie’s cheeks, matching the cadence of the rain outside. She turns to get her jacket from the closet, stepping over toys as she gets ready to go.
i
Twilight settles on the evening with the color of bruises. Annie sits in the casement window of her upstairs bedroom, her head resting against the frame, looking out into the purple ashiness. The evening star glitters alone in the darkening sky, its faraway light so brilliant it can be seen even as daylight lingers. Annie loves the twilight, loves the way it catches at her, intensifying her feelings. She is reading Romeo and Juliet in her 9th grade English class and she begins to whisper, “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” as she traces her finger idly along the window screen. From the yard below she can hear the sound of her parents’ conversation, and the calling of neighborhood children still at play.
ii
It is unusually warm for March, the kind of day any bride would wish for. Everyone is saying so. The soft evening air touches Annie’s skin like a caress as she steps out of her parents’ car and walks along the path to the door of the church. She is wearing her mother’s wedding gown of old ivory satin, and is carrying miniature ivory roses in a bouquet of baby’s breath. Her mother lifts the train from the ground until they reach the vestibule and meet up with her bridesmaids. Instead of flowers they are each carrying a candle in a glass lamp, and flower-wrapped candles line the aisle to the altar, down which Annie will soon walk. Their glow casts brilliant points of light in the darkening church. As the music starts, Annie waits with her father as her mother is escorted to her seat, followed by the bridesmaids in procession. Her fingers lightly touch the engagement ring on her hand, the one she almost gave back. “I guess I can always just get a divorce,” she thinks. The music crescendos as she begins her walk down the aisle.
iii
It has been raining all day, grey and dingy; the kind of day that is a meant to be spent in bed, which is what Annie has done. Now she is standing at the living room window, watching her lover get into his car and leave. She always watches him go with a wrenching lonliness that takes days to dissipate, only made worthwhile by the delight of having him close and hers for awhile. He is heading home to his wife and children; it is almost time for her to pick up her kids from school. Her fingers trace along the window, recreating his parting touch along her cheek, evoking a brilliant flash of pain. Tears brim over and slide down Annie’s cheeks, matching the cadence of the rain outside. She turns to get her jacket from the closet, stepping over toys as she gets ready to go.