The wedding

Holding hands under the inky blue bejeweled canopy, they swore allegiance to each other. Bedecked in a brown shimmery, the translucent veil flowing away from her coy face, she looked up nervously at him. He replied with an imperceptible nod that spoke volumes of quiet reassurance.

Family and friends had gathered for the ceremony that would bind the two lovers for life. The atmosphere was electrifying and the air abuzz with each of them signaling to the other in a frenzy of activity. A huddle in here, a huddle there, some grouping for a light tete-a-tete, some to discuss an important ritual.

The younger lot broke away from the crowd, not entirely connecting with the significance of the gathering, their individual frames dotting the arena like lost stars.

At the precise moment that would signify the sacred union, the chief called for everyone's unwavering attention. The scattered swarm, even the ones that had strayed, converged obediently towards the altar. Each member of the audience held hands together, sending collective prayer heavenwards to bless the couple wedded into matrimony.

It was pure magic as the fireflies lit up, glowing like a hundred glorious suns, showering their wishes of hope and faith.

*****

Tried to portray a wedding scene in the life of fireflies, who are known to synchronize their signals.

A 200-word fiction written for the prompt "Suns and Lovers" at the BarAThon.

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When you left

When you shut the door on me and stomped out of our relationship, my heart didn't break. I thought we still had a chance because I believed dreams never die; eclipsed possibly, but alive.

I’d always associated our dream with the little green bridge. Remember, we once dreamed about building our own love nest across the bridge? I wanted to run after you and remind you of our dream.

Instead, I chose to visit the place that had seen our love for each other develop; one that had been forgotten in the melee of life. A lot had changed about the place, except for the bridge. Across the bridge, a wall stood, behind which was a beautiful house, like the one in our dreams.

My heart thought it was symbolic. Despite changes at many levels, the bridge-a symbol of our love- remained unchanged. However, there was a wall-of misunderstanding and ego- that blocked access to the love nest.  

My mind thought it to be rather ominous. The wall could well mean that I stop trying to gain access to the heart of the person who had moved on, albeit without burning the bridge.

Sigh! I wish you’d explained your departure.

Sunday Photo Prompt

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Word Count: 200

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Written for Sunday Photo Fiction

Every week on a Sunday, a new photo is used as a prompt for Flash Fiction challenge using around 200 words based on that image. Your story does not have to be exactly what the item in the photo is as long as there is at least a reference to it. You can make it anything you want, and enjoy what you write, and we will as well. 

Click to put up your own entry or read other entries here.

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