arsenal23
11-08-2009, 09:43 PM
I would be forever grateful if I got feedback on this story. Thanks!
Pinnacles of Life
Seven bells loudly resonating from the rooftop of the chapel called members of both the bride and groom’s family to witness the impending holy ceremony. The people flocked in, two-by-two, searching for empty space amongst apparent disorder in the church.
Once the congregation had been seated, anxiety built up in the chapel until the rear doors swung open, revealing the bride and her father. Tears trickled down the father’s face as he slowly walked his daughter down the aisle. When they had reached the altar, the father, wondering what could have been, defiantly refused to release her. Realizing that his daughter’s next life could prove rewarding, however, he reluctantly let her go.
Through all of the chaos, the congregation observed the bride in awe. “How peaceful and serene she looks!” the bride’s mother exclaimed with tears in her eyes. Others admired the intricacies of her dress. The white silk of her veil blended elegantly with the thousands of tiny immaculate beads which were dispersed throughout the fabric.
While the congregation continued gushing about the bride, the priest emerged from behind the altar.
Suddenly, the chapel became enveloped in silence while the congregation observed the minister. The light that streamed in through the stained glass windows accentuated the deep wrinkles in his forehead. His eyes, like those of an author consumed by his work, gave the impression of having endured many sleepless nights.
“Brothers and sisters,” the priest exclaimed, breaking the deafening silence as he ascended the pulpit, “what you are witnessing today is one of life’s most beautiful milestones. However, I am about to place this sacred event in a more somber context. I am about to tell you a tragedy; a tale of life and death, sickness and health, rejoicing and mourning. In my old age, memories frequently escape me in the most inopportune of times, but for the last six-odd days, this unfortunate tale has remained fixated in my mind, and will forever reside there. As I recall, it all began with a most holy matrimony and culminated in that very union being recklessly broken by an unholy tragedy.”
And as those words leapt forth from his mouth, the congregation became paralyzed by the subsequent recollection of the events.
_____________
“Till death do us part,” the couple exchanged in unison, staring affectionately into each other’s eyes.
By uttering those words, Helen and Phil became joined as one. But before uniting as one person, they had been two staunchly different individuals. Helen, a Harvard student majoring in psychology, would have lived a quiet, secluded life if her parents hadn’t coaxed her to marry. Phil, on the other hand, hadn’t gone to college—he gained more pleasure through the knowledge gained by active conversation with those around him.
“I can’t wait until our honeymoon,” Phil flirtatiously whispered to Helen as they drove home from the wedding.
“Yeah,” Helen dryly spoke, twirling her bright orange hair, “it should be fun. I’ve always wanted to visit Hawaii. I’d love to go sightseeing there.”
“Sightseeing?” Phil confusedly questioned. “What time is there going to be to sightsee when we’re together? The four walls of the hotel room are enough of a sight for me.”
“Oh. Okay, I suppose.”
On their first night together as a couple, Phil slowly approached the bedroom door, making sure to happily surprise his wife. He grabbed the doorknob, readying himself to swing open the door and leap into her arms. He tried to turn the knob, but the door appeared to have been locked.
“Helen, are you there honey?” he politely asked while fiddling with the knob.
“I’m thinking. I’d like to be left alone,” she replied.
“If you’d like,” he forlornly answered. Releasing the knob, he went back down the stairs and spent the night in silence on the couch.
The next day, the couple excitedly prepared to leave for their honeymoon. Phil had awoken early, and as Helen descended the stairs she caught an aroma of the bacon which he had prepared. After breakfast, just before the sun had risen, the couple began the short drive towards the airport.
“Do you think we’ll be late?” Helen nervously questioned as she observed the sea of cars which surrounded them.
Getting out of the car, Phil saw that the tunnel ahead was blocked by an accident. Returning to the driver’s seat, he maneuvered around the traffic and took a detour. But while he merged into the other lane, his shift knob became stuck. He frantically jerked the knob back and forth, but the car swerved into the tree to the side of the road.
Thrown from his seat, Phil lay on the floor surrounded by the glass which had scattered in all directions.
“Are you alright?” Helen worriedly asked.
“Why do you care?” Phil retorted, wiping the blood from his cheek.
“Let’s get home quickly,” Helen suggested, “so I can call a doctor to treat your injury,” with the knowledge that his mental state had deteriorated because of the impact. After helping her husband into the passenger’s seat, she leaped into the driver’s seat and began driving home.
“Aren’t you excited for our honeymoon?” Phil interrogated on the ride home, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“How can we go on a honeymoon with your mental state?” Helen emotionlessly replied.
Phil raised his hand and struck Helen across the face. “What do you mean by that? We can have our honeymoon in our own home.”
The second night of their marriage, Phil approached the door to the bedroom. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it refused to budge. “Helen?” he bellowed, looking down at the knife in his hand. He knocked violently on the door, but no one answered. Raising his elbow, he charged toward the door, busting the lock open.
Inside, Helen sat below the foot of the bed, intently reading the Bible. Phil rushed towards her, throwing the book aside. As he raised his knife, the bright light from above reflected on the blade, blinding his victim.
“Maybe next time, you’ll be more submissive to your husband,” he reprimanded. He swiped at her with his knife, but missed his mark and caught the red wallpaper to her right, tearing off a piece and revealing a gray mass underneath. Steadying his knife, he pierced her skin with the blade, thrusting it deeper with every stab. She screamed as blood flowed out of the wound, collecting on the floor in a crimson puddle. After almost seventy thrusts of his blade, Phil paused and grinned in satisfaction.
Helen cowered in the corner of the room, much like an injured mouse hiding from a snake seeking prey. Phil leaned over her, eclipsing the naked fluorescent bulb which hung from the ceiling.
“Any parting words?” he ominously questioned, gradually moving closer.
Sinking deeper into the crimson-stained darkness, Helen mustered all of her remaining strength and, fighting her tears, whispered “Maybe next time, I’ll live.”
_____________
Opening his eyes as if he had awoken from a deep sleep, the priest looked out across the sea of those in attendance. Many wept uncontrollably and resorted to torn pages from the Bible as depositories for their tears. Others stared, mouths agape in horror at the tragedy which was presented before them. In the rear of the chapel one man stood, his face distorted in confusion, struggling to comprehend the story he had just heard.
Glancing towards the bride, the priest paused and contemplated the unfortunate affair. Once the hysteria of the group had died down, he composed his thoughts and continued the sermon. “Brothers and sisters, as you have seen today, tangible life often takes an illusory form. It’s only in the hollows of death that we see life and in the pinnacles of life that we lay dying.”
Stepping down from the pulpit, he walked towards the altar where the bride patiently waited. The bride’s father, frozen alongside his daughter, watched as the priest slowly took six steps, each synchronized with the toll of the church bell. As he arrived, the father gave him a nod, somberly willing him to proceed with the ceremony.
Both solemnly stood over her, blocking out the light from the chapel chandelier which had exposed the paleness of her skin. The shadows which consumed the bride caused her formaldehyde-poisoned face to temporarily appear younger.
Bowing his head, the priest moved closer to her, further obscuring the last traces of light. The congregation, now deprived of their sight of the bride, fought to distinguish her tranquil figure through the two men at the front of the altar.
“Have pity…Thou, who hast freed her from the perils of this mortal life,” the priest began in prayer. He placed his hand on the casket, inching the cover downward as he concluded his petition to God.
Trying to muster words to speak, whether an imitative prayer or simply a farewell, the father closed his eyes in thought, displacing a tear which slowly fell onto the dress of his daughter and formed yet another immaculate bead. He grasped the silky fabric of his daughter’s veil and covered her face with it, lest she bear witness to the tragic nature of life again. Then, he opened his mouth, prepared to release the emotions which had tormented him for so long.
“Helen—,” he whispered.
But before he had a chance to give his parting words, the casket was sealed shut.
THE END
Pinnacles of Life
Seven bells loudly resonating from the rooftop of the chapel called members of both the bride and groom’s family to witness the impending holy ceremony. The people flocked in, two-by-two, searching for empty space amongst apparent disorder in the church.
Once the congregation had been seated, anxiety built up in the chapel until the rear doors swung open, revealing the bride and her father. Tears trickled down the father’s face as he slowly walked his daughter down the aisle. When they had reached the altar, the father, wondering what could have been, defiantly refused to release her. Realizing that his daughter’s next life could prove rewarding, however, he reluctantly let her go.
Through all of the chaos, the congregation observed the bride in awe. “How peaceful and serene she looks!” the bride’s mother exclaimed with tears in her eyes. Others admired the intricacies of her dress. The white silk of her veil blended elegantly with the thousands of tiny immaculate beads which were dispersed throughout the fabric.
While the congregation continued gushing about the bride, the priest emerged from behind the altar.
Suddenly, the chapel became enveloped in silence while the congregation observed the minister. The light that streamed in through the stained glass windows accentuated the deep wrinkles in his forehead. His eyes, like those of an author consumed by his work, gave the impression of having endured many sleepless nights.
“Brothers and sisters,” the priest exclaimed, breaking the deafening silence as he ascended the pulpit, “what you are witnessing today is one of life’s most beautiful milestones. However, I am about to place this sacred event in a more somber context. I am about to tell you a tragedy; a tale of life and death, sickness and health, rejoicing and mourning. In my old age, memories frequently escape me in the most inopportune of times, but for the last six-odd days, this unfortunate tale has remained fixated in my mind, and will forever reside there. As I recall, it all began with a most holy matrimony and culminated in that very union being recklessly broken by an unholy tragedy.”
And as those words leapt forth from his mouth, the congregation became paralyzed by the subsequent recollection of the events.
_____________
“Till death do us part,” the couple exchanged in unison, staring affectionately into each other’s eyes.
By uttering those words, Helen and Phil became joined as one. But before uniting as one person, they had been two staunchly different individuals. Helen, a Harvard student majoring in psychology, would have lived a quiet, secluded life if her parents hadn’t coaxed her to marry. Phil, on the other hand, hadn’t gone to college—he gained more pleasure through the knowledge gained by active conversation with those around him.
“I can’t wait until our honeymoon,” Phil flirtatiously whispered to Helen as they drove home from the wedding.
“Yeah,” Helen dryly spoke, twirling her bright orange hair, “it should be fun. I’ve always wanted to visit Hawaii. I’d love to go sightseeing there.”
“Sightseeing?” Phil confusedly questioned. “What time is there going to be to sightsee when we’re together? The four walls of the hotel room are enough of a sight for me.”
“Oh. Okay, I suppose.”
On their first night together as a couple, Phil slowly approached the bedroom door, making sure to happily surprise his wife. He grabbed the doorknob, readying himself to swing open the door and leap into her arms. He tried to turn the knob, but the door appeared to have been locked.
“Helen, are you there honey?” he politely asked while fiddling with the knob.
“I’m thinking. I’d like to be left alone,” she replied.
“If you’d like,” he forlornly answered. Releasing the knob, he went back down the stairs and spent the night in silence on the couch.
The next day, the couple excitedly prepared to leave for their honeymoon. Phil had awoken early, and as Helen descended the stairs she caught an aroma of the bacon which he had prepared. After breakfast, just before the sun had risen, the couple began the short drive towards the airport.
“Do you think we’ll be late?” Helen nervously questioned as she observed the sea of cars which surrounded them.
Getting out of the car, Phil saw that the tunnel ahead was blocked by an accident. Returning to the driver’s seat, he maneuvered around the traffic and took a detour. But while he merged into the other lane, his shift knob became stuck. He frantically jerked the knob back and forth, but the car swerved into the tree to the side of the road.
Thrown from his seat, Phil lay on the floor surrounded by the glass which had scattered in all directions.
“Are you alright?” Helen worriedly asked.
“Why do you care?” Phil retorted, wiping the blood from his cheek.
“Let’s get home quickly,” Helen suggested, “so I can call a doctor to treat your injury,” with the knowledge that his mental state had deteriorated because of the impact. After helping her husband into the passenger’s seat, she leaped into the driver’s seat and began driving home.
“Aren’t you excited for our honeymoon?” Phil interrogated on the ride home, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“How can we go on a honeymoon with your mental state?” Helen emotionlessly replied.
Phil raised his hand and struck Helen across the face. “What do you mean by that? We can have our honeymoon in our own home.”
The second night of their marriage, Phil approached the door to the bedroom. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it refused to budge. “Helen?” he bellowed, looking down at the knife in his hand. He knocked violently on the door, but no one answered. Raising his elbow, he charged toward the door, busting the lock open.
Inside, Helen sat below the foot of the bed, intently reading the Bible. Phil rushed towards her, throwing the book aside. As he raised his knife, the bright light from above reflected on the blade, blinding his victim.
“Maybe next time, you’ll be more submissive to your husband,” he reprimanded. He swiped at her with his knife, but missed his mark and caught the red wallpaper to her right, tearing off a piece and revealing a gray mass underneath. Steadying his knife, he pierced her skin with the blade, thrusting it deeper with every stab. She screamed as blood flowed out of the wound, collecting on the floor in a crimson puddle. After almost seventy thrusts of his blade, Phil paused and grinned in satisfaction.
Helen cowered in the corner of the room, much like an injured mouse hiding from a snake seeking prey. Phil leaned over her, eclipsing the naked fluorescent bulb which hung from the ceiling.
“Any parting words?” he ominously questioned, gradually moving closer.
Sinking deeper into the crimson-stained darkness, Helen mustered all of her remaining strength and, fighting her tears, whispered “Maybe next time, I’ll live.”
_____________
Opening his eyes as if he had awoken from a deep sleep, the priest looked out across the sea of those in attendance. Many wept uncontrollably and resorted to torn pages from the Bible as depositories for their tears. Others stared, mouths agape in horror at the tragedy which was presented before them. In the rear of the chapel one man stood, his face distorted in confusion, struggling to comprehend the story he had just heard.
Glancing towards the bride, the priest paused and contemplated the unfortunate affair. Once the hysteria of the group had died down, he composed his thoughts and continued the sermon. “Brothers and sisters, as you have seen today, tangible life often takes an illusory form. It’s only in the hollows of death that we see life and in the pinnacles of life that we lay dying.”
Stepping down from the pulpit, he walked towards the altar where the bride patiently waited. The bride’s father, frozen alongside his daughter, watched as the priest slowly took six steps, each synchronized with the toll of the church bell. As he arrived, the father gave him a nod, somberly willing him to proceed with the ceremony.
Both solemnly stood over her, blocking out the light from the chapel chandelier which had exposed the paleness of her skin. The shadows which consumed the bride caused her formaldehyde-poisoned face to temporarily appear younger.
Bowing his head, the priest moved closer to her, further obscuring the last traces of light. The congregation, now deprived of their sight of the bride, fought to distinguish her tranquil figure through the two men at the front of the altar.
“Have pity…Thou, who hast freed her from the perils of this mortal life,” the priest began in prayer. He placed his hand on the casket, inching the cover downward as he concluded his petition to God.
Trying to muster words to speak, whether an imitative prayer or simply a farewell, the father closed his eyes in thought, displacing a tear which slowly fell onto the dress of his daughter and formed yet another immaculate bead. He grasped the silky fabric of his daughter’s veil and covered her face with it, lest she bear witness to the tragic nature of life again. Then, he opened his mouth, prepared to release the emotions which had tormented him for so long.
“Helen—,” he whispered.
But before he had a chance to give his parting words, the casket was sealed shut.
THE END