colleenma
06-21-2012, 11:13 PM
I've only worked on it for a couple days but it's been taking me a really long time and is difficult to see where I'm taking the plot. Let me know what you think of it please :)
Strands upon strands of gold lights encompassed the interior of the church. The individual bulbs projected small, glowing circles on the ivory walls. Kelly Capello, swallowed in layers of her equally white wedding dress, peered out from the dressing room. Like the light bulbs, her face was glowing, but becoming increasingly warmer – an indication that tears were imminent.
The altar was flawlessly constructed and enhanced with mauve roses, complementing the tableware of each of the 70 guest tables. But all the fastidious details were indistinguishable to the bride. Her eyes, thinly coated with tears, blended all the features of her wedding into a swirl of colors as chaotic as her emotions. She abstained from blinking as long as she could in an effort to deny the symbol of her devastating reality. But her eyelids succumbed to her despair, and soon, her apprehension escaped her in the form of tears.
They relieved her of anxiety, but failed to diminish her resentment of the impending burden of codependence. Her lifeless eyes snapped shut, and the world around her dropped dead. The deceivingly cheerful images of her upcoming wedding were blocked.
“Kelly!” Her sister Karen barged into the dressing room, bringing Kelly back to reality. “Less than an hour until you’re Mrs. Gerald Herrera! How’s it feel?”
“When you refer to me as ‘Mrs. Gerald Herrera’, it feels like I’m his pet.”
“Oh, stop it with that feminist ****. You’re lucky to have found a man who can even tolerate you.”
Her ideas of feminism were incredible to her conservative family. She was most often met with ridicule, and on a good day, indifference. Admiration was implausible
“Yes, because it’s so ridiculous to believe men and women are equal,” Kelly replied sarcastically.
“Maybe not, but don’t act like you’re Miss Independent. Where would you be without Gerald?”
“In a happier ****ing world.”
Despite the advantages feminism provided the Capello family with – a second income, birth control, stability – they objected to advancing the movement. More specifically, they believed rejection of sexist traditions threatened their faith.
Karen stormed out of the room and reappeared, armed with a bible.
“The bible says ‘the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God’. How can you call yourself a Christian when you blatantly reject the truths of the bible?”
Kelly snatched the bible out of her sister’s hands and flipped rapidly through bookmarked pages.
“Here! ‘Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ.’ You’re going to justify the subordination of women with a text that commends slavery?”
“So you’re saying you don’t trust the word of God?”
“God, if one exists,” Kelly began carefully, “is not a misogynist or any other kind of bigot. Humans wrote the bible. Human are infallible. And through centuries of varying interpretations, there is absolutely no guarantee that the bible wasn’t manipulated to reflect the views of the transcriber. I’m not inferior, and I know that because I’ve had 25 years of experience as a woman. How sad for you that you think so.”
“Yeah, well, no matter what you say, you’re getting married to a man who does abide by
traditional Christianity. So have fun being a housewife, *****.” Karen, shaking, left the room on the brink of tears. She was not usually the malicious type. But threats to her faith rendered her defensive beyond her control, resulting in unwarranted insults.
Intense arguments between the sisters were not uncommon. They bumped heads incessantly over their beliefs, but their similarities bonded them so greatly that disengagement from each other was an inconceivable alternative. Lately, though, their arguments did not end with reconciliation. Having their convictions challenged distressed them equally, and neither could overcome their pride to understand the other viewpoint. Like most humans, they perceived those with different beliefs as inexplicable enigmas.
Religion was a great solace to Karen. Under her own husband’s thumb and jobless, her otherwise hollow life would lack purpose if it weren’t for her dedication to the Church. She could not admit this to Kelly. And Kelly, because she was unaware of that insecurity, could not avoid the insensitivity in many of her arguments. This often caused Karen to become what her sister saw as overly emotional, discrediting her arguments. Irreconcilable differences were augmented this way.
But they were equally proficient analytical thinkers. Distressed, Karen approached her own pious father.
“Dad, this may be a bad time,” she began, “but I’m troubled by Kelly’s isolation from our religion. Worse, I feel like she has a negative influence on my own convictions.”
“What specifically is she struggling with?”
“You know, typical Kelly stuff. Gender stuff. She feels the laws of gender inequity in the bible are discredited because of the more obsolete passages. She used the slavery one as an example.”
“Use your common sense. Slavery was the nature of the times. Family values are still applicable today.”
“Dad, I don’t want to offend you, but that sounds almost…convenient. I mean, maybe she has a point. We’ve progressed in our society enough to recognize that slavery is wrong. And even though people in older times didn’t think so, it didn’t mean that slavery was moral back then. Slavery was just as immoral back then as it is today. Their ignorance doesn’t justify anything. How do we know that gender inequity won’t be considered outlandish in the more progressive future?”
“You sound just like your sister. Don’t overanalyze things. We follow the word of God in this family, end of story. Trust in your savior, Karen. He died for you.”
Statements like that always triggered Karen’s regret. Who was she to have even questioned the bible? The persistent influence of Christianity created covert, distinctive standards of argumentative thinking. If an argument did not coincide with the teachings of bible, it was invalid regardless of logical soundness. This created more than a barrier to a greater understanding of society. It created grey areas in which she, as a woman, was not allowed to trust her own judgment, but could not ask authorities in fear of disapproval. Paradoxes exhausted her and discouraged her from seeking more answers.
“Okay, I understand. Thanks dad,” she lied.
Back in the dressing room, Kelly was experiencing and identity crisis of her own. It offended her that she was to sacrifice her identity and aspirations for the security of marriage. Self-reliance was certainly not a financially promising alternative, but it would not assume her contrastingly priceless individuality.
She approached a mirror, unable to recognize the woman staring back. The fervent psyche of her youth was as deficient as her smile, her vacant countenance amplified by seemingly dead eyes. When did I get under his thumb, she thought.
She closed her eyes again, but this time, the world around her remained. She had lost the power to influence her own situation. Her life had taken an interminable turn for the worse.
Years earlier, marriage would not have satisfied Kelly. Her desire for knowledge could barley be fulfilled by all the hours she spent in the college library. Several nights a week, she immersed herself in progressive literature concerning feminism, civil rights, and similar imminent societal movements. The recurring themes influenced her contrastingly liberal approach to political issues during the 1950’s. Her favorability to modifications of societal standards greatly surpassed that of the average citizens, rendering her a social pariah.
Strands upon strands of gold lights encompassed the interior of the church. The individual bulbs projected small, glowing circles on the ivory walls. Kelly Capello, swallowed in layers of her equally white wedding dress, peered out from the dressing room. Like the light bulbs, her face was glowing, but becoming increasingly warmer – an indication that tears were imminent.
The altar was flawlessly constructed and enhanced with mauve roses, complementing the tableware of each of the 70 guest tables. But all the fastidious details were indistinguishable to the bride. Her eyes, thinly coated with tears, blended all the features of her wedding into a swirl of colors as chaotic as her emotions. She abstained from blinking as long as she could in an effort to deny the symbol of her devastating reality. But her eyelids succumbed to her despair, and soon, her apprehension escaped her in the form of tears.
They relieved her of anxiety, but failed to diminish her resentment of the impending burden of codependence. Her lifeless eyes snapped shut, and the world around her dropped dead. The deceivingly cheerful images of her upcoming wedding were blocked.
“Kelly!” Her sister Karen barged into the dressing room, bringing Kelly back to reality. “Less than an hour until you’re Mrs. Gerald Herrera! How’s it feel?”
“When you refer to me as ‘Mrs. Gerald Herrera’, it feels like I’m his pet.”
“Oh, stop it with that feminist ****. You’re lucky to have found a man who can even tolerate you.”
Her ideas of feminism were incredible to her conservative family. She was most often met with ridicule, and on a good day, indifference. Admiration was implausible
“Yes, because it’s so ridiculous to believe men and women are equal,” Kelly replied sarcastically.
“Maybe not, but don’t act like you’re Miss Independent. Where would you be without Gerald?”
“In a happier ****ing world.”
Despite the advantages feminism provided the Capello family with – a second income, birth control, stability – they objected to advancing the movement. More specifically, they believed rejection of sexist traditions threatened their faith.
Karen stormed out of the room and reappeared, armed with a bible.
“The bible says ‘the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God’. How can you call yourself a Christian when you blatantly reject the truths of the bible?”
Kelly snatched the bible out of her sister’s hands and flipped rapidly through bookmarked pages.
“Here! ‘Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ.’ You’re going to justify the subordination of women with a text that commends slavery?”
“So you’re saying you don’t trust the word of God?”
“God, if one exists,” Kelly began carefully, “is not a misogynist or any other kind of bigot. Humans wrote the bible. Human are infallible. And through centuries of varying interpretations, there is absolutely no guarantee that the bible wasn’t manipulated to reflect the views of the transcriber. I’m not inferior, and I know that because I’ve had 25 years of experience as a woman. How sad for you that you think so.”
“Yeah, well, no matter what you say, you’re getting married to a man who does abide by
traditional Christianity. So have fun being a housewife, *****.” Karen, shaking, left the room on the brink of tears. She was not usually the malicious type. But threats to her faith rendered her defensive beyond her control, resulting in unwarranted insults.
Intense arguments between the sisters were not uncommon. They bumped heads incessantly over their beliefs, but their similarities bonded them so greatly that disengagement from each other was an inconceivable alternative. Lately, though, their arguments did not end with reconciliation. Having their convictions challenged distressed them equally, and neither could overcome their pride to understand the other viewpoint. Like most humans, they perceived those with different beliefs as inexplicable enigmas.
Religion was a great solace to Karen. Under her own husband’s thumb and jobless, her otherwise hollow life would lack purpose if it weren’t for her dedication to the Church. She could not admit this to Kelly. And Kelly, because she was unaware of that insecurity, could not avoid the insensitivity in many of her arguments. This often caused Karen to become what her sister saw as overly emotional, discrediting her arguments. Irreconcilable differences were augmented this way.
But they were equally proficient analytical thinkers. Distressed, Karen approached her own pious father.
“Dad, this may be a bad time,” she began, “but I’m troubled by Kelly’s isolation from our religion. Worse, I feel like she has a negative influence on my own convictions.”
“What specifically is she struggling with?”
“You know, typical Kelly stuff. Gender stuff. She feels the laws of gender inequity in the bible are discredited because of the more obsolete passages. She used the slavery one as an example.”
“Use your common sense. Slavery was the nature of the times. Family values are still applicable today.”
“Dad, I don’t want to offend you, but that sounds almost…convenient. I mean, maybe she has a point. We’ve progressed in our society enough to recognize that slavery is wrong. And even though people in older times didn’t think so, it didn’t mean that slavery was moral back then. Slavery was just as immoral back then as it is today. Their ignorance doesn’t justify anything. How do we know that gender inequity won’t be considered outlandish in the more progressive future?”
“You sound just like your sister. Don’t overanalyze things. We follow the word of God in this family, end of story. Trust in your savior, Karen. He died for you.”
Statements like that always triggered Karen’s regret. Who was she to have even questioned the bible? The persistent influence of Christianity created covert, distinctive standards of argumentative thinking. If an argument did not coincide with the teachings of bible, it was invalid regardless of logical soundness. This created more than a barrier to a greater understanding of society. It created grey areas in which she, as a woman, was not allowed to trust her own judgment, but could not ask authorities in fear of disapproval. Paradoxes exhausted her and discouraged her from seeking more answers.
“Okay, I understand. Thanks dad,” she lied.
Back in the dressing room, Kelly was experiencing and identity crisis of her own. It offended her that she was to sacrifice her identity and aspirations for the security of marriage. Self-reliance was certainly not a financially promising alternative, but it would not assume her contrastingly priceless individuality.
She approached a mirror, unable to recognize the woman staring back. The fervent psyche of her youth was as deficient as her smile, her vacant countenance amplified by seemingly dead eyes. When did I get under his thumb, she thought.
She closed her eyes again, but this time, the world around her remained. She had lost the power to influence her own situation. Her life had taken an interminable turn for the worse.
Years earlier, marriage would not have satisfied Kelly. Her desire for knowledge could barley be fulfilled by all the hours she spent in the college library. Several nights a week, she immersed herself in progressive literature concerning feminism, civil rights, and similar imminent societal movements. The recurring themes influenced her contrastingly liberal approach to political issues during the 1950’s. Her favorability to modifications of societal standards greatly surpassed that of the average citizens, rendering her a social pariah.