Wedding Picture...

So I checked out this book on writing. I'm thinking it's going to tell me how to be a great writer or something. Or it would be stories of how writers craft best sellers. What I didn't know is that by opening the book I had just given myself homework. After some moaning and groaning and an argument with my beau, Ms. P, I finally got to it. So basically the exercise was to look at a wedding picture, your own, your parents or a random couple and write a one-page fiction based on the image. So I guess this is my second attempt at fiction.

Honestly, I want people to read and give feedback. If you are a follower of this blog and you think you probably won't read the short story-type blog entries, let me know and I'll banish them from the blog and stick to spontaneous rants, comments on current events, how people suck and life in general and of course, Randomness. So check it out.


Wedding Picture

My mother smiled not because she had to but because the feeling overwhelmed her. It brought a wide smile that she didn’t even expect. It made it hard to even think about yesterday except for that tomorrow offered an opportunity for the beginning of an endless happiness that washed away every argument, every emotion that forced mistrust, every question of the possibility of failure. After this day, he would stand next to her just like this, with a smile as genuine as hers for as long as her imagination would allow her to see ahead.
Her ivory dress only revealed that she was slender but hides the long legs that first garnered his attention and the curves that drew everyone else’s. She was a golden shade of brown with thick jet black hair as soft as a cloud. It fell in giant curls and defied its true length. Her mouth was shaped in such a way that allowed for the kind of smile you’d see on a child with an orange slice in her mouth. A slight overbite was an imperfection that made her more approachable, more attainable.
Her body folded slightly inward. It showed a shyness that said she didn’t think she was as beautiful as everyone else did. Not even as much as he did when first saw her. And even today he’d look at her – years after she made him nervous – and be proud that she would stand by him. He was taller, about 6’3 and lean like a distance runner. His thick beard and mustache covered his tan skin and made him tougher than the pretty boy he looked like with a clean face. He should confidently, leaning toward her. His afro reflected the time. His aura said that he thought he was cool and that everyone else knew he was cool.
They held up drinks near the waist. They wouldn’t drink them but they wanted to celebrate. The drinks would no doubt come later. Her eyes drifted beyond the crowd out to a family member toasting them good wishes. The crowd watches them. They wait for them to crack. They wait to see if joy forms tears. They wait to see if tears form from shear fright. Her best friend stands behind her. Not paying attention to the moment. She can get the story later. She’s looking off to see what happens next. It’s her job to make sure the night goes without incident. She’s worried because she worries about everything. But everything so far tonight as gone off seamlessly. And this moment is perfect.
This moment they look perfect together. At that moment, that was all that mattered.