By Archie D.

The guards gave me a piece of paper and charcoal today, for the purpose of writing I assume. No warning, no instructions, with some intended use that had perhaps failed to reach my secluded cell. Unsure of what to do with it, I set them down at the foot of my bunk, where they were left for some time. Then as I was lying, staring at the wonders of the concrete ceiling, a thought formulated in my head. At once I grabbed the paper and charcoal and began to write. Before the Vulture Eye, before my paranoia had reached its climax,  there was a time when guilt never followed me as closely as that heart. Nonetheless, I tell it now to the page, where only I can see it.

It was on a beautiful August afternoon at the terrace, under the shading oaks of the Wellingstrot’s manor — a massive expanse of well-kept grass, with evenly spaced trees forming a canopy of leaves that covered all but the farthest corners. Stone walls, only about a meter and a half tall, lined the edges, almost completely overwhelmed by ivy. On the far side, a small pond sat concealed from view, accessible only by a set of secluded steps. 

I had just arrived at a wedding, for which I had taken my rare day of leave to attend. It was for a friend named Henry, who was finally marrying after many years of strict abstinence from romantic intrigue. Henry being the oldest and dearest of the few friends I had, I decided to arrive early, not wanting to waste any time to socialize with him. He had been engaged for quite some time, and the ceremony had been postponed on multiple occasions for suspected immoral character on the part of the bride regarding some specific young men. But for reasons unbeknownst to me, he decided to remain loyal to this woman despite the rumors circling her name.

I felt that I could not praise nor scorn their match as I hadn’t actually met the bride. Apparently she was extremely wealthy, but I didn’t think that mattered much to Henry, who seemed to care more about intellect than money. I most likely would not have taken the time to witness the ceremony if I wasn’t previously intrigued by their shifting relationship and the hold she seemed to have over him. 

But I found myself here all the same. Not seeing the couple and not being in the mood to socialize, I sauntered towards the aft of the lawn. I found a secluded bench near the chapel surrounded by a small stand of budding dogwoods, where I remained for a while, eventually deciding to doze into a light nap. I was so deeply busied in a lovely dream that I failed to stir at the sound of horses. I was finally woken by the shaking of my shoulder and was greeted by a woman’s mirthful face.

“Elmon?” Hearing my name spoken like this indicated to me that I know or should know this person, but my mind was still so foggy from the sudden interruption of my slumber that I hadn’t the slightest idea who this lady might be. “I apologize for disturbing your rest. It is a pleasure to meet you after hearing much about you from Henry.” It was then that I noticed she was wearing a bridal gown and cursed myself for my stupidity. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Bailey.”

“Please, call me Elizabeth. I despise when people get such an uptight manner about remaining formal, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I agree with you greatly.” I paused. “Say, when is the ceremony starting?” 

“A quarter to five.” 

I checked my watch. Four forty. “Shall we walk together?”

“That would be pleasant.” We walked towards the chapel where I noticed Henry’s dilapidated wagon, the moth-eaten canopy hanging drearily over the wooden ribs. 

“How was the coach? I noticed that you decided not to rent.” 

“It was sufficient as a way of transportation, and nothing more. Henry had a strong opposition to what he called a ‘waste of money that only slightly increases the grandeur of our arrival.’ Renting the manor grounds for the reception was well enough for him. He was very specific about the location.“ I knew Henry cared not for money, but surely with Elizabeth’s extensive fortune to spend, he could have improved his circumstances a little, especially on his own wedding. But I kept my thoughts to myself and remained polite.

“He is a wise man.”

“Yes. After hearing from many of his associates, I can gather that I am a very lucky woman to be his bride.” In my mind, I could sense the smallest hint of insincerity.

”Speaking of Henry, where might the fellow be?” I had not seen Henry since I had awoken.

”I assume he is at the chapel already. I was just about to walk up and noticed you sleeping.”

“I’m glad you did, or else I would have missed the entire event.”

She laughed. “Henry wouldn’t stand for it. You are a very important man.”

Soon everyone had gathered in the pews, but the ceremony began so quickly after I arrived that I hadn’t the chance to converse with Henry. As I watched, I caught myself marveling at the sheer beauty of Elizabeth as she walked down the aisle, her billowing gown trimmed with a flowery white lace, giving the illusion of a goddess. Henry was standing at the podium, with the brightest smile a man could ever have adorning his lips. She stepped up to meet him, and the pastor began the exchange of agreements. As this happened, I could not help but think of how kind and friendly Elizabeth was to me, and wonder whether that was just her natural disposition or a flirtatious gesture. I recalled the reasons for the ceremony’s postponement. Even I, a loyal friend of the groom, had to suppress unwanted lust conjured by her presence. These thoughts unceasingly circled my brain as the ceremony continued and eventually ended. A joyous applause erupted from the other guests as the two kissed. However, I did not find myself joining the enthusiastic crowd. Instead, I remained in my chair, contemplating what I had let my friend fall into.

Stay tuned for Part II of I Hadn’t a Reason next week! 

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