Hey everyone! Here's my contribution to the Dark Fairy Queen Writerly Bridal Shower.
Title: And Vows
Author: J. Birch
ebook: Yes
“This is madness.”
Ella crumpled the page. Then she flattened it out. Then
she read it again. “Madness.” She ripped
it into strips and tossed it into the air. It landed in her hair and in her lap
and snuck down the back of her blouse. It itched.
She opened her window and stared at the oak on her
front lawn. Her fingernails tapped the windowsill. A robin chirped.
“Shh.”
She spun around in her chair, stood, and stepped
away from the typewriter, note pads, and pencils. On the dresser, Billie Holiday
sang Glad to be Unhappy from her portable radio.
“Shh.”
Billie sang.
“I put a man on Mars,” Ella said, tugging the hem of
her blouse. She felt the strip tumble out. “I put a woman on Venus. I sent
Stitch and Drake to Nebulous Prime to fight the Comet Lords. But I just, can’t…”
She marched over to her bookcase and pulled A
Stitch in Time Saves Nine Planets by E.A. Smith off the shelf.
Opening the book, she said, “343 pages of words.”
She tossed the book onto her bed. She pulled out The Nero of Neptune and said, “238 pages of good, strong, words.”
She tossed it. The book struck the bed and bounced. “For crying out loud, I’ve
been published in Amazing Stories, Weird Tales, Galaxy, and Future!”
A breeze disturbed the sheets of blank paper on her
desk. She returned to her chair and grabbed a pencil.
Outside, the robin
chirped.
She threw the pencil at it and then grabbed another.
At the top of the page she wrote the words future
and Sam. “Bother.” She tapped the
pencil on the page.
She wasn’t good at near future. She was good at far
future: jammed airlocks on a super intelligent space station, gaseous beings on
Pluto, slime monsters in the sewers of a post-apocalyptic Manhattan. Not
churches crammed with people in tuxes and dresses—
“And white gowns.” She slumped. “And vows.”
A crisp black and white photo of Sam stood beside her
typewriter. She lifted it. “And handsome grooms in black.”
She set the picture down. She tapped the pencil on
her chin. “From the day we first met … no.
I knew we would be … no.”
It must be perfect
and special and cause those brown
eyes to widen and those lips to smile and it must make him proud. “I vow to
love no no no!
The pencil flew out the window. It clattered on the
sidewalk.
Ella leaned on her elbows and propped up her chin.
She shut her eyes. On the radio, Miles Davis felt Blue in Green.
How did she feel about Sam? How did she feel. She opened her eyes and looked at
his picture. He was tall and handsome and loved to dance and whispered in her
ear when they danced. He read Jules Verne and D.C. Fontana. She loved him, of
course. She saw babies in-between deadlines.
And in five days, she’d see him at the church with her
white gown and his priest. And a congregation.
And blasted vows.
She plucked another pencil.
“I vow…”
She touched the pencil to the page.
“I want to…”
The pencil started looking aerodynamic.
“You…”
She paused at the word you. She swallowed her lower lip.
And then she had it. She had it!
*
* *
The church was full. Sam stood before her in his
black tux. She stood before him in her white gown. He held her hands, saying,
“From the day we first met, I knew we would be together. I knew I wanted to be with
you for the rest of my life.” He paused. “My dear bride; I vow to love you now.
I vow to love you forever.”
Father Maxwell nodded. The congregation nodded. Ella’s
mother and Sam’s mother started bawling in unison.
“And Ella?” Father Maxwell said. “Your vows?”
Ella nodded and breathed. She resisted the urge to
swallow her lip. Pews creaked as the congregation leaned forward to listen.
“Sam,” she said, gazing into his eyes. She
squeezed his hands. She smiled. “You will always give me writer’s block.”
