Flash! Friday #19

Here's my entry for this week's picture prompt. It's a rather dark tale so won't be entering it into the bridal shower; I'll leave that one for a much happier story of celebration. This story asks the question . . . .how far would you go for the perfect wedding? xx

A Perfect Wedding 

Angelina looked at the photo. It didn't look like she was running for her life but it was the best she could do with high heels sinking into sodden grass. She knew this was the last picture taken and if the photographer had survived, he would have captured her scrambling from her shoes to run faster from the slaughter and screams. She remembered how the wet grass felt cold against her feet as she sped into the nearby woods, wishing she had her shoes to protect her soft flesh from the rough forest floor.

Her dress caught on the protruding branches, snagging and tearing, scratching. But Angelina didn't stop running. Not until there was no screaming. No sound of crunching. No sound of snarling. Not until a safe distance was between her and the carnage did she slump at the foot of a moss covered trunk.

Chastising herself first, Angelina couldn’t believe she had been talked into having her wedding in such a public place, like everything was normal and perfect. It wasn’t. Not in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. And now everyone was dead.  She gasped. Not everyone was dead; Julian, her fiancé who hadn't showed. He was somewhere. The thought he had survived warmed her chilled bones. She needed to get to him, even though he hadn't turned up on his wedding day to marry her. The anger soon dispersed when the attack happened as she fled for her life but now it was creeping back. Thoughts of him abandoning her on their wedding day filled her with rage as she slipped into a restless sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep but now the forest was pitch and she was stiff with cold and her mouth dry with thirst. A snapping twig told her she wasn’t alone but Angelina couldn’t see anything; all she could do was stay still and hope they couldn’t smell her. A voice whispered her name.

“Julian” Angelina whispered, not recognising her own hoarse voice.

“Angelina!” Julian ran towards her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, silent, in each other’s arms for what seemed a long time before Julian helped her up off the floor.

“You were going to marry me?” Angelina noticed Julian was wearing his wedding suit.

“Of course. I’m just relieved you got out of there.”

“You drummed in to me what to do if there was an attack. You said to get outside as soon as possible and run. I did.”

“Good girl. And now you get to have the perfect wedding you want with no interference from anyone.” His words hung in the air and Angelina knew their families hadn't made it. A conversation she had dismissed flooded her mind; Julian moaning about losing control of their wedding and questioning how far people would go to have the perfect wedding? “I’d do anything for you baby.”

The photo lay crumpled on the floor with her wedding ring.

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Apologies for the dark tale; that's what I got from the picture and humour has failed me this week. For other tales that (hopefully) celebrate marriage please go to http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/ hosted by Rebekah Postupak. xxx