A collection of short stories in which the root of their love is simultaneously the harbinger of their demise. Because the risque of the heart's desires is often found embedded in the knife jutting through it.
"...you're writing style is top-notch...
With not the slightest idea of what to do with his hands, James Parker shoved them into his pockets. He hadn't really come to terms with his current situation. When he'd first heard about it four months prior, he could ignore it, but now it was happening and he was dumbfounded at the reality of it all. It was hard to overlook now. For one, he was in a rental tux, cuff-links and all, and his un-groomed, bushy beard was gone, an urgent wish from his daughter.
The hallway was all exquisite limestone walls, marble floors and stained glass windows. A faraway piano could be heard stringing along familiar melodies with ease. James blew out his cheeks and told himself to relax, finding solace on one of the church's pillars. His eyes found, in search for a distraction, one of his daughter's paintings strung high at the end of the corridor, near the entrance. It was a wistful spray of lavender flowers fore-fronting a white background. In the flowers themselves, one could make out an elegant woman eyeing a sharp gentleman on the opposite side of the bouquet; both striding to the other. It was bigger and more detailed than anything James had ever drawn.
"Told you he could pull it off."
James spun, catching an eyeful of the large, spiralling staircase and his beautiful daughter descending it. "What?" he muttered. The white fabric hugged and exploded from Hannah's body. The dress was like an intricate language, profound and expressive in all aspects, accents lacing it like a finishing a bow. If James hadn't accepted it before, he had to now; his little beauty was a woman. And that woman was getting married.
"Grandpa," she clarified. "You said he couldn't play the piano anymore," she said matter-of-a-factly. It was odd how even in that dress, she was still Hannah.
James Parker smiled. "I was wrong."
Hannah reached the foot of the staircase now, adjusting her bound up black hair. "Damn right, old man," she teased.
"Old man? Could've sworn this thing," he lightly touched the soft area where his beard used to be and thought for a second, "chopped off twenty years at least." James said.
Hannah giggled. "My apologies. You look very handsome." She pecked his cheek quickly.
James Parker held out his hand for his daughter to hold. "Damn right," he said.
She took it as soon as the piano crescendo-ed and their cue grew closer. "Robert really went all out with the church, huh?" James said. He guessed it was all in the perks of marrying a doctor.
"You know how he is," Hannah said casually, but the pride and excitement were clear. In the same way when someone lies with a straight face but you can still tell they're undoubtedly lying.
"Do you like it?" she asked, motioning to the flower painting. "I saw you looking at it earlier."
"It's beautiful," James Parker appraised in a voice only James Parker could make when talking about art.
"Take it," Hannah said simply.
With the growing music, they were making their way down the corridor to the door blocking off the main room of the church where everyone was undoubtedly seated and waiting for them. "You can sell that piece for a lot," he told her.
"I know." Hannah pulled the veil over her face and waited for their cue. She didn't care, and James Parker only smiled. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd got to this point, or how his parenting skills begot the powerful woman beside him but he made sure to stamp it all in his memory. His shaky fingers, the complex church, her beautiful dress, it all created one beautiful moment.
Author's Note
Thank you guys so much for reading! I can't believe this is the final story!
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