Stop That Wedding

The love of your life is getting married to someone else. In a last-ditch attempt to win the love of your life back, you bust into the wedding and profess your love mid-ceremony. Start your story with the line, “Don’t say yes!”

Post your response (500 words or less) in the comments below.

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2 thoughts on “Stop That Wedding

  1. Evening

    Want to listen my story? I’ getting married this year and my husband bought the one-time ball gown wedding dresses under 100 online, which name is I never heard of this website. So i do not think my husband love me. He even bought my bridal wear online and which name is never heard! Do you think so?

  2. kathleenmagner

    The rappelling line dropped off the cliff top as Father Potter closed his bible and cradled the black book at the waist of his Bermuda shorts. At the sight of braided rope, Jane felt the burn in her cheeks bunched between a smile and stifling joyous tears suddenly fade.

    Lewis squeezed her hands and drew her to his blue eyes. The waterfall’s pool glittered in his gaze’s depths along with a surge of worry and silent question. Shrugging beneath her gown’s thin straps, Jane peered with him at the descending figure.

    Oblivious, Father Potter plowed on. “Do you—”

    “WAIT!” The reedy figure plunged down the cliff like a shard the Park Service had warned might tumble. “You can’t say yes, Marjorie!”

    He landed with a wobble on the speckled lava rocks. When he started lumbering through the water, aimed for their gathering, the rappelling line still pinned to his harness, Jane pivoted behind Lewis, but his broad back failed to intercept the reedy man.

    “Marjorie, you must listen. You can’t marry him.”

    Beneath his desperation, the reedy man’s features tugged on a memory of convention halls and signings, and Jane brought a hand to her glossy lips. “Oh my God.”

    Lewis tipped his chin over his shoulder without looking away from the man now fighting to disengage his carabineer. “Do you know this guy?”

    Bringing her hand down, Jane clasped her bouquet. “I think it’s Calvin Watts.”

    Lewis scowled. “From the fan club?”

    “From Marjorie’s fan club.” Jane tightened her grip around the ribbon-wrapped handle.

    “How did he find you here?”

    “I have no idea.”

    Meanwhile, Calvin flung the lines aside and commenced wading forward.

    From the rows of occupied chairs arranged around the pool, Jane noted Gretchen hustling forward, her agitated Agent face set, the ruffles of her sea green mumu fluttering.

    At the trailhead, where any sane paparazzi or errant well-wisher might have attempted to sneak in, the pair of bulky security guards in matching aloha shirts activated. Bulldozer clenched his fists, while Raid swung his arms, warming up for a throw down. They trudged through the shallow pool, intercepting Calvin by a jut of worn stone.

    “You can’t do this, Marjorie. He’s a cheater!”

    Raid snorted and seized Calvin’s arm. “This way, sir.”

    Calvin struggled as Bulldozer took the other, the buckles of rappelling gear clattering. Together the security guards hefted the smaller man with a minor flex of biceps. Calvin’s feet splashed in a futile attempt to escape, his eyes wide and pleading.

    “Please Marjorie.”

    “Let him go, guys.” Jane slipped by Lewis, a touch lowering his halting hand. She stepped daintily from the island and into the crisp water.

    Gretchen hovered at the shore, hands on her hips. “Jane!”

    “It’s okay.” Jane waved off Bulldozer and Raid. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

    Calvin nodded, his neck elastic. “Never, never ever.”

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