"Wedding Plans" drabbles by Drew Martyn

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The Wedding Day

Wedding Plans #4

The wedding morning dawned bright and lovely. I'd spent the night in the local hostelry and had a small breakfast before dressing. I'd planned to walk to the church, but on impulse I paid the hostelry's coachman to drive me swiftly back to London. There I made a few hurried arrangements and boarded a steamer for Europe.
Looking back I sometimes wonder what became of her. And I often wonder what dream she'd had, and if it really would have upset me. But mostly I wonder if Satis House remains as formal and beautiful as Miss Havisham will always be.

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Young, Rich And Beautiful

Wedding Plans #3

It wasn't her, it was me.
She loved me, I was sure. Well, as sure as anyone can be, at least. She'd told me she did, all those months ago when I proposed.
"I love you also," she'd said, and I'm pretty certain nothing had changed in the meantime.
I loved her then. I still do, in my own way. She was young and beautiful, if sometimes a little dull. This building, her home, was a stunning old place, traditional yet quite modernised, and she was rich enough that the costs of running it were hardly a burden to her.

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Party Plans

Wedding Plans #2

Preparations for our wedding were advanced. The church had been organised for months and the celebrations afterwards would be at her home, an imposing building with rooms enough for a massive party. The day before the ceremony she led me to the doors of the main dining room and flung them open with a flourish.
The decoration was beyond compare, the long table set for the wedding breakfast was all glittering silver and glass, dominated by a huge five- tier cake. I shook my head, almost breathless, and as she squeezed my hand all I could say was "That's amazing."

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The Dream

Wedding Plans #1

When I knocked and entered her bedroom she was sitting up in bed, her chin resting on her arms which embraced her pulled-up knees. She stared down at the foot of the bed as if there was something fascinating there.
I stood beside her bed and eventually asked "What's wrong?"
She remained silent, as if she didn't know the answer herself.
I touched her shoulder but she shrugged my hand off - she could be so tiresomely correct.
"I've just had a most... unusual... dream," she said slowly.
"Tell me?"
She shook her head.
"It may upset you," she said.