The Harvest Fly Wedding (unfinished)
Even harvest flies gathered to see the wedding. It was balmy and picturesque the way a country wedding should be. There were candles and a setting sun that cast a orange glow over everything, and the temperature was just high enough to allow the bride to wear a strapless gown; revealing, but classy.
She was beautiful and he was handsome, but the couple gave off an air of too much obviousness. It was overtly presumed about the town that they would eventually wed, their compatibility was built on many similarities and mutually held ideals. They were both pleasant to behold and of a temperate nature; the only disagreement on public record was a heated discussion overheard at Lover’s Point when they were still in highschool.
It was also well known that despite these frequent trips to Lover’s Point, the pair had managed to maintain their innocence until the completion of their nuptials; it was also known that it was not at all too invading or prying that the entire township knew of such personal and intimate details.
The two kissed as harvest flies flitted about their heads and the sea of oversized hats swayed as one with the dabbing of numerous eyes with numerous handkercheifs; the majority of which belonged to neither relation or close friend. It was typical of these old southern woman, to regard the youngsters as substitutes for the absent children that used to fill their now empty, and unfulfilled lives. The couple knew their romance had whiled away many gossip-filled hours with the local knitting circle, and they had therefore been only delighted, to invite each and evey one of of them, hats and all, to witness their marriage.
The Unknown Body Parts
The first time I noticed my eyesight fading was the day they found the leg on the train tracks. It was a left leg, but that’s all I remember. The newspaper article was dull around the edges; I gave up reading when the letters merged together.
It wasn’t much longer after that I started noticing the lights. They appeared in the darkness, in the midday sun and always at the top left of my eyeball. They flashed for a moment, and then stopped; leaving a sharp pressing pain in their wake. I paused in the middle of streets and on staircases, I blocked walkways and elevators doors more than once when the lights appeared; I apologised, but I didn’t really mean it. An apology means you won’t do it again, and I couldn’t promise that.
The day I got the news of my brain tumour, the radio said they found a right arm at the side of the road two miles from where they found the leg; they belonged to the same person, but they still didn’t know who.
It didn’t take them long to get me an appointment; I left behind my home-cooked meals and switched to hospital food, and I traded my fancy clothes for hospital gowns. But for all my sacrifice, the chemo wasn’t working.
When the doctor came to me with words of resignation and advice to live out my final weeks with the people I loved, I wasn’t listening to him. I strained my blind-strengthened ears to the corridor and heard a nurse say they’d found the girl’s head in a drain.
The day I visited the train tracks I didn’t know if my shirt matched my shoes, whether my hair was sticking out at an odd angle or whether I had stains on my trousers. None of those things seem important when you can’t see them yourself.
I tried to picture the girl they found in all those pieces. In my head she was young, blonde and full of hope, but she could have been anyone. When I stepped out on to the tracks I could hear the rumble of the train behind me; it was too close to stop. I heard the yells and the screams, but I didn’t feel like listening so I ignored them. I hoped they’d think it was an accident; the blind girl that wandered on to the tracks. Then they’d find the tumour, and they’d wonder.
At the exact split second I felt the warm metal of the train connect with my back, I mused on the fact that I hadn’t painted my toenails in the longest time. I considered this was probably the least of my concerns, but I couldn’t help but picture them finding my leg, just like the other girl. As I finally met the train and my mind went as black as my eyes, I realised, we weren’t much different.
