I recently heard about a book called “642 Things to Write About” which I plan to buy. I have wanted to put my toe back into creative writing for a while now, so I thought that this would be a good way to start. I will be posting these every few weeks and see how I go.
You are given ideas and outlines which you work from. Today I have decided to use:
You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiance’s wedding.
I am sat here, on the roof of the hotel where my ex love is getting married, peering through the skylight. There are a million questions running through my head right now. How did I get here? How did it come to this? Why has the bastard got the same cake design that we chose for our wedding?
Mark always used to tell me that I was too organised. So organised it seems that I have helped him plan his wedding, to someone else. How can it be that only nine months ago we were planning our own wedding yet here I am today, staring down at everything we had planned, but I’m not invited.
The kitchen is busy with waiters running around, chefs shouting to get the first course out; I see Mark stayed with the prawn and mango salsa starter that we had decided on.
I only meant to take a peek around the door of the venue, how did I end up on the roof? Now I am here, I’m not sure if I'm insulted or if I just want to laugh. The menu looks to be exactly the one that we chose, the bespoke wedding cake that I had designed is there; I have no doubt that if I could see into the reception room, the place settings and decorations would be the same too.
Where is the bride in all this? Where is Sarah? When Mark left me, he told me that he wanted someone who wasn’t so fiercely independent. Someone who would stay at home, have the children, become the perfect wife that he always wanted. That has never been me.
I always used to notice the way my friend Sarah looked at Mark. The look of longing that she thought I didn’t notice. Well I did, but never thought anything of it, until a week after he broke our engagement and I saw the two of them strolling hand in hand down the street.
I wonder what life she has chosen for herself. Her own wedding, chosen down to the napkin holders by someone else, by me, the friend that she betrayed. Not the best start to married life. I thought I was over all of that, yet here I am, sat on the roof like some deranged stalker.
Ashamed, I move back to the edge of the building, looking round to make sure I won’t be seen as I descend the fire escape. I wonder, have I made a lucky escape or has he? He is the one in the wedding suit and I am crawling around on a roof.
I made it back down to street level and start walking around the building, anxious to get away. I spy the wedding car pulling up to the front entrance in the distance and my heart starts to beat faster. Do I hide, do I walk past; do I turn back? Instead I linger at the corner, unnoticed by the people now crowding at the entrance.
Sarah looks happy and radiant, Mark looks smug. His loud voice carries down the street. He is telling people that they are going to be amazed by the reception. He's taking credit for everything, as he always used to.
I smile to myself. My heart stops it's relentless pounding. I'm done with this man. I wait for them to enter the hotel and then walk away, entering my own new life.