I remember.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The white petals, the slender pale green stem swaying in the winter cold wind.\u00a0 A moment with narcissus and the child, who was oblivious of the circumstances. \u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The demurring and pitying smiles of ladies-in-waiting, the whispered trill of laughter as they danced down the tall, stone, halls\u2013she loves narcissus, she loves the narcissus flowers\u2013well she should, well she should, as she weds the living, breathing freezing man himself.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I\u2019ll wed in April.\u00a0 I\u2019ll wed when the dew is like diamonds upon the white of narcissus, its deep red heart like the beating of mine.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I exist to please the eye, they said in whispers, and that is all. \u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
My pale, tall groom, so stoic and waiting\u2013I remember being a young girl and not knowing.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I wed in June as all brides do\u2013I longed for the cool of April.\u00a0 He stood so tall, so austere as in my dreams, my white knight.\u00a0 He stood tall and without a smile or glance of kindness. \u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The monk took a pitying glance at the roses in my grip.\u00a0 The heavy blooms trembled in my numb hands.\u00a0 The holy man mumbled, regarding the pallor of my face. My knight frowned in response.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I was out of my tall tower to be given to the man who waits. \u00a0 I dread the night.\u00a0 I dread the knight.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
No food touches my lips, no wine for my stomach\u2019s sake.\u00a0 The supplications of kinder women that I knew\u2013take, they said, take, and the coldness of his touch might lessen tonight.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
No.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
He held out his arm that I may touch but not lean.\u00a0 I stay within my austere body, not weeping for those few who cared for me.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
If I had seen a measure of kindness, if the blackness of his frown lightened or the pale, thin lips had softened into a slight smile in private. \u00a0No, only a mask of a man handsome to some to me a prison.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Narcissus, narcissus, I heard the girls sing\u2013and now knew their meaning. \u00a0My future was written in my taste in flowers, only I could love the cold and winter blast, only I could survive the frosty blast.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
We walked beneath\u00a0the high-vaulted ceilings hung in tapestry and glory.\u00a0 His voice alone now mine to hear, deep and austere \u201cI have secured the borders of this lofty tower and your beauty and your fairness are now mine to ponder.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I bowed my head and sealed my lips refusing to look at a man who viewed me as a\u00a0prize and perhaps, yes perhaps worthy in feature to\u00a0be called\u00a0his bride.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Narcissus, narcissus, I hear the girls clatter.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u201cYou think me shallow, I see the outside of my wife\u2013not at all, not at all my dove, I see both inside and out\u2013you are\u00a0lovely, a fair spring flower\u2026\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The narcissus I remember and let the tears slide.\u00a0 No sorrow, or compassion, no tender touch\u2013he waits and so I pull within myself the grief that has escaped.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
To the tall tower, our bedchamber now, in a daze and docile I go.\u00a0 The air seems light and the June evening at last cool; the lights are low and the rose petals upon the floor, upon the cushions, and upon the bed glow.\u00a0 He seems well satisfied; \u00a0he seems content, and at the pinnacle of satisfaction looks about and his eyes light upon me.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
But to the edge, I have crept while his mind\u00a0took stock of all that is now his.\u00a0 A moment of hate flashes across his face and a word of denial screamed, slashing like a sword\u2019s edge from his mouth \u2013<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Too late, too late and it is I who smile as the cobblestones below I embrace for comfort\u2013a moment\u2019s pain and years of release.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Narcissus, narcissus they whisper not jeering, narcissus, narcissus they scatter in the cold freezing spring as I sweep along the cobblestones, leaving a tinkling, icy laughter.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I glide upon the stair during the winter\u2019s interminable night.\u00a0 I wait, I wait;\u00a0 my hand now cold and white.\u00a0 His grip\u00a0on marriage slipped. He dreads the spring, with all the force of a dying man upon the dying earth.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
A madness sears his once handsome face. The narcissus blooms in fields every frigid April\u2013a reminder I wait.<\/p>\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ll wed in April. I\u2019ll wed when the dew is like diamonds upon the white of narcissus, its deep red heart like the beating of mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2224,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,3],"tags":[11,36,39],"class_list":["post-1077","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","category-short-fiction","tag-amwriting","tag-amwritingfiction","tag-ghost"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"amp_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/lydiaink.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/White-Narcissus.jpeg?fit=1408%2C768&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1077","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1077"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1077\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2225,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1077\/revisions\/2225"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2224"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1077"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1077"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lydiaink.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1077"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}