Buggered Mind of Neale Sourna, The

Opines, comments, rants, concerns, imaginings from Neale Sourna, fiction author and more -- www.Neale-Sourna.com, www.PIE-Percept.com, www.ProjectKeanu.com, www.AuthorsDen.com/nealesourna, www.CafeShops.com/NealeSourna, www.Writing-Naked.com, & www.CuntSinger.com

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Free Short Story online_The Veil: 1846 by Neale Sourna

The Veil: 1846

Gretna Green, Scotland

His mother hates me, fears that I'll take him from her, or, well actually, neither he nor I know for certain what she holds against me. But he understands this hindrance; that she wishes to post the banns for his marriage to … that other person.

So we ran, he and I, with my aunt's tacit approval, including giving me a gift before our late night journey began northward, to Scotland's nearest border and the famous Blacksmiths of Gretna Green, who forge both metal and legal marriage.

We were soaked from the rain's downpour, literally steaming in the hot work shelter, leaving me unable to wear my aunt's fair gift, as the smith was hot of foot to close and splash through cold puddles and slick mud to dry home and warm supper, and so we'd married without our rings, too deeply buried in my love's valise for safekeeping, as the smith impatiently waited to legally bind us.

And we runaways were forged together, man to woman, husband to wife, with full intent to double secure our matrimonial with a visit to a somewhat distant, but well-respected, ordained minister—in insurance against my new mother-in-law's contrary wishes and any possible suit of that other's frail love and family, in desiring to forever bind him in law, and with child.

We'd been hard pressed by possible pursuit and by our own leaping hearts to be forged together as one, over the tongs of Scotland's generous law. Now, it was done.

* * * *

We'd arrived at this lovely, gabled inn, a room was provided, warm meal and warm blankets, too, and our clothes had gone to be cleared of travel mud and dried.

All we wore were scratchy, woolen blankets.

We ate in mute happiness with nervousness underlying our delicate, new bond. Words of power had been spoken in that forge's rainproof shelter, the smith's apprentice a witness to acknowledge our new status in sacred mutual agreement; and the minister's extra weight of rank and piety would hold till floods ceased.

Our meal was eaten, with only bodily consummation the next surety to our bond of runaway love as yet left undone. We put aside food and wine for later, in case we hungered and thirsted in the night, during our first night alon‑.

I ran, with nerves too heightened, to the window and stared out, and stated, "The rain slows." He came and stood behind me, he in his blanket and I... http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/the-veil.html

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