Scene One: Castel Sant’Angelo, the Library.
He looked at Simon, the picture of despair, his elbows resting on the other side of the desk, his head in his hands.
What the hell are you going to do, Simon? It’s make your mind up time, I need some sleep. Are you going to marry her or what? Frankly, it’s a bit bloody late in the day to be having this conversation. We’re supposed to be at the church in precisely seven hours.
Ed, I just wanted to be normal, you know, not the target for stupid jokes from bigoted nutters. Jesus, I haven’t done it since I was seventeen. Do you know what that feels like? Always hiding, pretending to be something I’m not. Look, Edward, just give me the bloody key; this may be my last chance!
Edward shook his head sadly as Simon just groaned again and poured himself another brandy. Edward took the key from the desk, opening the windows and raising his eyebrows, stood clear, and tried again to get through to his brother.
Who was it said “The one charm about marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties.”. Just don’t do anything stupid, and I really think you should tell Kate if you are determined to go through with this. It’s her life too, you know.
Oscar Wilde? Simon responded automatically.
No, I can’t let her go and I can’t …
Simon hurled the glass in the direction of the fireplace , unfurled his wings and flew slightly unsteadily out of the open window. Continue reading “A Match made in Heaven: Short Story Competition.”
Boadicea's Chariot 