The Wedding Scene

Here’s a raw, unedited wedding scene. I was inspired by the Casa Batlló by Gaudí, which he designed to look like the story of Saint Jordi and the Dragon. I haven’t even read through it to check for mistakes yet, so please enjoy it for the unpolished thought process that it is.

Cecelia stood on the back deck amidst a jumble of chairs and decorations. People in white shirts and aprons, black pants were bustling about her moving things this way and that. It seemed to Cecelia that they would move something a few feet, and then just leave it. The setting was coming together, but it felt like chaos to her. She tried to calm herself, looking around at the inner courtyard, the plane backs of buildings, fire escape stairs. The fence to her right was shaped like a face with evil squinting eyes, topped hair of steel barbs. She walked over to the fence, looking at the lock that was now open for the service people, then down the metal stairs into the alley, the rolling metal baskets, a couple of scooters to the wide street beyond. There was a closed metal door between her and the street. 

    Cecelia wandered to the back of the deck where there were more stairs encased in more of the artful chain fence. These stairs descended into the back of the building, but it was unclear where they went. Even though this was closer to the mosaic plant wall that would be the backdrop to their vows, it felt inaccessible. (Trailing roses sat in pots on top of the fence, ready to be put in the wall.) The other stairs felt like a safer option, easy out.

    There were also the small stairs leading to the neighbor’s deck; she climbed these and leaned on the short fence. Across the neighbor’s yards there was a stained glass turret, the sun rising to shine through the deep green tree. She stared at this shimmering sight that felt like it was moving like a real tree in the breeze. The gentle broken sun rays danced on her face, and she felt hopeful. There was life before her, and abundance, growth and peace. This wave of hope surprised her, and with that surprise came a wave from deep within herself: fear and doubt. She wanted to keep looking at this tree that shined hope, but her feet were already backing down the stairs, shaking hand on the railing. 

    With her lids tight shut, she turned back to the house and was greeted by the slight of the protective fence next to the house, curved claws of metal around the top to keep intruders from climbing over. Cecelia instinctively leaned over to one side to avoid these claws as she entered the door. Two pastel pillars with a scale pattern stood in the center of the door, and she hugged the edge of the door to avoid coming near them. 

    Her personal changing area was on the top floor, and while her dress hung on a dress tree waiting for her she passed it and proceeded to the roof. The arched back of a dragon was before her, a small door at its base. The tile roof of white to yellow to dark orange and red stood poised like a cat ready to attack. She tiptoed quietly towards it, so as not to wake it, and went in the small door. It was an arched room with a small fountain of white, and she stood there drinking in the peace. She watched the pulses of bubbling water that came down the metal dome in waves for a timeless moment. She was brought back to time when her sister called out.

    “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you, and everyone has seen you somewhere, and no one knows where you are.”

    “Ok,” Cecelia said flatly.

    “Come on. Lets get you dressed,” sister grabbed Cecelia’s hand. They walked back into the sunlight, then back into a dark spiral staircase. These stairs took them back into the large bride’s room. Cecelia’s heart tightened, but she took a breath to steel herself. 

Time time time

    The ribs of the room felt as if they were moving. Cecelia was sinched up in her dress which made breathing difficult. The edges of her vision were closing in with darkness on each side, the room danced with a circular wavy pattern that didn’t clear up when she blinked. There wasn’t pain, but her head felt like it was tightening from the inside. The ribs continued to move, like a breathing beast, and she realized she was under the dragon‘s back. She was IN the dragon now, it’s breath slowly pushing down on her, then pulling out. The room was hot with his fiery breath, and her vision became more clouded with his smoke. 

    She wondered how she could get out and get to the tree. Would they allow her in? 

    “Cecelia, it’s time,” her mother called. She took Cecelia by the elbow and started to lead her towards the elevator.

This took them down the narrow hall filled with more moving ribs. They stepped into the wavy glass elevator. Cecelia tried to focus on the blue diamond walls beyond the central open atrium, but she was confused between her own tightened vision and the passing of the wavy glass. They passed a dark pillar, and she saw her own reflection in the glass, her painful expression further distorted. ‘What brought me to this place? How did I agree to this?’ she thought. Then her plan came back to her in force. She would run again, now. She was going to go now. The fence, the gate, the stairs, the mopeds out onto that broad open street. 

Her mother pulled the doors open, they met her father in the room behind the pillars. He offered her his left arm to hold, but she pushed herself around to grab his right elbow. 

‘Was this too obvious?’

“We practiced on this side,” he said.

“I know,” was all she could get out.

The walked back past the pillars, he passing on the left, she on the right. He went to offer her his arm again, but she had already taken a sharp right turn and was pulling open the gate. She pushed into the fear of the black steel face starring at her, then to her relief the lock was dangling by the latch. In and instant she though to lock the latch and block anyone from following her. Everyone was so surprised by her actions that they remained seated aghast. Her father’s ceremonial sword caught on the fence, preventing him from lunging at her.

Cecelia was behind the locked gate, hiked up dress, fleeing down the stairs. She recognized Jordi’s voice calling after her, and as she turned the end of the stairs she could see him trying to climb the fence, frantically calling her name.

Her hearing felt muffled like her vision; she made her way mostly by memory. The servant felt safe leaving the keys in his moped behind the locked door, not realizing that it could be stollen by someone on the inside. Cecelia pushed open the heavy door, struggling to roll the moped through it at the same time. She twisted the train of her dress, tucked it between her legs and barely keeping balance turned it on and reved. The quick start snapped her neck back, and she fish-tailed as she turned right onto the road into oncoming traffic. 

The car swerved to his right, she swerved to her right almost hitting the huge public garbage cans. Then she took another right up onto the sidewalk, thinking she was on the side road. People dogged left and right as she weaved back to the driving lane. The Casa Lleo Morera caught her attention, the door was open, the doorman looked friendly; maybe he would take her to the stained glass turret. She didn’t have control of the moped. She glanced back at the door as the motor took her forward.