The Road to London is Dead

Chapter 1

^Drawing of Elaine Frank^

The sky was a luminescent blue, with soft clouds floating around a painfully bright sun; too good weather for the last day of my life.
Well, I suppose it wasn't /truly/ the last day. To me, however, it felt like life from this day forward would be an endless journey of trudging through each day, pondering on how things might have been changed or how I should have truly taken control of what had been laid out before me like a wicked feast.

I stood in front of an ornate mirror in my room, eyeing myself in distaste. I had been forced into a perfectly horrible wedding gown; the most frivolous thing I had ever set eyes on. It was an off-white, with rather large fabric flowers pinned about the hem, and with creamy ribbon dripping down from the bodice. The skirts themselves were fluffy and large, as if the bigger it was the more attention it could draw from adoring crowds.

The door opened, and my bridesmaids tumbled into the room like a small avalanche of flowers and skirts. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as they joined me by the mirror.

"Oh, god," Eve blanched, "that dress is /hideous/." Eve was eyeing the thing as if it would jump off my body and try to eat her. Evelyn Deveau, my dear friend who was always so unabashedly opinionated, being the daughter of two professors. I nodded to her.

"It is rather bad," I agreed, turning back to the mirror. This time, their reflections looked back next to mine.

"Maybe if we...got rid of the flowers? They didn't even attempt to make them look real," Mattie said, crossing her arms. Her pale blond hair bounced as she shook her head in obvious disapproval. Even my friends couldn't make this situation better. Mattie reached from her bouquet of coronations and tucked one behind my ear, sweeping my brown ringlets to the side.

"It's an improvement, to say the least," Mae surveyed, catching my eye through her reflection in the mirror. I took a step back from the looking glass to properly take in my wedding party.

They had each let their hair tumble down from a crown of braids fashioned painstakingly, no doubt done by a careful servant's touch. They all wore matching silk dresses the colour of wheat, almost gold. They would have looked like works of art save for the unseemly cream ribbons tied to their waists. The colours seemed to hate each other, just like we all hated the dresses.

Eve tugged at hers, groaning at the hem that was already dirtied from being too long. Mae snickered playfully, not doubt enjoying the scene.

"Your mother will have a fit!" Mattie said, gesturing to the dirt. Eve tilted her chin up and put her hands on her hips.

"My mother's in Paris; she won't even know," she said, waving them off. She turned to me, her face serious.

"We could poison him," she said, going over to the window where servants could be seen setting up chairs and tables for the ceremony.

"We could kidnap him. Or you!" Mattie said triumphantly, waving an unladylike fist in the air. I laughed at their suggestions, trying not to actually take them into consideration. It was difficult.

The 'him' in question was my betrothed, an insufferable man nearly 14 years my senior. The thought of him alone made my skin crawl.
My parents had instantly fallen in love with the man; my friends and I had all loathed him within seconds. It had only taken three months, and now here I was, about to wed the most terrible man on the planet.

When I was a young girl, I had dreamed for hours of my wedding day. All the flowers, the expensive ribbon, the loving man I would be married to under the light of a beautiful sun. There would be dancing and cake and all my friends would get proposed to as well so that we would all get married around the same time, and have children and be happy. But obviously, my dreams were beginning to unwind viciously around me.

Eve flopped onto my bed, rustling her dress.

"You just need a really good excuse for why you can't marry him, that's all. Ah! You're allergic to old men." Mae and Mattie giggled, then began weaving their own excuses from some fantasy within their hopeful minds.

"You can't cook!"

"The dead have come back to life!"

"I'm married to the lord!" Suggestions flew in the air, putting a sarcastic smile on my face.

"Now, now. At least," I declared, "the man is rich." I got a hearty round of applause for my statement.

"When does the wedding begin, anyway?" Mae asked from her place at the window. I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall near her curly head.

"Just under an hour, now," I said slowly, as if I could make time itself slow down and wait for me to escape this fate.

"You're so unlucky. I'll probably have the same," Mattie pouted, putting her hands on my shoulders. "My parents want me to marry someone respectable--ha! Me!" She titters. I pat her hand; we can't all have the luck of marrying someone desirable. We both turn to glare at Eve, who is purposefully looking at the ceiling, avoiding the fact that she is, as of last month, engaged to Sir Stephen Foran; her long-time friend, and, recently, suitor! Of all the luck. She was overly pleased about the engagement. Instead of saying anything to make her situation worse, she points to Mae, who is obliviously playing with her hair. Mae, despite not being the oldest of us, has already married; a "rather happy fit!" She calls it. We were all rather surprised, but Frederick Fraser is a close friend of ours, so we couldn't help it to be happy for them.

"Don't worry, Mattie," I said, tutting. "We just happened to get the bad picks of the draw." We sigh together. Eve gets up from the bed, and joins us.

"Come now! Don't resign yourself to your fate! Things can change," she preached. We raise our eyebrows.

"Before Stephen--er, Mr. Foran, I suppose," she said, remembering her manners, "there was that awful Mr. Denby. But we never gave up and finally I'm with someone I like! If you don't give up hope, it shall still happen." She said fiercely. I wished to believe her, but it all seemed so out of reach now. Mattie looked at me, sympathetic.

"Status shouldn't matter," she said carefully. Eve and Mae quiet, looking over. The nod in agreement. It is like a stab to the heart, being reminded of him. There I was, preparing to wed, yet I was in love with another. It hurt me to picture life without my love by my side. Eve put a gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Things can still change," She tried. I gestured to my dress, and even my friends began to look doubtful.

I took their hands, ready to spend the last few moments of freedom I had before I would be stuffed into a guided cage forever.