Creative Writing: A Humorous Wedding

“What pure beauty have I found alone in this perfect world?” Theo’s voice is like the gates of heaven as he speaks. Genevieve is wearing a white dress with flowers embrowned. Her shoulders are hunched and her neck is long. Her black hair is slicked back into a bun, and her eye makeup is dark and strong. “Don’t you know your prince is here to take you away? Come and leave these commoners.” Genevieve is strung along with every word he says. She is addicted, to his sent, his mind, his darkness. He makes her crazy, he is always far away but then their lips meet. He is so close “Your chariot awaits.”

“Theo,” Genevieve says as she stands up and fallows him.

…

“There are so many people here tonight,” Amelia whispers into his shoulder. All the guest

He has this soft curly hair that is messily done, an old out-of-date suit. He is soft and nerdy, not really the type of boy that lives in this town. The band is starting to bang on their drums. It is a hallowed scary sound. “I watch as the couple in red secretly falls in love, but then separate with only the secret they share.” But Peter does not have time to be swept away because of love. “How beautiful their secret must be in this cold dark world.”

“Peter James, my name is Rose,” Roses says as her lips smile but her light green eyes are pouting. She is wearing a black dress, fits in like the rest of the pretty girls. She is envious of Amelia and how she stands out. Her even toned brown hair is pin straight, a simple length faming her snow white skin. “Roland would like to have a word with you,” her words are slow, as if time does not matter, she does not choose them carefully like she would if she spoke to a Great. The truth is she does not know that he will make himself a Great. “You will find him standing in the garden. If you do not mind taking a moment out of your uneventful night,” had tone is distressful, she does not know how to speak to him, she never does when someone is a scholarship boy. She has been taught not to bother with his type, everyone has. But there is some reason why Roland has obsessed with him from the moment they read

Her fiery red hair is pulled back on top of her hair. She slowly takes off the black glasses that frame her face. She takes off the light make-up, and pulls the hair tie out of her hair, allowing a deep red hair fanning over her shoulders like a settling dust cloud. She looks at the reflection of the girl she does not even know. The room around her is simple, would not tell anyone anything about her. It is a sort of white on white type of room. Add description of her and the room.

“Miss a party; hold your head up high. They would never remember you anyways. Drunk on life, drunk on love,” Scarlet says as she sits at her desk and studies her already finished homework. Shakespeare sits on top, something she read, something she understands on a basic plot level. Scarlet wishes she could forget the tournament of her peers, the way the nerd became the victim of treacherous deaths. “Deep breaths, smart brains, destroy them all. Welcome to the up all-nighters, sober as a judge, life ain’t always flashy like the Greats.” She knows that the Greats have to learn something, to make them better then the outsiders. Maybe they learn how to look away, how to forget. Right now she could use a lesson in forgetting. But what she wants to forget is important, it is the drive, that’s why it is burned into her soul. “Or lovely like the romantics. Pretty as a picture, smarter than the girl you’re with. Baby life gets better