Untitled - Campbell University

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known to everyone, while on the other side of the McIntosh tombs she weeps
dramatically.
The thought of her crying over such a trifling thing as marriage disgusts me.
Her ability to see nothing but the harshness of life, to not see the joining of two
monumental houses together, and her necessary need to be in love ruins the
thought. My love for her is “ever thine, ever mine, and ever ours,” and she continues
to ruin it, and disgrace the family name by shedding an immense amount of tears. It
forces one to contemplate the thought of the source of this sadness. Her need to be
immensely unhappy with me, and her lack of being able to conquer that thought,
forms the one shred of emotion felt in these dreary halls. They move like beads of
rain that perk in the eyes, and fall silently down her cheeks. At times, they seem
to have a life of their own, and move around her face as she moves, following her
movements and approving of her rebellion of this matrimony. The tears shed are
animals moving wildly from her face to her garments, the bed, and on the many
books she reads. They jump and swarm to her defense, and threaten the very likes
of me. At other times, her tears seem more remorseful than upset with me, of the
poor lad she lost tragically before. They silently move about the room, absorb into
everything in the room, and overwhelm me when I walk into the room. They are
everywhere, silently watching me scold her, beg her to come upstairs, throw myself
down and apologize to her, and the recurring ending of me throwing myself into
another lashing.
They follow me, and during the night, as I wander the halls, they run down the
stones and stain the marble walls. During the dinner festivities, she remains in the
room beside my ancestors’ tombs, and I eat upstairs with Agnes. Agnes chats to
me about her day, the wedding planning, and her intentions to be my best man
since my father is no longer here, a sister will have to due in lieu. The tears begin
to stream down the walls of the great hall, and start to run towards my feet on the
floor. They drop in my soup, and fall on the tops of my hands resting on the table.
The sobbing is heard everywhere, and my beloved’s unhappiness is felt by no one but
me. The dinner concludes with the dishes collected by the waitstaff, Agnes going up
to bed for light reading, without a blemish on her clothes or skin. The garments that
now disgustingly hang off my body are drenched in her disgusting water, that pours
constantly. They are acidic, and sting my face and hands. The walls are damaged,
and the entire castle will need to be cleaned. The waters are evading the entire
premises. After writing in my nightly journal, I pick up my parchment to admire my
work. The ink flows from the page onto droplets and stains my clothing. The book
dissolves and slips between my fingers as a sift, and salty black water stains my
hands.