The Pink God

The Pink God suddenly appeared from the skies, and the cathedral went dark. Then, just as quickly, the skies shone bright once more.

“Why are you marrying your cousin?” The question came from the third pew. Viola looked up. “I’m not. Azrael is my cousin. Elijah is my lover.”

“No. Elijah is your cousin. Azrael is your lover.”

Viola went to shake her head but, sure enough, it was true. She knew it in her gut.

“Don’t you hate him?” another voice called out from the sides. Viola shook her head again. “Why would I hate him?”

“Because of the pregnancy.”

Viola wanted to protest that she was not pregnant, and to the contrary had consistently said she didn’t want kids, but… she is? Her stomach was slightly round. How did she miss that?

“Remember? Ever since that night at the inn with only one bed available?”

Viola now vaguely remembered a cold night with the need to stay warm. How could she have forgotten such a crucial and physical detail?

The Pink God descended once more. When the cathedral was alight again, a crack of lighting was seen through the windows. It was now drizzling outside despite it having been sunny before. Viola could have sworn the sun had been shining through the windows. She could have also sworn that the flowers in her bouquet were purple, not white, and that the carpeting they had placed earlier looked a few inches shorter. Viola watched as the brown colors in the pews became hyper realistic, as if someone had suddenly turned up the resolution, while the flowers faded in and out before settling back on purple. The peaceful harp music that had been playing in the background was now silent.

“Where did the harpist go?” Her bridesmaid asked.

“Cut for pacing,” another whispered back. “But between you and me, I think it was because of padding.” Viola frowned. She could have sworn that she had just been looking at him, thinking of asking for music lessons afterwards.

“Viola! Please!” A voice cried out from the back, echoing as the caller ran closer.

“Who are you?” She asked, very genuinely confused.

“It is I! Your second lover, NEEDS NAME HERE! Don’t you remember how you pined between us for long enough that everybody else got tired of it? We spent that spicy night together in the cave.” He looked pointedly down to her hand on her stomach.

“Oh my!” An older woman cried out. “Mamma Mia!”

“Exactly,” NEEDS NAME HERE agreed. “Wrong story, but correct.”

“I must say, I really appreciate being included in your wedding,” the man with the blackest and most luscious hair Viola had ever seen suddenly remarked. She was about to ask why the villain—the man who had tried to kill her so many times and she in turn had fought with everything she had—was at her wedding, but at this point decided to keep it to herself.

“Sir Chris of the Pines, what a true honor it is to see you here,” Elijah said, grasping his arm with both hands. “Although, I am not shocked, after that third act redemption arc, where you nearly fell off that cliff.”

“Indeed, it was very reflective of my choices and fall from grace.”

“Who is getting married this time?” One of Viola’s flower girls asked.

“Me!” Both Azrael and NEEDS NAME HERE responded loudly.

“I will have you know that cave scene tested very positively with early readers. They found it—”

“Spicy. Yes, so I’ve heard,” Azrael interrupted. “Although the motivation to go there in the first place was vague at best. You don’t even have a name yet. How could it possibly be you?”

“That just means they are probably saving it for something really good. Probably dark and trendy. Something that suggests a very tragic backstory.”

“He looks like a Cassian,” Viola heard someone murmur from the pews.

One of her bridesmaids shrugged. “Or something starting with an X, like Xavier or Xadien. They do love an unnecessary consonant.”

A man in the back raised his hand like he was in class. “What if it’s just… Joe?” What followed was absolute silence, except for the sound of a glass shattering across the marble and an audible scandalized gasp.

“Absolutely not!” Azrael and NEEDS NAME HERE responded.

“We have standards!” Another yelled out.

“They tested that already in Draft One. Was quickly erased,” another muttered.

“Technically there was a version where she married me,” Sir Chris pointed out. Half the cathedral gasped again, while the other half nodded sagely.

Azrael and NEEDS NAME HERE looked at Elijah, who merely shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I still think the version where I was the lover was the most interesting.”

The skies darkened again. Sir Chris looked up. “If we are doing revisions again, could I recommend less cliffs? I feel like my redemption arch doesn’t really need them…”

“I quite enjoyed it,” Azrael chuckled.

“Of course you did, Mr. One Bed.”

“I would like more muscle,” offered Elijah.

“You don’t need more muscle. You are the cousin,” Sir Chris responded.

“Still, I really think it could add a little bit more to my character. From a developmental standpoint, of course.”

Before anyone could respond to him, the door opened with a crash, and a mysterious figure in a hooded cloak, dripping with rainwater, started to come in. “I heard you needed—”

“No thank you! Not this time.” The door shut in their face with a loud bang.

“Are we still doing the dramatic part where the earthquake happens?” Viola didn’t see who asked it, but they were immediately thrown out the same door the hooded figure had been.

“Quiet! Don’t tempt the Pink God!” The guests hissed.

“Ever since Draft Three, I had been saying that we needed a rewrite on that.”

“Honestly, did she even pay attention to page forty-two?”

As the skies darkened once more, and the Pink God descended, Viola heard a bridesmaid whisper, “Is this still a wedding scene?”