Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – Two Hundred and Forty-Seven

Whoever heard of a purple bouquet? It seemed to her to be more appropriate for mourning than rejoicing. But she knew her bridesmaidly duty.

Wedding over, she followed the happy couple down the aisle, although the claustrophobic sense of danger was almost overwhelming.

They stepped out of the shadowy church porch into a blindingly bright summer day. She heard a strange noise, repeated six times and felt a stinging pain in her upper arm. The bride and groom were less lucky as they were both hit mid chest.

In the pandemonium, she dropped the purple flowers among the scarlet blood.

©jj 2019

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