The Vicar looked ill. He looked more like a man facing the guillotine than one who was performing the rites of matrimony. His heart hurt as he faced the couple. She looked as beautiful as ever, and he wondered how he would keep up with serving the parish and listen to her sweet singing voice in the choir.

He would have preferred to avoid being here, he could have asked for a replacement with a preposterous excuse – in fact, it wouldn’t have been an excuse that he had the runs – yet his sense of preservation deserted him.

His lips were dry, his stomach churned and his voice croaked and squeaked at the same time as he asked the question “If anyone has a reason for these two not to wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The air in the chapel shrunk in silence. No one expected an answer to a question that was simply a formality and all the heads swung in the direction of the back pew from where a voice had said an emphatic yes.

The old groundskeeper stood. Nodding to the Vicar, he said in his booming and gentle voice ”my boy, don’t you think you’ve got something to say to the congregation?”

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

P.S...I leave it to you to find a fitting end to this story. What do you think transpired?