Baby Shank/Shank Chronicles

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The Perfect Dress

A large picturesque window stuffed with frilly and Lacey wedding gowns greeted me. They beckoned me to go inside with their signs promising to match my desires for a perfect wedding. I gathered up the courage and pushed my way into the store. The loud ding from the door almost made me pee my pants and flee.

All attention snapped to me. The glances are first to my shockingly colored blue hair; down to my clothes and finally to my face. Most people already judged and dismissed me at this point. Too young; Punk; trouble- I can see it on their face. It's only human to judge. I do it too, but I at least give people the chance to make me wrong.

I wander the store. The dresses are entombed in plastic. Cold, untouchable and locked away from me. The price tag taunts me: Ten thousand; five thousand; a thousand. The happiest day of my life and I have to spend a chunk of change on a dress that I can only wear once? No thanks.

I look at the bargain dresses. Poor brides apparently have bad taste. No one thinks they deserve to have a beautiful gown too.

I am not finding anything that speaks to me. Nothing I want Ansen to see me in and remember me forever.

There's a bride behind me with her family around her. She's standing on a pedal stool while attendants flutter around her. She wears an intricate expensive gown, and she radiates beauty and happiness.

The Grandmother gasps and cries as her granddaughter is crowned with a costly tiara and flowing veil. The family gathers about the happy bride to celebrate her, and her beauty. And the attendants swoop in with like vultures because every shopper is prey. They offer her expensive jewelry to go with her perfect wedding gown.

I turned my back upon them.

No one preys upon me. I wear the ring. I have the adoring and loving Fiance. I have the money. But I am girl with blue hair, and no family.

On my way to leave, I find a sheath dress hanging on a dummy. I think Ansen would love it, and I could feel beautiful in it. It's not long or puffy like a Princess Dress. A lace overcoat goes over the simple white silk gown. There's a split up front, so Ansen will see my bare feet as I walk toward him. Perhaps it will billow in the ocean breeze.

A layer of lace and a layer of silk: I will wear as Cassandra Cole for the last time, and as Mrs. Ansen Delacroix for the first time.

I shall buy my dress elsewhere.

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