None Held Their Peace

I have proposed to a stone, yet none who answer the call of ministry will marry us. Instead of a gifted wreath heralding glad tidings, we have been served up with poorly suppressed laughter. Who will stand in as witness so that I may vow as is my solemn right. A dishonorable congregant of the more well known church boasting an attendance of two hundred had me in derision from the moment I confessed my love. He surrounded me with a band of his unruly fellows. Each clutching a rock in hand promised to make me a polygamist. Their jest bore violent undertones of a martyr's demise. School children finger painted brightly colored eyes and lips on the motionless paramour. I could not tell if they were trying to participate in earnest. It hardly matters. She does not perceive like we do. Neither are her words the product of a gaping mouth. The town's women took pity on me offering drink for fear of dehydration. Pressing down on my shoulders each spoke over each other about the madness of unquenched thirst. They made me to sit on mounds of straw and provender. However, I was troubled from within myself at the sight of that weasel from the bloated church playing keep away with my bride to be. A dear companion of mine, who also opposed the wedding, knew how much I cared for the stone. He did not suffer the horseplay attempting to secure Petra. It was then that guards of the imperial court were spotted making their way to scene of which I seemed to be the sole cause. Scattering the women with gestures of dismissal, each guard stole a lance at the ruffians, and my love was dropped with out any harm. My eyes meet those belonging to the chief of unamused soldiers. He looked upon me for what felt to be an eternity. I parsed my lips to speak only to have him trample my half initiated greeting with an aggravated question, "What is the meaning of this commotion?" I told him about the drawn out indignity I suffered trying to wed a stone. After hearing my plea that slow danced with a back story so touching, he inquired softly if I genuinely loved the stone. I answered him in the affirmative with no additional reason until he required one. With a frozen expression the chief asked as to why I loved the stone. To which I replied, "Because I hate your windows!"