With a nod of appreciation to the master, Charles Dickens, for the seed I borrowed to grow my story, I offer my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Hop over to the host site and find out how to contribute your own 100-word story and take part in the fun. The photo prompt was provided by Jan Wayne Fields.

THE HAVISHAM CURSE

The priceless, ornate table wear was arranged in perfect symmetry, awaiting the wedding breakfast. Each piece of tarnished silver lay untouched beside the once royal blue linen napkins, now faded to dusty gray. They matched the layers of dust that veiled the sparkle of crystal goblets and smothered the plates and bowls at each setting. Alicia stood at the dingy window, looking out. It no longer reflected her once white gown, fraying now at its yellowed edges. Her rose bouquet lay on the table, virtually petrified. Still, she waited. Edgar had promised to marry her.  She mustn’t lose hope yet.

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