Sorry Will I don't know anyone who can write really well try @_the_midnight_hour_ and @Nico_Solace
Wedding vows suck. I crumpled an entire notebook of pages trying to get an idea, anything, down. I came up empty-handed. All my free time was spent trying to write some quality vows. "I'm screwed." I said three weeks before the big day.
"Why?" Amy had grown almost as tall as me, and just as sarcastic.
"I can't write vows."
"At some same-sex marriages there are prewritten vows."
"Yeah, but those are boring."
"Mmhm. Said the son of the god of poetry without the gift of poetry."
"Shut up Amy." The door closed behind me, but she wasn't offended. I could hear her laughter. I'm so totally screwed. What do I say that's not totally cheesy or stupid?
I jotted a single sentence down on the paper, then left in total defeat.
Brain, if you could do that thing where you're being a good brain, yeah that'd be great.
I walked over to the infirmary to distract myself. I knew I'd end up procrastinating and trying to write them the night before, but I needed to not think about writing.
A few demigods were in there for capture the flag games or training. One had cut her finger due to a flaming arrow. That was a pain in the ass. Burnt third degree and sliced open to third degree.
But it all emptied, and I was left with nothing to do for once. Do mortals normally have free time? What do they do? Phones were strictly banned on camp grounds, as other electronics.
I hadn't gotten any better at archery over the past years, but I still wanted to shoot an arrow or two. Possibly flaming. The range seemed bigger than I remembered, but still familiar. I grabbed my old bow, much more dilapidated from use, and a few quail arrows.
I squinted at the bullseye, it's red center glaring at me. Unused. I wanted to change that. The bowstring was stretched taut, and any slight movement would release the arrow inside. Then I exhaled, and released. The arrow hit not quite on the red, but very close. Good for me.
After several more misses, none of them as good as my first shot, the dinner horn cut through the air like a knife. Good. I could use some food.
The next day I did it all again. Frustration, infirmary, archery, dinner. Then again. Then again. Then I cut out archery trying to cram for writing the vows, unsuccessfully. Was there a way to do this? Or an epiphany? Any way to study?
Two weeks. That was all I had to write decent vows with no gift of writing emerging. Dad, please? I said in a silent prayer. I need to write these well, preferably without rhyming or haikus.
I still had no vows.
On the big day.
