The Urn via The Walk-through
A curious smell perfumes the air, sweet and kind of peppery. A soothing gurgling ripples around you as you behold what must be the biggest chocolate fountain on the planet. Chocolate spills in silken caramel waves over the top of the urn and down the sides. It pools into a mocha latte pond that reminds you of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, a fountain of love, chocolate love. Mmmm. Just as you’re thinking how cool it would be to impress the kids back at the resort with this, you glimpse a flash of peacock blue. It’s Delilah’s voluminous beach kaftan. What’s she doing here? You thought she was immobilised with a migraine.
You hesitate behind the wide girth of the urn. She hasn’t seen you, yet. There’s something battered and purple in her hands, something bouquet shaped. She shoves it in a non-bridal way behind one of the concrete benches skirting the urn. You duck lower.
This is silly, you think. Obviously, Delilah has found the rings, now she can get on and follow that dream of hers. You step out of hiding and confront her just as she straightens up.
She yelps like an incensed hyena at the sight of you, chilling every blood cell in your body.
“What are you doing here?” she snaps. “Where are my pills?”
Your heart races. “I…it’s quicker to the resort this way. I thought you were going to wait for me by the chocolate shop. So…your feet are as cold as their ice creams,” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m not marrying that man,” she declares hysterically. “I can’t love someone who loves his hair more than me.”
Personally, you agree and reach silently for the bouquet to retrieve the rings and put this ugly episode behind you, unaware your move translates as betrayal.
Delilah’s skull-splitting scream is the last thing you hear as a tent of kaftan engulfs you. You’re knocked sideways and tumble face first into warm swirling chocolate. It’s deeper than it looks and chilli hot! Your skin burns and every orifice stings as though a thousand fire ants are using you as a pincushion. You thrash for the surface but a tremendous suction draws you under and for a ridiculous moment, you picture yourself as Augustus Gloop being sucked up the fudge tube in Wonka’s factory. Only there aren’t any tubes, just a fathomless ocean of brown. Why, oh why Delilah? you wonder as you disappear from sight.
The thought of performing Elvis classics makes you want to heave. You’d rather channel your creative prowess into photography, capturing as many memories as you can to turn into a photo-book for Delilah. It might be the best keepsake she gets of her Sanctuary Cove wedding. Take a photo of yourself at each location, and then upload it to Facebook/Twitter using #StoryCity.