"The Marriage Proposal" - A Flash Fiction

So I wrote a flash fiction today. If you don't know what flash fiction is, it's basically where you're given a prompt (either in word form or a picture you go off of) and told to write a super short story based on it (usually between 100 to 1,000 words). It's an exercise to condense emotions/writing style/etc. into topics that you don't usually write about. Basically, they're to help writers get better at writing, widen their horizons, challenge them, push them out of their comfort zone, etc.

Anyway, today's prompt was "Write Someone's Answer To A Marriage Proposal". Since I don't usually do a lot of romantic writing, it definitely was something outside my usual comfort zone. So I figured I'd share the result with all of you. LOL. I'd love to hear your thoughts. (Pardon any oddity. I'm not a romantic writer and I've never done anything like this before. ;) Haha!)


The Marriage Proposal, by Miranda Marie (A Flash Fiction):

Tell me that you’ll never leave me.

Not that we’ll still be together when we’re old – because that sounds too romantic, and romantic intentions are not enough. No, tell me instead that you will remain when we’re middle aged, and I’m overweight and your eyes are tired from long days at a job you hate, and our house is messy when you come home. When life is so mundane, so boring, that you almost can’t stand it. When the passion is gone and we’ve not yet reached a point where it is romantic or simpler to remain together because of old age. Tell me you’ll stay with me when all we do is bicker over which TV show to watch in the evening, and then go to bed earlier than you wanted and later than I cared for, and lay there beside me, feeling tired of this boring life that once was all you dreamed about.

Tell me that you’ll stay when this love is no longer an adventure, no longer a thrill, no longer a passion that burns within you. Tell me you’ll stay when talking feels more like a chore than an enjoyment, and on the nights where you’d rather stay out until I’m already asleep instead of spending it with me. Tell me you’ll come home anyway, tell me you’ll put bickering out of your mind and try to do what I want, so that I remember what it’s like to give instead of take. Say you’ll make the first step that will remind me I need to take steps too, so that the next night, I’ll do what you want and not argue, and maybe fall into that routine instead.

Promise you’ll stay through the boring, mundane, sad times that aren’t even all that bad – the times where it feels more exciting to leave instead – and then promise me that once we’ve gone through those periods like every couple does, that we’ll start trying harder. Tell me that you’ll lay awake one night and realize we can’t go on like this, and instead of leaving to start over with someone else, or by yourself, that you’ll resolve to start over with me. That we’ll work to find that passion again, when it seems it’s gone out, and learn to fall in love all over again, with each other, and not someone else.

Don’t tell me you’re marrying me because you can’t live without me – because someday, that feeling of needing me desperately will fade away into ashes.

Don’t tell me you’re marrying me because of passion, because passion fades and withers like roses.

Don’t tell me you’re marrying me because I’m everything to you, because someday when we’re middle aged and boring, I might end up being just another person in a life that maybe bores you. Just another puzzle piece in a life you’re no longer that excited about.

Don’t tell me you’re marrying me because I’m your better half, because I’m not perfect, and you’ll see every one of those flaws, and come to realize I’m not better than you at all. That really, I’m just as messed up and crazy and weird and annoying as you think you are, and I don’t want you to leave when you realize that’s the truth.

Don’t ask me to marry you because what we have is special, because everyone says that, and it’s never true. Feelings aren’t special. Passion isn’t special. Being everything to someone isn’t special.

Tell me you’re marrying me because you love me. No, not the kind of love everyone thinks of when the words is said – the kind that burns as passion, the kind that romanticizes everything, the kind that makes everything about life seem bright and wonderful and happy. That kind of love fades. It withers and dies, or comes and goes like waves against the shore.

But tell me you’re marrying me, that you’ll stay true forever and always, because of duty and honor. Tell me that you’ll stay with me always because once you take those vows, you’ll never go back on your word. Tell me that you’re serious about what we are building – serious enough to swear before God that you’ll always be mine, even when we’re boring and mundane and just another couple like every other couple out there. Tell me that you’ll stay true to your word, even when you don’t want to – tell me that the man who is marrying me is honorable and true, virtuous and noble. Tell me that you’ll take this commitment before God seriously, that it means more to you than a simple profession of passion.

Tell me that you’re never going to leave me, that you’ll never abandon me. Tell me that no matter the struggles, we’ll work through them, pass them by together, no matter how difficult. Tell me that I’m safe with you. Tell me that I’m secure with you. Tell me that you’ll build me a future where I never have to doubt that you’ll come home to me. Tell me that I’m yours, and you are mine, no matter what. Tell me this is the kind of love you have for me, that this is not just a profession of passion, but a promise of a future, a secure future that is ours, entirely ours, until death do us part.

And then prove it to me. Prove it to me every day, no matter the circumstances, no matter what we face. Give me your word, and then prove to me that your word is good.

Because this is what I want to build my future on.

This promise.

This security.

Because that… that is love. Not passion. Not feelings. Not emotions, as fleeting as flowers in spring: pretty but unsustainable.

Love is a promise.

It’s an oath, a covenant.

A future.

And if promising that doesn’t frighten you, doesn’t terrify you down to your very core, then think on it harder. Because this is not some small, easily-promised feat. This is not something that should be given without a heavy weight on your heart and your mind, that doesn’t frighten you in the middle of the night. It should be a resolve, a determination, a choice that you have made and are willing to go to the ends of the earth to keep. Don’t take this lightly. Don’t pretend it is small and easy. Think on it long, and hard, and be certain it is what you want – that you want me, that you want our future, that you want the weight of all the days to come.

There is no going back. You will be mine and I will be yours forever, and that is no small thing.

So promise me you have thought on it – really, really thought on it – and it is not a flight of fancy or a rush of passion pushing this from your lips.

Tell me you mean it.