Aphrodite's Pearls
by Zannie Rose
Aphrodite picked up the pale pink pearl necklace.
''Something borrowed,'' announced her mother when the date was set. ''It was a gift to your Victorian great-grandmother from her betrothed. Every bride since has worn it on her wedding day.''
The clammy-soft pearls made Aphrodite's skin creep.
Two days to go. She hadn't told her mother she didn't want to wear them. Her fiance said just tell her. But Aphrodite could not bear to cleave her mother's heart by breaking the tradition. Neither could she bear their choking hold around her neck.
She held the charcoal disc over the candle, watching the black glow scarlet. She placed the red-hot charcoal in a copper bowl. Then dropped pieces of amber copal onto it, watching the smoke curl. She passed the necklace through the smoke seven times, purifying the heirloom.
She felt the sorrow of seven unhappy marriages. She felt the blows, bruises, betrayals. She heard the curses and the crying.
The string broke. Pearls scattered. She heard deep sighs of relief from those gone before.
Zannie Rose wrote and produced her first play at the age of 7. This was followed by the publication of her first short story at age 10. These days she lives in the Cornish village where Winston Graham penned Poldark. She likes to sit on the clifftop stone bench dedicated to him, overlooking the sea, in the hope that one day Poldark ( Aiden Turner version) will come and sit next to her so they can admire the view together.
This story was shortlisted in the July 24 Monthly Micro Competition.