Taylin Stuns from Basque - Love Stories

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Taylin stuns mourners at her husband’s funeral.

Basque - Give Some Love This Christmas!


Taylin Stuns

They tell me talk is cheap. Well, that appears to be the case. If you believe the news headlines accompanying the hot Instagram shots of beauties clogging up my feed. Crawling expositions, such as:

Michelle wows in figure-hugging outfit in candid new snap.

Cindy displays endless legs in thigh-split silk dress.

Sofia floors fans as she poses in white bikini and diamonds.

Amanda causes a stir in skinny jeans.

Rebel looks phenomenal in orange catsuit – and fans are obsessed.

Kelly showcases incredible figure in hot pink dress.

Zoey’s abs must be seen to be believed.

Davina stuns in sheer dress and underwear.

Holly stuns in elegant black gown.

They clearly haven’t met Taylin.

Taylin really knows how to stun.

Taylin stuns us all with her beautiful face. She’s lost weight. She looks incredible. Her ash grey eyes are clear and shiny. Her tears have dried. The bruises have gone. Her skin complexion is perfect, her turned-up nose delightful. She turns to face us. I see she’s wearing poppy red lip gloss, my favourite.

Briefly, she glances up at the video camera mounted on the far wall, watched by an impatient, expectant world. Her husband looks down on her, unable to let her rest in peace, even in death.

Annabel, one of the new breeds appointed by the clergy, graciously nods her head. Taylin opens her mouth.

I sit with the other 18 guests, socially distanced, in the intimate seclusion of the small woodland burial park chapel, waiting for her to speak. A blinding shard of sunlight cuts through the dewy firs, warming our grieving souls. Barney is there, fluffy-grey haired, dandruff on his mourning suit, a black tie strung loosely around his scraggy neck. We are wearing facemasks. I avert my eyes, pretending not to notice him, embarrassed by his presence, worried he might spread the word.

Scandal spreads like plague in our little hamlet.

Taylin carefully removes her fishnet mittens, picks a sheaf of papers off the lectern, and reads:

‘I would like to begin by thanking you all for the kind and moving words of comfort and support you have given me since my husband’s premature death. You’ve all paid such moving tributes to him from across the world, whether it be the world of business, where he excelled, the world of jogging, for his charitable commitments and undoubted acts of generosity, or from the Clubs. I thank each one of you from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate that, due to this ghastly bug that’s going round, most of you can’t be with me today to share my most intimate memories but I know that you’re here with me in spirit. For that Zac and I will be eternally grateful.’

She averts her gaze to Zac, her stepson, who is shifting, uneasily, in his seat in the front row,

‘Zac, you are like a son to me. I would like to thank you for your moving tribute to Dad, your stolid words of praise for him, the pride you expressed for him, until he changed. As you rightly pointed out: it was as if someone switched off the light in his mind. Thank you, darling, for all the love and kindness you’ve shown me as your stepmother. Like you, I’ll never forgive him for the despicable way he treated me.’

A murmur of alarm spreads through the chapel as Zac tears off his mask, bursts into tears, and runs to the pulpit to embrace Taylin. The congregation, the worlds of business, charity, sports, and Clubs look on as they hug each other in full view of the camera,

‘That’s alright Mum,’ he cries, ‘I’m only sorry I didn’t catch the bastard red-handed in the act.’

Annabel is dismayed, ‘Thank you Zac, for your kindness and understanding. If you could return to your seat now, please (before you infect me), I am sure Taylin will still be able to feel your warmth and love for her from there.’

I smile proudly at Zac as he releases Taylin from his love-clinch, dons his mask, and sits down.

‘Well done Zac,’ I exclaim, under my breath.

Taylin turns her attention to me. She wants my love and support. No, she needs my support,

‘Garrett, would you like to come up and join me?’

The congregation, particularly Gerry’s friends and relations, bay and sway in silent protest.

Annabel fires a look of barely disguised irritation at me, then coos, like a dove of peace,

‘It’s alright, Garrett, you can go up to be with Taylin. Don’t forget to put on your mask when you come back down.

I stand up, survey the fools around me, then stroll up to the rostrum to be with Taylin. We hold hands. Her hands feel gravestone cold. I reach behind her, out of view, and gently rub her back.

‘Garrett,’ she reads, ‘You grew to love my husband like a brother, with your passion for motoring around the Norfolk Broads. Such happy memories: picnics on the riverbanks, liquid lunches in the local hostelries, boozy suppers at the Club, drinking in the hostel till midnight. My husband loved to drink. Then you discovered the barbaric way that he treated me and agreed never to speak to him again. Oh, maybe once, at the very end.’

Taylin grips my hand tightly, her lips quiver, and she bursts into tears. I take her in my arms to comfort her.

‘Thank you, Garrett, ‘she sniffs, ‘Thank you for all your love and kindness in my darkest hour.’

 I release Taylin from my tender embrace and put on my mask. To Annabel’s relief, I return to my seat and listen to her read,

‘My husband and I were married for seven years, too long in my opinion.’

The congregation gasps.

‘I would love to be able to stand before you all and say that I’m devastated by my loss, but I’m not. You are all familiar with his public face: kind, generous, charitable, funny, professional, a true gentleman who was loved by all. But did you know he had a dark side?

Taylin stuns.

The congregation brays collectively as she removes her high-neck black frock coat. Other than a solid nickel necklace, black stilettoes, black silk stockings, a black suspender belt, and black lace gloves, she is naked. Her body is covered in bruises. I worry she’ll catch cold. The doors to the chapel have been propped open to allow the air to circulate. Taylin is shivering. I feel for her. There is little I can do to help. I catch her eye, mouthing silently at her,

‘Put on your clothes. You’ve made your point. At least, I think you have. Put on your clothes!’

She ignores me,

‘Did you know he abused me?’

The funeral descends into uproar. Several mourners stand, shaking their fists in anger, strip off their disposable facemasks, and protest. Annabel throws her arms around like a race official trying to flag down a speeding Ferrari, desperate to establish calm, peace, order, respect, love,

‘Please! Be seated!’

We all sit down.

Taylin hasn’t finished yet,

‘Did you know he came home drunk from his boozy bashes at the Club and beat me black and blue? Well?’ she screams, performing for the camera, ‘Did you know that?’

The sense of guilt and remorse in the Chapel is palpable. Several mourners bow their heads in shame, others hold their heads in their hands and weep. The horror at Taylin’s treatment sweeps the internet. In seconds, her beautiful crying face, her bare shoulders, will appear on news feeds all over the world:

Taylin stuns mourners with semi-naked funeral protest.

‘No, of course you didn’t,’ she cries, ‘You were too busy fawning over him to care about me!’

My heart goes out to Taylin. She stoops and plucks her coat off the floor. She puts on her coat, a black satin facemask, her gorgeous fishnet-lacy mittens, collects her notes, then steps down from the rostrum. Annabel shakes her hand, wraps an arm round her shoulders, comforting her,

‘Thank you, Taylin, for that moving tribute,’ she says, ‘That must have taken an awful lot of courage,’ she turns to face us, ‘Would you please stand, if you are able?’

We all stand in silence, saluting Taylin’s bravery.

The undertakers take up positions around the coffin. The head undertaker, distinguishable by his top hat and veil, issues them with a measured order,

‘Gentlemen, if you please…’

Taylin stuns.

Throwing her body over the coffin, she grants her husband one final blessing,

‘Goodbye, Gerry…’

The whole world watches her, expectantly, impatiently.

‘…and good riddance.’

Taylin stuns me with her beautiful face. She looks incredible. Her eyes are clear and shiny. Her tears have dried. The facial bruises have gone. Her skin complexion is perfect, her turned-up nose, delightful. She turns to face me. I see she’s wearing poppy red lip gloss. My favourite.

If looks could kill…

I always knew I could kill for her.

And kill for her I did!

Submitted: November 21, 2021

© Copyright 2021 HJ FURL. All rights reserved.

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