Many, many years ago, in a small village, there lived to young men. They were as close as two people could be. Some referred to them as brothers, but they shared a different sort of bonded love. Because of how close they were to each other, neither young man had married by the time all the other young people in town had married. They were more than content in each other’s company.
One day, one of the young men became terribly sick. His partner was right by his side every second, waiting on him hand and foot. Even the strong bond the young men shared was not enough to stave off the inevitable coming of death.
Many months after mourning the loss of his partner, the still living young man met a young woman whose time he enjoyed sharing. The two grew close, and about a year later, they made the decision to be wed.
On his way to the place where he would marry his bride, the man passed by the cemetery where his first love was buried. He decided to stop and pay his respects.
(Jay's Grave on Wikimedia)
Sitting in front of his partner’s grave, the man talked about his new engagement. He sat there for many minutes, telling old stories and new. At the end of his talk, he stood and looked over the grave. As he turned to leave, he spoke: “Comrade, dear. I invite thee to my wedding.” He knew he would never marry this woman here his partner still living, but he liked to think his partner would like to see him happy now.
As soon as the young man spoke these words, the grave shifted and began to open. From the hole, the dead man rose up. He smiled, as much as he could, and responded: “Thanks be to thee, love. Let us act upon this happy chance. Come into my new home and drink in celebration with me.”
The living man was surprised and he explained that the entire wedding procession was waiting for him.
“Eh, dear! Surely you can spare a moment for one last drink with me,” the dead man replied.
The living man thought for a moment. He had heard stories of people drinking with the dead. Every glass was rumored to make a hundred years of time pass. As he looked to his fallen partner, he remembered the time they had spent together, and how he had wished many times he could spend just one more day together.
One could argue a hundred years is better than a day.
The living man looked back to the gate of the cemetery where his procession was waiting for him, and he turned his back to them and stepped into the grave.
“Surely, you know what this means?” the dead man questioned him.
The living man smiled and answered him, “I do.”
(Festival Meadow Drinking Glass on maxpixel)
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Author's Note: In the original story, the two friend promise each other that whoever gets married first will invite the other to his wedding, even if the second man dies. One young man does die, and the living man goes on to get engaged. The day of his wedding, the living man passes by his friends grave and invites him to the wedding. The dead man raises up and thanks his friend, inviting him in for a quick drink. The living man accepts, thinking it will not take very long for one drink. The has three drinks, and three hundred years pass by. When he emerges, everything is different. He eventually makes it to a town where someone explains that three hundred years ago, a groom went missing, never to marry his bride.
In my story, I wanted to change the relationship between the two men. They are lovers, and the living man consciously chooses to spend however many hundreds of years with his partner, instead of getting married.
Wow, Oliver. I really liked this story! It has such a beautiful tone to it. Your writing is wonderful and has great imagery in it. I did not read the original, but your note has a great explanation. I like the changes you made, especially leaving it like you did. I like that you made him aware of all the time that will pass and yet he chooses to drink with his friend again.
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