By Farah Salam
The halls of the manor appeared to be filled with water, clear and crisp. The geometric and rust-colored tiles appeared cleaner, and the table set with the mustard flowers held on to its place.
On the fifth floor of the manor, a wedding took place. It would have been traditional, in another country of another world. Today, it was romanticized. Ochre flowers littered the floor, covering the seemingly clean floor, drops of magenta carelessly splatted on the petals. The floor was lit up, music invading the space and entering the main floor of the manor.
There were children laughing, playing, throwing candies into the bouquets meant for the guests. Scarcely covered with her lace veil, the bride was adorned with bright crimson clothing and semiprecious manmade jewels. Her husband-to-be was a dashing man wearing silks of an emperor, and he grinned widely. Upon seeing his grin, the bride smiled, attempting to be inconspicuous, but failed.
The wedding guests twittered around, astonished that the groom’s family lived in such a place. They blessed the groom and his family and the bride and her family. Mothers with younger daughters attempted to find the elusive younger brother of the groom, hoping that he would consider marrying into their families. Perhaps he would marry all of the young daughters. After all, there was enough room in the mansion…
The ceremony continued, and pale faced children ran around the manor. They ran to the fourth floor, hoping to sneak sweets from the family kitchen. The more expensive chocolates and fruits were locked away on a lower level, but the children did not care.
The adults, like their children, picked up small trinkets and hid them in their bags and pockets. Wolfish smiles emerged, carnivorous for trinkets and baubles. No one noticed, because no one cared.
Eventually, they left, leaving nothing but ochre petals on the floor and a smiling bride and groom.