Vignette:A Mursian Wedding

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A Mursian Wedding
Polnikolf, Bonamech, Mursland

“Emmanouil,” shouted Fialova. The bride was gesturing for her groom to come stand beside her.

“We gotta do this!” she smiled.

He could not resist her on moments like these, so he obliged.

“We? Me, you mean,” he whispered to her as he stood beside her.

“Well, yeah.” She pauses for a second. “But my father insisted.”

“It’s a weird tradition you guys have going”

“Tradition is tradition, be happy that it is not a requirement to marry anymore.”

“But your father won’t make it any easier for me.”

“Don’t worry about it, just try your best.”

There he stood, the old man in front of him with the always stern look. His beard obstructed most of his face, but you could tell by his eyes that he never smiled. That is, until this moment. Like little candles, they glistered with joy. Emmanouil has rarely wanted to not do something this much in his life.

“Ready?” the father sternly shouted across the field.

Fialova gave Emmanouil a quick kiss on the cheek, bid him success, and took a few steps back to give him space. The groom undid his jacket, handed it to his best mate, and got in a position as if he was to run the 100m track.

“Yes sir.”

A small pause. The murmuring on the field quiets down. The audience, consisting not only the invitees of the wedding, but also some pedestrians who happened to notice what was going down, stared with their full attention. Only Emmanouils younger brother was making noise, trying to quietly explain to his confused mother what is happening.

“Come at it,” the father says.

He does not appear to bend or kneel down. Despite that, Emmanouil starts to run towards his soon-to-be father-in-law anyway. The cranky man will have to bow at some point, right? He is getting awfully close now. Emmanouil closes his eyes, and leaps. He holds his breath for what is to come. His hair waves in the wind. The crowd is totally silent. It appears even traffic has stopped for a second on the main road. Curiosity takes over, and he opens his eyes. Mr. Marinou is beneath him. It appears he has dodged him at the last possible second by dropping himself on the ground.

As Emmanouil lands on his feet, the spectators go wild. People flock to the groom, congratulating him, raising him on their shoulders. The celebrations can get started!

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