art by Ron Sanders
by Brian Trent
During the wedding in Niantic Falls, people tried not to look at the white light in the sky. The overcast heavens reflected on the lake like a massive gray mirror, but the grassy embankment where the wedding party assembled seemed as bright as emerald. Even the pale lawn chairs glowed softly.
There had been some discussion of dispelling with the tradition of keeping brides' side and grooms' side separate, particularly since the two groups were so wildly uneven. A full hundred attendees crowded the chairs on the brides' side of the green hill. They gazed wonderingly across the aisle to the mere two dozen guests of the grooms who had come to their lakeside village.
Adding to the wonder were the manners of the visitors. Their antics bordered on the bizarre. One frail old guest was heard muttering, "The water! The basin is filled with so much water!" Others continually sniffed at the flower arrangements and marveled at fruit platters and the musicians in the nearby gazebo. The grooms themselves were more discreet, but still odd. They were, despite their sharp suits (given and fitted to them that morning by the town as part of the arrangement) a famished, hard-tumbled lot with desperate eyes and worn skin.
"They act like they've never seen food before!" Mrs. Hastings, gossip of Niantic Falls, snorted.