If you read my other work you'll find out more on why this piece is written. [http://life-without-creativity-is-normal.blogspot.com/]
Please take no offence from this piece. It is purely fiction and is not meant to offend anyone. I do not know if all of this is true as my research on the subject brought little information.
Mustala looked out her window and deep into the night sky. The stars above glittered across the sky in a painting of ancestral eyes. She thought back to her day. her mother and father had earlier stated she was to prepare for her wedding starting the next morn. It would be a long, pain-stacking task of prepare. Each day she would be stripped of every impurity until her skin was reddened raw. she would not eat the day before her wedding to avoid any embarrassment.
Her last moment of childhood ended when the sun rose. With a sigh she undressed from the sacred cloth that enveloped her, her body, her spirit, her youth and innocence. She let out a throaty sigh as the cool night air graced her body in a loving embrace. Resting her head upon the cloud that was her dream, she drifted off into the nights sleepy calling.
She awoke early the next morning, the sun barely peeking over her window ledge. Quickly, she dressed in the color chosen for the third day before her wedding, blue. Just as her father waling in, she covered her face in flawless grace.
"Mustala, it is time to begin."
"Yes father." She did not look up at him as she started past him. She stifled a gasp when he touched her shoulder.
"...Happy 16th Birthday, Mustala." In shock and awe she stole a hidden glance at him.
"Thank you, father." He nodded and left. Quickly, hoping to hide her delight at her fathers kindness, she rushed to the purity room where her mother awaited her.
Her purity, her torture, began.
The three days had passed quickly. her body swore and her hand on her growling stomach, Mustala looked to the stars once again. Looking into the glittering ancestral eyes that seemed to be her only hope, she prayed to Ala. She had never met her husband to be, she wouldn't meet him until it was too late to back out. Not that she would ever have the choice of backing out.
Small trails of semi-dry tears were vibrant against her deep brown eyes. The stars, her hope, slowly disappeared as the sun awoke upon the wedding day. Mustala was already dressed in her black garb, awaiting the final purification. her door slowly creaked open and she looked up as her mother entered. Silently, the two embraced. Tears flew from her mothers eyes, making Mustala's stop. She became still and clingy, like she had turned to stone by her mothers rare emotion.
When the embrace ended the two went for the last time to the purification room
As she was brought to the wedding chamber, the smell of desert roses engulfed her. For a moment her mind flashed to her childhood friend, Behalan. Quickly, she corrected herself. She was not to think of another man on her wedding day. She stood upon the alter of Ala by her father. A sly smirk was on his lips as he called the groom in.
Mustala almost lost her footing when she saw him.
Tears welded in her eyes as her long time love walked up to her.
On that day, Mustala married Behalan Alhe.