A TALE OF FIVE FINGERS 1- SARAH BARBS

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A TALE OF FIVE FINGERS

THE ICY FINGER

10TH DECEMBER 2014

There was a belief or a tale which proved that a single vein connected our left third finger straight to our heart.

If anyone told Sarah barbs that; She'd laugh in your face and ask why you don't die when someone cuts it off. She usually said that out of spite and anger. At the age of twenty nine, she had been engaged four times to sleazy bastards who end up dumping her when they find out 'divorcing' was against her beliefs.

She wasn't religious, not at all but she knew divorcing someone wasn't just right. If you met, went on a few dates, fell in love, got engaged and then went through the struggle of having a wedding with vows in which you would say before basically everyone you knew then why do you go through the stress of fighting, yelling and then ruining the point of your whole wedding? It was pointless.

She sat alone in yet another December wedding, a champagne flute in her hand and the desperate desire to yank her platinum blonde locks out of her skull.

It seems the bride was running a bit late and she just couldn't help but scoff. That was the sign of ultimate doom. First she'd arrive late and then the groom would probably forget his vows. He'd try to wing it but fail terribly and then they'd wrap up the disastrous wedding in a flash.

Oh she couldn't wait to get the news of their divorce in a few months, a few weeks if she was lucky.

Loud murmuring filled her ears and as expected, the pianist flipped his tail coat backwards, straightened his back and took his seat right in front of the flimsy excuse for a piano.

His hairy fingers began playing the classic 'Here comes the bride' tune and Sarah couldn't help but snort.

Couldn't they have spiced it up a bit? It was in fact the tenth of December. Everybody's thoughts were clouded with Christmas vacations, holiday trips, school holidays, eggnog and of course Figgie pudding. No one was going to remember the wedding if it was minor and.. mediocre. She expected bride maids dressed as elves, ring bearers wearing Christmas hats and, just spit balling here but maybe a grand mistletoe above the alter where they would kiss.

Naomi; The bride who might she add was a boring librarian with a foot fetish walked down the isle in an extraordinarily vintage gown. The sleeves where extremely puffed, the length was by her ankle and the hem was ragged, She looked a mess.

Sarah didn't understand why she even got an invitation to this crappy wedding. The wine was cheap, The bridesmaids looked extremely ridiculous in matching hairstyles and ribbons to go with it, the chairs were extremely small and uncomfortable, the guests dressed like they were going to see a rodeo clown and a bearded gymnast get married on the top of a moving train.

She barely even knew Naomi. She could count on one hand, how many times they had a complete conversation. When she was looking for a proper cooking book at the library, When Naomi tried to get fashion advice from her, When she caught Naomi trying to tweeze her brows and finally when Naomi gave her the Wedding invitation.

Sarah couldn't deny it hurt to know a thirty three year old hairy, boring, lonely librarian could snatch a man before her even if the said man was currently inhaling from his asthma inhaler as his soon-to-be wife drew closer to him.

Sarah rose to her feet as the priest started on his 'dearly beloved' speech.

She shot a fake apologetic smile at Naomi from across the hall before walking to the coat bearer. "Hi, I would like my faux fur coat please." She tried sounding sweet but her words dripped with boredom.

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