Sis' --Indefinite Hiatus--

Chapter Two - When Double Trouble Occurs

Sis'

© Rhandom_Gurl

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Chapter Two: When Double Trouble Occurs

"You'll be fine, alright? Just make sure you don't throw too many petals at once," Mother said, trying to reassure me, before retreating to her seat.

I nodded and gulped as I looked at the aisle. A red carpet had been rolled out, as if I was at a Hollywood Premier.

From behind me, Aunt Rosaline gave a big smile.

'You can do this!' I told myself as an encouragement, my clammy palms gripping tightly onto the handle of the woven basket filled with petals. I was trying to calm myself down, as it felt like butterflies were throwing a raging party in my stomach.

And I hated butterflies.

But that was besides the point.

Why was I so nervous?

Oh right, because I could very well mess up, being the ungraceful, awkward person I was.

As the sombre strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D (the all too common wedding tune) started playing, the bridesmaids and groomsmen began to glide down the aisle, followed by the page boy, also known as the ring bearer.

Then, it was my turn to start forward.

I walked forward quickly, plastering a smile on my face, realised that I was going too fast, and slowed down. After that, I timed my footsteps to the music, scattering petals on the floor.

Right, this is going well, perfectly fine, excellent, I thought to myself, injecting more confidence into my steps as I walked.

And as usual, I spoke to soon, or rather, thought too soon. As Murphy's law states: "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong", and I was Victim Numero Uno of that.

Yes. At that moment, the stupid dress decided that it would be a brilliant idea to start causing my skin to itch as the procession made its way down the aisle.

I was screaming internally as the itch grew stronger and stronger, the coarse fabric irritating my skin. On my back. The worst place to have an itch (besides your butt crack, but let's not delve into those details) because it was the hardest to reach.

Especially during a wedding procession.

There I was, holding the feeble smile on my face, but inside I was dying. The itch was actually burning.

And I had to scratch it.

I finally succumbed to the temptation of relieving that accursed itch, and as discreetly as possible, reached behind and tried to claw at the area in question.

Of course, how does one surreptitiously claw at their back during an uninterrupted wedding procession?

The answer was of course: you can't. At least someone was bound to notice. Fortunately for me, no one said a thing, even as I missed the spot and was twisting myself in an awkward position, all the while trying to appear normal (and failing utterly), just to get at that itch. The show went on...

...if at that moment, mishap number two had not happened.

As my attention had been divided, most concentrated on Operation Relieve Itch, I had not focused on my walking. And as probably seen before in many instances, I was a complete klutz on these high heels, tripping myself up many times.