The Big Day

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story of a man waiting for the one day that will finally bring him happiness and peace.

Submitted: February 18, 2014

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Submitted: February 18, 2014



The Big Day

“Tomorrow is the big day”

The words echoed in Jim’s head for moment, and it was only then he realized they were not his own. His mother stood behind him with the sort of smile he hadn’t seen since he was a young boy. It was  a smile reserved for mothers who were proud of their sons, and he hadn’t made his mother proud for a long time, he thought,  though not for a lack of trying.

“Yes, tomorrow is the big day” he repeated

He had had this thought every few minutes since he woke up this morning, woke up from what he could hardly even call a nap, as sleep the night before had been as elusive as always. He hated the night. Throughout his life he had always lay awake in bed as the others around him dreamt dreams of pleasure and joy. Dreams he had never had.

He remembered college and how Big Ben, his sometimes roommate, would snore so loud he swore he would burst a blood vessel.  Jim looked forward to the days when Big Ben would pass out drunk elsewhere, or when he would stay with one of the fay sorority girls, that if you asked Ben, girls he never slept with. He remembered those nights, alright, nights spent remembering. ….

“Jim!” His mother called his name in a sharp and concise manner, shaking him from his memory.

“We have to pin the corsage on your chest” she said, still in the concise, almost nasty tone she used to snap him out of his daydreams.

“I don’t know why she insists on having me wear this” he said, “It reminds me of prom”

“Oh how you hated that prom” his mother replied

His mother knew full well how Jim had loathed the idea of prom. What she didn’t didn’t know was why.

His father had spent the weeks leading up to it, the prom of Castle Rock High, taking more notice of his son than he had in years, in fact, the most since he was 7. Or at least he felt that way. Those years, around the time he began second grade , when he first started losing sleep, always seemed to be in the front of his mind.

“Gonna get some of that wet wet for the first time boy”! said his father, more times then he could remember in the weeks leading up to prom. He would ask his son to come run trivial errands with him, seemingly just to repeat this phrase again and again. The truck bouncing so much he swore at any moment it would fall apart. His father seemed to have it in his head that prom was going to be the night when his only son joined him in manhood.

What his father didn’t know, is that Sarah Jenkins, Jim’s date, repulsed him. She wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t attractive either. She was the type of girl who would have been perfect for a guy like Jim.


 A guy who had never drawn the attention of women, and the type of guy who always just seemed to be in the middle. Average.  Just a normal girl. For a normal guy. Normal, he thought………..  ‘What the fuck was normal?’

“JIM!” his mother snapped. She was growing increasingly angry. “Focus, tomorrow is the your big day and it is almost time for dinner”.

The rehearsel dinner for his wedding was starting in a few minutes, and he would likely now be late because of his daydreaming. Something that happened almost every day of his life since kindergarten. Staring off into space would become his trademark over the coming years. It had even almost killed him a few times. Once driving down the old road to his parents house, the same road his fathers truck used to bounce up and down. He had lost himself in the most vivid type of memory, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he thought about his childhood, and about his father and Uncle Brian. And about the basement…….

He looked up, and had he looked up even a half a second later, it would have all been over. The giant elm directly at the end of his parents driveway took up half the road, and anyone coming up that way would always remark at how it seemed to almost jump out at you. He came to a screeching halt. Anyone else would have been terrified, but he was as calm as ever. Almost disappointed he had seen the tree soon enough……

The dinner was going rather uneventfully. Darla, his wife to be, loved being the center of attention and this was the type of night she was at her finest. Fielding questions about what type of flowers would be at the tables, and about every other trivial detail of the ceremony that was quickly approaching the following day.

He glanced around the table. His cousin Rod, was staring off into space across and to the left from him, seated next to his father, Brian. Rod was the only person that seemed more vacant at times than Jim. And Jim thought he knew why.

His Aunt Donna, his mother sisters and best friend, squealed with delight as dessert was brought out. She was always a fat, piggy women, and with her advancing  age this was only highlighted. She had recently taken to wearing bright colors and bright red lipsticks, in his opinion this was a full blown attack against father time, and it only drew MORE attention to this heffer of a woman.

Next to him, his best friend and best man, Doug, rolled the cannoli on his plate back and forth like a rolling pin over dough. He seemed disinterested in this whole process, and barely batted an eyelash at the announcement of the wedding and when Jim asked him to be the best man. Jim felt that Doug knew what it was all about, though that was only speculation.

“Baby, can you pass me the cream”? his fiancée cooed.  Jim looked up and the cream was a full three seats away. He immediately knew she was just trying to get his attention. Asking him for something trivial was something she often did when he seemed lost in thought. When she wanted attention. Which was always.  

He didn’t love her, and he knew she didn’t love him. She was likely marrying him for the fortune she knew he would inherit one day. His father owned a chain of hobby shops across Louisiana, and they had recently been bought by the corporate giant,Hobby Time, for a handsome sum.  Jim parents were now worth in excess  10 million dollars, and as they were an older couple when Jim was born, they were aging rapidly and the fortune would soon be Jims. He never cared for material things, and growing up he was far from spoiled. His father had grown up poor and wanted to make sure no son of his was spoiled. His wife on the other hand, had expensive taste, like his mother,  and she was eager to please Jim’s mother, almost to the point of being obvious.


Jim had met Darla back in college, back at Dartmouth where he spent so much time staring at his dorm room ceiling . She had been at a party one night, a party Big Ben dragged Jim too even though he knew Jim would hated parties. Jim had sat in a corner all night, lost in his daydreams, when a woman everyone would later refer to as beautiful and stunning, though Jim never understood these words, tugged on his sleeve.

“You ok there, cowboy”? she asked. This must have been a reference to the long sleeve flannel shirt he was wearing at the time. He had never been much for fashion, and would often wear the most mismatched clothing, not knowing that no sane person would wear such attire.

“I’m fine” he replied. It was a question he was asked almost everyday by SOMEONE, as he stared off into space, and as he grew older, he became angrier and angrier when someone pulled him from his daydreams.

“Here, have a drink and loosen up” she cooed, in a voice he would later come to loathe. It wasn’t that anything about her was even remotely annoying, it was just that Jim was Jim. And Jim didn’t ike to be interrupted. 

Jim took the shot, some cheap tequila, and it DID loosen him up. So much so that he and Darla spoke late into the evening.  By the end of the evening, he felt her attraction to him. He could recognize emotions in other people that he never felt himself. It was an attraction he would later capitalize on. For he had a plan, and for this plan he would need a woman such as this. He thought to himself, “she will be perfect for the big day”

Here they sat, no more than two years later. She was staring blankly at him. He had totally forgot what she asked him.

“What did you ask again, babe” he said.

“The CREAM, Jim” she had a tone he knew all too well. He had been staring through her for what felt like hours, but he knew to be only seconds. Darla and his mother exchanged glances. Darla smiled, but his mother only half smirked and looked back at Jim.

His mother had hoped that when her and her husband arrived at the airport in Houston, Darlas home city, that her son would be different. Somehow changed by the time spent with a beautiful young woman. She needed that she had thought to herself. Time away from the home where he grew up. Time away from his father, who had at first, seemed to be the best dad a kid could ask for. Up until the time Jim was around 7, when his fathers interest in his son peaked, and then sharply declined. Before then, he and his son seemed inseparable. They would spend hours at the local lake, many times with her husbands brother, Brian, fishing and drinking together while teaching Jim how to thread a fishing lure, or how to clean a fish for cooking.

They would also spend hours in the basement, where her husband had his workshop. Her husband had owned a chain of hobby shops, stemming from his own fascination with model cities and trains. The two would spend what seemed like weeks on end in the basement, painting small houses and talking about what route this or that train would take through the small city they were building together.  Her husband even had a bed downstairs, where before Jim was bornShe would find him fast asleep. Sometimes with one of the miniature trees or cars still clutched in his hand.

But something had happened a few days before Jim was to start the second grade. Father and son had stopped talking almost overnight. Her son would come home from school, and immediately run upstairs, seemingly avoiding all contact with her husband, and often times, herself. He would spend hours staring up into the map of the galaxy on his ceiling. Around this same time, her husband and his brother Brian had a major falling out, and also stopped talking. She spent many years after lost a=in tought about what had seen that night in the basement, and about the chaos that followed. Brain had frantically left the house, and Jim had ran up to his bedroom. She had never meant to disturb them, and because she rarely wandered into the basement, they hadn’t expected her arrival, with two beers and a tray of cookies and milk for her son. She just stood, there, tray of beer and milk in hand as the scene in front of her unfolded. A different woman may have reacted differently, Jim’s mother had expensive taste, and would never risk losing the large house and fortune she had access too.

She may not have known, but Jim never forgave her for her inaction.

“A Toast”, Brian stood up with his champagne glass in hand. It was Brians mothers turn to be snapped out of a deep train of thought.

“Too my nephew, it’s been too many years since this family has been in the same room, and heres to the big day that will bring a family back together” He rested his hand on his brothers shoulder. Jim saw this, and instantly shuddered. He father resisted the urge to jerk away, and instead raised his own glass.

‘CHEERS’ said the room, and they all drank deeply on the expensive champagne Jim parents had purchased for this very special evening.

It was almost time, and Jim was preparing. Darla slept quietly next to him, and as always, he marveled at how soundly this woman could sleep. She had exclaimed earlier at how she looked forward to their wedding night, as this would be the first time they would make love.

“It’s going to be wonderful” Jim replied, as she mentioned this event to him earlier in the evening, right before she fell asleep. Jim knew she was likely far from excited, as she was no stranger to sex. During college she had been with a few of the athletes, and Jim knew he would never bring her close to the pleasure she may have felt with those types of men.

He had converted to Catholiscism earlier the year before. Right before him and Darla became serious. He had done this as part of his plan, because he knew if Darla began to understand how Jim really was, she might not say yes.

So to avoid any possibility of akward sex and Darla heading for the hills, he converted and claimed he would lose his virginity on his wedding night. He was a 25 year old virgin, but to him, this was not in the least bit unusual.

Jim stood in the mirror. Staring blankly, he remembered why he had to this. That night in the basement had robbed him of what might have been. It robbed him of the ability to love the beautiful woman in the opposite room. It robbed him of the ability to love and care, and even of the ability to gain an erection. An affliction that never really bothered him, as you don’t need the ability to love or make love when you live your life in a day dream.

But he knew that this was not the way you were supposed to be. People had remarked his entire life at his unflinching coolness. A friends dog had been hit by a car when he was 13, and while the family weeped and sobbed, Jim only stared at the dead animal. Not overly taken aback by the gore, he just didn’t care. It was then he realized he was different for good. That he would never feel things that “normal” people felt. There it was again. Normal

“What the fuck is normal” ……..He realized he had said it aloud. He quickly glanced back into the hotel room to see if he had awoken Darla. He hadn’t, and he felt something small for the first time in days, it was relief. She slept soundly and looked so peaceful and a  better man might have had second thoughts looking at her angelic face. Not Jim.  He looked at his watch, it was 12:01. Here it was, it was time. His big day was here.

It had taken a six months to make everything happen, but here it was and Jim smiled for the first time in what felt like years. He knew his parents slept two doors down, and in the the room in between them his fat aunt Donnas television glowed in the darkness. She would be sleeping upright in the hotel chair, much as she did at her own home in the raggedy worn out recliner she called home most days.

Directly across the hall, his uncle Brian would also be sleeping, and if he wasn’t, well, it didn’t matter. Various other members of their direct family slept throughout the Houston Howard Johnson,  in various stages of the their respective slumber.


The first shot rang out with crack of a whip. Jim thought of when he saw roots for the first time as a kid, watching Kunta Kinte refuse the slave name given to him by his masters. It had been only a wounding shot. His uncle Brain leapt up, reaching down to the warm pool of blood forming around his groin.

“You fucking bastard! I should have killed you when you were a boy” the rage was quick to surface, as he faced a problem Brian thought long ago that he should nip in the bud. He long thought of sneaking into his brothers home and killing this single threat to his survival in his sleep, but his brother would allow him nowhere near the home, with threats of his own making sure of it.

“Hey Uncle Brian” Jim sneered,
“The toast earlier was beautiful, and I just wanted to thank you for making the trip” he smiled again, more malicious than the smile he had worn earlier in the mirror.

“Heres to family” and he raised the FN FAL semi automatic rifle he had bought online to his meet his aging Uncles forehead.

“Fuck……Y”, but before Brian could utter the words, his brains coated the cheap head board of room 217.

Jim looked at the rifle and thought to himself, “Everything is bigger in Texas”

Buying the rifle online had been the easiest part of the plan, they were in TEXAS  after all.

He slowly opened the door to Brians room and peeked down the hall, he worried that others would have heard the shot, and in his current mental state, anyone he came across was likely to meet an untimely end.

In two large strides he reached room 220 and slid the master keycard into the slot, the one he had bribed the security guard for earlier. He had said it was for gifts he intended to leave his family members, as thank yous for attending his big day.

The small light lit up green, allowing him access to the room.  It was dark inside, as his parents room always was. He took a few steps to the bedside, and turned on the light.

His father sat up almost immediately, and Jim quickly let another shot ring out, and again, directly into the groin of his target. His mother now awoke to the sound of her husbands agony and the shot that caused it. She gasped at the sight of her only child holding the large rifle. He didn’t appear himself. He actually looked, Happy.


“Hey mom”, Jim said softly.

“Hi son” she replied in turn. She knew why this was happening almost as fast as she realized why her son was smiling.

“You little motherfucker”  said Jims dad, as he was coming out of shock and was now moving in Jim’s direction, as quickly as a man of nearly 70 years could.

“This is my rifle dad, I named her Wet Wet” he smiled again, referring to the turn of phrase his father used to refer to Jim ‘getting some” on prom night years earlier. After raping his son in the basement, along with his brother, for the better part of Jims childhood,  Jim’s dad had really hoped his son would go on and be a ‘normal’ boy, and get laid sometime in high school.

Jim slowly took one step back, raised the rifle and sent a cartridge deep into the old mans left cheek. Another shot meant to maim, but not kill. The old mans head snapped back, and he dropped to the floor.

Jims mother sat quietly in the bed, she had pulled herself upright, but she made no attempt to run. Although she had quietly hoped this wedding was real and her son would live happily ever after, she was always a perceptive woman, and had seen her son earlier that night, lost in thought. She knew this was the first time her husband and her brother in law had been in the same room in close to 18 years, and she knew her son was as aware as she of this fact.

“I had to do it this way” he said. “Uncle Brian and dad would never have been together otherwise, and  I wouldn’t risk getting one and not other” Jim said to his mother, looking into her eyes, still half smiling.

“I just want you to know son, I’m sor-“….

“Save it mother” Jim interrupted, “I know why you never said anything, and it was just as selfish as what those two perverted bastards did to me, if not MORE.

“I love you” she said softly, knowing that he was right. She had never been able to admit what she saw that night. She couldn’t bring herself to chance the embarrassment of it. Of admitting she had caught her husband and his brother using her son like their own sexual plaything. That night in the basement had made her son into this, and she knew it every time he would stare out into, well, nothingness.

“My big day is finally here mom” and she knew he was no longer referring to the wedding which would now likely never happen, but to this massacre he had been planning since that night in the basement.

And with that he let loose, not a single shot this time, but he had switched the gun to full auto, and let at least 24 shots into his mother. By the time he let go of the trigger, his mother wasn’t moving, and later had to be indentified by her jewelry.

He turned to the old man still clinging to life on the floor. He knelt down, reaching into his back pocket and taking out a small swiss army knife.

“You gave this to me on my 14th birthday, old man, and I have saved it for this day ever since”

He opened an attachment, but not the one you would think. He left the knife in it’s designated place, and instead took the corkscrew out, and plunged it deep into the old mans forehead.  As warm blood splattered up into his face, his though how soft the mans head was. Aging is a bitch he thought to himself.

He stood up and looked at the scene of carnage before him, and he felt what he thought must be joy, for the first time since his childhood. Before his father started taking him to the basement. Before everything happened that caused all this.

“Well” he said aloud to himself, “It’s time”…….Before he placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth, he thought of his life, his seemingly normal life. And the woman in the room across the hall, and how she would later tell people she thought her fiance’ was perfectly normal.

Normal……he thought.

“What the fuck is normal”? he said, and pulled the trigger.

© Copyright 2019 Randall Chance. All rights reserved.

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