Flash Fiction: April 29, 2025
The writing prompt: A story that takes place over the course of a single day.
4:21 a.m. It’s an absurd hour to be awake. I’m supposed to be excited about “The Big Day,” but I have so little compassion for myself at this point that it’s hard to even imagine. I text Chuck to tell him I love him, but I don’t expect an immediate reply. I know grooms have to get ready, too.
6:16 a.m. I’ve managed to brush my hair just enough to look like I just rolled out of bed. My sisters and mother will have no choice but to believe it when they barge in here in a few moments. I added some color to my cheeks to hide my pale complexion, but I barely look put-together—just alive enough to mask my hangover from last evening.
8:01 a.m. Julie was the first to enter the bridal suite. My little sister is now putting up my hair in between her tears of joy. She’s done nothing but tell me how much she loves Chuck and can’t wait for him to become a part of the family. The tension I feel as she strings pearl beads throughout my blonde locks leads me to believe otherwise.
10:23 a.m. My mother has done nothing but fret over my gown since arriving at the bridal suite. Something about wrinkles and too much lace. I can overhear my older sister, Karen, talking to Julie about Chuck and his groomsmen. Her tone of voice leads me to believe it’s a serious conversation. I finally catch a few words within earshot. Drunk. Prudish. Late. They must’ve seen me stiffen in my chair. Their voices have eased into whispers.
1:32 p.m. It's less than an hour before I walk down the aisle. I finally received a reply to my text Chuck that reads, “Go get ‘em, Tiger.” The anxiety fueling my nausea is finally getting to me. Before anyone can spot me like a peacock in my snow-white gown, I run to the bathroom to spew my guts.
5:14 p.m. The line of people waiting to approach me at my dinner table seems endless. I can hardly muster a bite to eat in between thanking guests for attending. My mother has been weeping since the vow exchange. She keeps telling me how beautiful I looked when I walked down the aisle. Truthfully, I don’t remember a single moment of it.
6:32 p.m. It’s time for our first dance, and Chuck is already slurring his words. I pray that his muscle memory kicks in when it comes time to catch me in his arms.
8:22 p.m. My sisters have been fighting with each other since we sliced the cake, and I don’t care to ask why. I’ve been focused on how I’m going to get through my wedding night with Chuck. Since the champagne toast, he’s had nothing but rum and Cokes.
11:46 p.m. Guests are finally saying their goodbyes. My mother left three hours ago. Some of the groomsmen are joking with me on their way out. Chuck is upstairs in the wedding suite, waiting for me, his Best Man says. I have one cigarette left in my evening purse, stashed away in case of emergency. I’m going to make my way toward the exit, too, and I might never look back.