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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1233087-Monday-Tuesday-Last-Day
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1233087
Flash Fiction, 600 words or less, 24 hours to live, fast food, doves, sports car
Monday, Tuesday, ..., Last Day



"So, let me see if I have this right," I said with a laugh, "I have just 24 hours left to live?"

"That's correct Mr. James." The old lady regarded me gravely. "This is a very nice tea, isn't it? The addition of the herb didn't change the fine taste, that's very important."

"Listen, you old bat." I sputtered. "This isn't funny!"

"It isn't meant to be humorous, Mr, James." She studied me carefully. "I can see it's taking effect already, your eyes are beginning to take on that wonderful shade of chartreuse. In exactly 24 hours you will cease to breathe. I believe your brain will continue to function for minutes afterwards. However, until the very minute that the 24 hours ends, you will function quite normally, just like she did." With that, she got to her feet and carefully placed her tea cup and saucer on the small table.

"But, why?" I stood looking at her angelic old face, not daring to believe.

"Glenda was my granddaughter Mr. James." She regarded me gravely, "I loved her very much, and you took her from me."

She was referring to the young woman I accidently hit crossing the street last month. Wracked with guilt after the unfortunate accident; I had come to see the old lady to offer my condolences and beg for forgiveness. Evidently, forgiveness wasn't going to be granted.

Gaping in disbelief at her serene, but wrinkled old face one last time, I stumbled from the apartment. Oh, of course I could have and should have, throttled the old bitch. Truth be told though, I deserved my fate. I had been drinking after work, something I seemed to do a lot of lately. That night, I had more than a few. I should never have been driving.

Wandering aimlessly down the street, my mind was a whirl. What would I do? How would I spend my last hours? I had no family, no real friends either. Should I make a day of it? Well, a day and a night. Should I hire a hooker, maybe two or three? Have a real old fashioned orgy? Go find a bar and go on one last short drinking binge? No, drinking was the last thing I wanted to do.

I had an urge to be where there were people though. Across the street was a McDonald's Restaurant. It was full of happy people; children playing in the playground, laughing, screaming, enjoying life.

Stupid people, I thought, they had no idea how precious life is! Maybe I should find a gun shop, then go in there and show them how short life could be? No..., I didn't want to hurt anyone.

Maybe go over and have a last meal? Wouldn't a hamburger, fries and a Coke be a fitting last meal for someone with no life?

Sure, why not? Hell, maybe engage some of the kids in a rousing food fight! What could they do, kill me?

While crossing the mostly empty street, I heard a whooshing sound overhead. Looking up, I saw a flock of white doves in sudden flight. I never saw the shiny red sports car though. As I lay in a crumpled heap in the street, I had to smile at the justice of it all; though I guessed the old woman couldn't technically be considered a murderer now!
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1233087-Monday-Tuesday-Last-Day