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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1966960-The-man-with-the-badluck-complex
by brom21
Rated: E · Other · Other · #1966960
A superstitious man finds himself wishing for the end of Friday the 13th.
A man walked through a wide hallway wearing an old suit with sweat marks around his armpits. His hair was a mess and he moved cautiously as not to step on any cracks in the tiles that led into the psychiatrist’s office.  He sweat nervously making frequent stops to check where his feet were.  A few people that walked through the hall took notice of his eccentric behavior.  A man eyed him oddly and he reacted offensively.

  “What’s the matter sir, do I look like sideshow?” 

  The man pulled back then quickly looked away and walked off.

  The strange person finally made it to the office door without stepping on any cracks. He then wiped the sweat off his brow and sighed.  “So far so good,” he said slightly out of breath.  He crossed his chest at the door and entered.

  “Lucas, how are you?”

    “Not so good. Today is Friday the thirteenth, the worst of all days. If I can just make it until midnight I’ll feel much better,” he said as he sat in a chair.

    “Have you been taking your medication?”


    “I’m telling you, it will help if you just stick to it.”

    “You don’t understand, evil forces are everywhere and even more so today.” Lucas answered.

    The psychiatrist took a pair of glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes in a tired manner and took a deep breath. 

      “Lucas, you have to learn to be more compliant. I cannot help you if you do not cooperate.”

      “If you only knew,” Lucas said ardently.

        “Oh, for the love of crap,” the psychiatrist said under his breath.

      “I heard that?”

        “Oh I have to go to the bathroom, that’s all.”

        Lucas looked at the clock behind him.

        “I have to get to my car at exactly 2:15pm. Any later and the langoliers will curse me.”

        “What’ a  langolier?” the psychiatrist asked with his left eyebrow lifted.

        “No time, I have to go.  I’ll call you to set my next appointment.”

  Lucas jerked his arm forward to shake his caretaker’s hand. He shook  it once with a trembling grasp then shot up and darted out of the office.

“Maybe I could refer him to another psychiatrist.  A few more sessions and I’ll need a one too,” he said after Lucas left.

  Lucas stopped abruptly looking at the floor with wide eyes.  “What can I do?”

  Then he spotted an elderly woman in a wheelchair next to the door.  He stared at her with a thought that brought him guilt for thinking it. 

  “I don’t care; I have to get to my car. He looked down at the woman and addressed her.

  “Excuse me mam, but one of the doctors needs to use your wheelchair to carry a patient to the examination room and there are none left.  Could you stand for a few minutes? You’ll have it right back”

  “Oh, certainly.”

    The woman was so kind he could not help but feel guilt. She stood up and once she had done so, he jerked the chair to him then sat in it and drove as fast as his arms could turn the wheels. He sped over all the cracks and made it to the exit.  He stood up and peered behind him and saw the woman wide eyed in confusion.  He stepped out of the building and began walking to his car. A man that strolled beside him sneezed.

  “Oh. No what do I do if I get some kind of fatal virus! It is the thirteenth.”

    He put his coat over his nose and mouth.  Then he noticed a black cat coming from the right. He sprinted forward to get past the black omen before it crossed him. When he done so he noticed an old woman dropped her purse under an A-frame latter.

    “Sir could you pick up my purse? I have a back problem.”

    Lucas froze and the woman waited for a response. 

    “Sir?” she said.

    He looked around and saw his salvation.  It was a man selling umbrellas at a kiosk.  When he was not looking, Lucas sneaked one of them out of a pile then reached out with the umbrella and snagged the purse with the handle.

  “There you go madam. Good day.” 

    When he got to his car, he peered around to see anyone who was following him. Lucas got in and looked for his rabbit’s foot franticly.

    “Where is it?”

    Then he noticed a lump pushing behind him. He stuck his hand down his seat and pulled it out.  Lucas relaxed.  As he was about to start his engine he remembered his salt shaker.  He pulled it out if the glove compartment and dashed some salt over each shoulder.  As he drove home he tried to not look at anyone to avoid the evil eye that might curse him.  Finally he made it home with no sign of bad luck and walked upstairs. There was four hours until midnight.  He quickly fell asleep on his couch and woke up at exactly 11:59pm. Lucas was jubilant.

  “Its’ over, I’m safe.”

  Satisfied that all was well, he went to take out the trash. He took one step down his staircase then lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs with trash that fell out of the bag. He hit the bottom of the floor, breaking his leg. He held it in pain and cursed the staircase.

  “If I would have held out until one more minute the bad luck would not have caused me to fall!” 

    A neighbor saw him on the floor and rushed to him and kneeled down.

  “Sir are you Okay?”

    “Don’t ask, it will only make things worse.”       

© Copyright 2013 brom21 (ion_7 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1966960-The-man-with-the-badluck-complex