“You delete a chain email that says if you don’t forward it to ten people, you will have bad luck for ten years. On your way out of the office, a black cat passes you. Then you find a parking ticket on your car. And, to top it off, your car won’t start. Was it actually the email? Write your response to the bad luck, as well as other ensuing events that make you wonder about hitting the delete button.”
-Writer’s Digest Creative Writing Prompt: Don’t Delete Chain Mail
The clock says 4:57: almost quitting time. One last email check… what’s this? That chain email again? I’ve deleted it three times this week. Now the last person was paralyzed in a car crash and the one before that had her house burn down? Delete- again!
Quitting time! I’ll just gather my things and be off.
The elevator is dead. I broke a heel earlier, so I’m in my emergency sandals, which makes the stairs much easier.
The glass door to freedom opens and I breathe in the crisp air. I can’t wait for fall, with all those red leaves. Summer is nice, but some more color would be nice too. Then there will be snow- I just love snow. And the spring buds will come after that…
“Oh! Sorry!” There I go again, all absent-minded. I almost toppled that man over. Wait, what’s that? “Oh! How did you get up there?” The malnourished black kitten mewls at me from the tree and clings to me as I bring him down from his perch. “You’re lucky I found you, little guy!” I did just lose Oscar two days ago… and my apartment’s lease allows a cat. “I think I’ll call you Providence.” He purrs; I think he likes it.
We walk to my car to find a ticket. I forgot to renew my parking pass today! Oh well; I’ll just pay the fine and get the pass tomorrow. But for now… “Let’s go home, little buddy.”
Apparently Providence gets carsick… everywhere. I’m not sure what he survived on, but it certainly isn’t pleasant coming out. Providence is too curious for the windows to be down; I don’t want him to get hurt. Luckily, my apartment isn’t far away.
I’ll just let my car air out… get Providence cleaned up… some nice kitty food… here’s your potty … and… time for the car-scrubbing of the century. Looks like someone took my car’s music player; good thing it’s dead. Providence’s mess must have kept them from taking the car.
Oh no! I don’t have any dinner… I don’t want to have to drive in this stinking car… I guess I’ll get my walk in for tonight a little early.
Oh no, a mugger! I knew I shouldn’t have taken the ally shortcut. It’s a good thing I don’t have my purse! I only have $100 to give the mugger, but he’s satisfied.
I’m just too exhausted to bother trying to get dinner now. I’ll just go home and curl up with little Providence. Even if he did crap on my duvet and barf on my pillow, he’s my new little angel…
“It is she, the Optimist!” some dark thing hissed, hidden from sight by the dark veil of the underworld. “The contract of misfortune breaks with her!”
“We could keep trying,” his portly companion suggested with a lazy shrug. “I’m sure we can break her.”
The lithe demon hissed. “That’s what you said about Job, and look how that turned out!”