My life was doomed to end young.
It always has been, there was no way I could change that, its just what had been written in the stars.
Except it was wrong.
There’s a pit in my stomach when I wake up.
I don’t notice it at first; i awake normally, not wanting to start my day but out of bed despite it.
I take a pee half asleep and crawl back in bed to enjoy that last moments before my alarm sounds.
Thats when the pit grows, slowly pulling at me distracting me from the last angelic moments of shut eye and yanking me full force into the daylight.
My eyes shoot to the clock, and then I’m staring wide eyes at the ceiling like it holds the answers.
I was supposed to die, but I’m alive.
I went to bed last night with no intention to awake the next morning, and now the sun is eager to greet me.
It is an oddly shocking thing to wake up to face a day you never planned for.
I raise my hand to examine my arm, the date still stands there as clear as day.
April 29th 2017, the day I was destined to die.
I have no plans, i mean why would I?
I had always been someone secretive with my date. I guess when you have your date so earlier in your life It makes people reluctant to hang out with you, and the closer the date gets the less likely people are to give anything to you.
I mean, who wants to be friends with the living dead girl.
I heard of stories of people leaving children to homes because their dates would take them at the age of 7 or 12. It was easier than dealing with the heart break.
I wanted to be “normal” so bad, to be one of the people’s whose date was in there 60s or 70s.
So I lied about my date. What harm could it do once I was gone? In the mean time I could live the life i wanted without being penalized.
I could be normal for however many days I had left.
So when I woke up, i thought i must have gotten so used to lying that I forget my real date.(386 words)
Prompt: Everyone has the date they’re meant to die tattooed on there wrist. Yours was yesterday.