FWD: FWD: This is CRAZY! He got LOADS of them right! Short Story.

Monday.

Yay!

I hope everyone had a nice weekend. Mine was pretty fun, went out for a few drinks. Twas pleasant. Beyond that I didn’t get up to much, lots of reading. It’s handy enough with my kindle, but the only problem is I have a bunch of actual books that are backed up in my to read pile. I suppose it is my own fault for reading books that are series. It’s hard when you get sucked in and need to know what’s happening next. Which is both an upside and a downside with series, particularly if you’re coming to them late. You get to do a straight run at it, until you’ve caught up, and then there’s the agony of waiting and the slight jarring feeling when you switch to another world/book. That part sucks. It’s much worse for series that have an order and are supposed to be read that way rather than ones where you can pick any book in any order and it isn’t that big of a deal besides a few minor spoilers as the author reminds the reader who a character is.

It also seems that series are getting more popular, though that just might be in my head as I’ve been reading more series than I have before.

 

On with the show!

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

It’s just so tiring you know? I don’t think a lot of people realise that. I mean, I’m out there, every day trying to help but nobody is listening. Do you know how demoralising that gets? After the first day I was ready to give up, but I couldn’t. Well, technically I could, but every time I closed my eyes I saw it again and again. When you’re given a choice like that, it really is no choice at all. I could try and do something, or I could live the rest of my short life being miserable and hating myself. That wasn’t how I wanted to spent my last few months living. Doing this isn’t what I wanted to be doing either, but hey, it’s not like it was realistic to hope I’d be somewhere hot, with lots of money and a few scantily clad women wandering around.

Am I rambling? It feels like I’m rambling.

Ok. Wait.

Ok. Let me start again.

 

I’m Stephen and I’m psychic. Not like the ones in the back of magazines or the ones that bilk people out of all their cash for snippets of hope. No, I’m the real deal. It isn’t fun, it isn’t glamorous and it isn’t all that well paying. I know, who’d have thought right? Real genuine psychic, you’d think people would line up around the block to talk to me, but they don’t. I think it’s something to do with god or the universe, something out there keeping me under the radar. Then again, I never really tried to get famous. I worked a normal job, helping people when I could. There’s a skill to it you know. You don’t just put on a spooky voice and warn people of danger, that never works and usually backfires when something does go bad and someone tells the police you were screaming that the victim was going do die a terrible, terrible death. Yeah. That wasn’t exactly my finest hour. But, I learn fast, which is something at least. So I learned manipulation is the key. That sounds a little wrong, maybe cruel, but you’d be surprised how easy it is to manipulate people into helping themselves. Of course it helps when you know the outcome. Just stalling someone with idle chat for five minutes can save them or telling them about how your distant cousin left the iron on and the house burned down. They’ll remember and then boom, their own house doesn’t burn down because they’ve remembered to turn it off. Though honest, sometimes in the midst of those super awkward convos, I do wonder if maybe I’d be better off just slashing tires or pushing them over as I run past, after all, that would slow them down too, right?

I have helped plenty of people and I’m happy about that. I even helped my last boss win the lotto, he really deserved it though, he was being ruined by medical bills. Was all kinds of sad. It’s just what I do. I don’t think I could stop hepling people, it’s like a compulsion, like when you have to touch the paint to see if it is actually wet.

 

You know I could be drinking myself to oblivion right now, do you know how fun that would be for me? That I could forget, even for a moment, what’s going to happen to us all in like, three months? I could even just end it now. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife and I don’t know how they view suicide, but hell, it’d be better than what’s coming, I can tell you that much. At least I’d go out on my own terms, ya know?

 

So, that’s me. I’m 29, I’m single and work in a dead end job and I like my life. It might not be glamorous, but it’s mine and I’ve built it up. I get paid well enough, I own my own place and I can do pretty much what I want, within reason.

I like how things are, I like my life and I know that a lot of other people like their lives too. I don’t want them to be deprived of something, I want to try and warn them, though a warning isn’t a whole lot of use. I tried to be sane about it in the beginning, work out ways of telling people that the world was going to end without sounding like a nutter is hard work though. I kinda wish I was famous, maybe then someone would believe me. Even if I just save a couple of people, it isn’t that much to ask for, is it? I mean with everything I’ve seen before this I’ve been able to affect the outcome, change it for the better, so why not this? I know I can’t prevent it, hell, who could? But maybe I can save some people, make things easier for those who do survive. If you’re wondering why I don’t just run and hide the answer is simple, I’m going to die anyway. When it happens, that’ll be it for me. I don’t know how yet, but I know that is non negotiable. I might be killed right out, or killed in the panic, hell, I might even just fall and break my neck. Either way, I’m a goner. So now it’s my duty to warn people.

 

I don’t go around waving signs, yelling at people that the end is nigh. As I’ve said, I’ve tried to be smart. There was a show, something about people preparing for doomsday, they were the ones I reached out to first. Sure, they’re already a little nuts, but hey, better to have them survive than no one, right? So I’ve let things slip here and there, made myself seem like I’m “in the know” with someone or something powerful, dropped hints and veiled warnings that something big was happening. There’s all sorts of internet conspiracies about me now you know. It’s kinda funny really. I’ve predicted stuff, some outright, others obliquely. It isn’t as hard as you think. Just little things here and there, a few of the bigger things too. It makes them think the little stuff means something, that it’s all leading up to something big and in a way it is. I’ve also contacted some of those preachers who have followings, those who predict the end of the world is coming. I do something similar with them, but make it more religious. That isn’t as easy. Trying to convince people you’re a prophet from their lord and not just some internet jack off trying to fuck with them is harder than you think. I know you’re wondering now, if I have people like that listening to me, why don’t I go public? Why don’t I do the same thing on a grander scale. I don’t want to be assassinated by some idiot who thinks I’m batting for the wrong team, I don’t want to be arrested for being a terrorist or conspiring against the government. I don’t want to end up in some bunker, a mile underground with my chest cut open and my brain sitting on a weighing scales. I mean, I know I’m going to die, but I’m not an idiot, I don’t want my last few months to be painful. So, I’m doing this instead. This seemed easiest, hey, people get stuff like this all the time right? And it works, and spreads. So I figure I’ll give this a go too. It could work.

I’ve enclosed a list of predictions, some will have no doubt already happened when you’ve opened it, but others wont have. I’ve included the big and the small. I’m not hiding behind religion or scary shadow conspiracies. This is just the truth.

The end is coming, no one can stop it. Get to safety, a bunker, store up some food, tell your kids you love them and hope that if you’re not somewhere safe when it happens, that you’ll go quickly and with little pain.

I know you have no reason to believe me, that you might think this is a virus or something like that, but scan it with your antivirus stuff, you’ll see. It’s legit. It’s also pasted into the email, but anyone can fuck with that. I’m also going to include a web address, that too will contain the predictions. I’m trying to get this to as many people as possible. Even if you think it’s some kind of joke, send it on, after all, if I’m wrong, you can all just have a laugh about the nutter that emailed you in a few weeks, right?

You have nothing to lose by sending this on.

Please.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 24 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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2 Responses to FWD: FWD: This is CRAZY! He got LOADS of them right! Short Story.

  1. Glad you had a nice weekend 🙂

    A really great piece as well, very clever!

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