Quibbles - Short Story // A Grave Monition

Helloooo audience.

This is Quibbles, back after a month long hiatus. It's been so long, I've been busy with school and I've missed writing in this blog. I have so many ideas to share but as of now, I'm going to stall for time and post something I wrote a while ago. It's also on the "Short Stories" page of this blog, but I changed the ending. Let me know what you think!

(Also I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING, I'LL DO IT MORE OFTEN! I'M SORRY! DON'T ATTACK ME!)

(oh who am I kidding, no one reads this anyways)


Alright. Without further ado, my story.

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A Grave Monition

Prompt: At a Chinese restaurant, your character opens his fortune cookie and reads the following message: "Your life is in danger. Say nothing to anyone. You must leave the city immediately and never return. Repeat: say nothing."...

Character: Scott Nelson

Setting: Sacramento, California

There are two things I hate about my family. The first is the fact that we all tend to snore. The second thing is that nobody in my family can resist a good joke at the youngest son's expense.

I should clarify that the youngest son happens to be me.

I love my family. We’re the warmest, happiest bunch you will probably ever see in Sacramento, California. All thirteen of us are bouncier and livelier than little kids on Christmas Day. And if there are only two things I hate about us... well, that’s a pretty great compliment.

But still. Is it really necessary to bring up the yogurt incident every year at Mom’s birthday? It was an accident, and I was thirteen. Geez.

We’re here at the House of Chang feasting on moo shu pork and beef that tastes like chicken. It’s Mom’s fifty-­fifth birthday, and, as resident mathematician and brother Matt pointed out, “her tenth fibirthday!” (which happens to be portmanteau for fibonacci and birthday, according to etymologist Lanny). And, if I will have anything to do with it, we are not staying long enough for Megan to mention the yogurt incident, however good the Chinese food is.

Fortunately, the waiter is quickly approaching with a bill and a large platter of fortune cookies, and there have been no hints about the yogurt incident (yet). We usually get a load of fortune cookies because the waiters can never find a moment in which we sit still long enough for them to count our heads. But on the bright side, we get fifty or so cookies and fortunes to indulge ourselves in.

All around, there are noises of plastic wrappers being torn and cookies being cracked. “Happiness is an activity,” reads Jon. “No, it’s not. It’s an noun.”

This is quickly followed by exclamations of “Joys are often the shadows, cast by sorrows”, “My ‘learn­-Chinese’ word is drunk. Is that a problem?”, and “Fortune cookie wrappers are really a great waste of plastic”. I rip my wrapper open, throw it into the cellophane pile that’s rapidly growing in the center of the table, and carefully crack open my fortune cookie. A friend of mine told me that if your fortune cookie has no fortune, you should prepare to fall mysteriously ill and die the following year. I’m sure the fortune cookie factories get a lot of crap about that.

But my fortune cookie did not disappoint. In it was an innocent looking long rectangular slip of paper. As I pulled it gently from the cookie casing, I noticed it wasn’t the filmy kind, the type blue­ and­ white fortunes are usually printed on. It was thick cardstock, almost like a wedding invitation. I wonder what my friend would say about that. Was I about to get married? To whom? And when??

I looked at the ‘lucky number’ side first. “6, 66, 666, 6666, 66666”.

This was weird. Only a month ago, I went on vacation to Australia, and I was told that 6 was generally their unlucky number. Also, 666 is kind of the number of the devil.

I looked at the line above it and read my ‘learn-­Chinese’ word. “Danger­ 危险 (Wéixiǎn)”

This, plus the cardstock, plus my chain of unlucky numbers, made my eyebrows dip a little lower down than usual. Everyone knows fortunes in fortune cookies are made by some writer who’s lucky enough to get hired by a factory to write stupid sayings. But what was up with mine?

Curiously, I looked at my message. My eyebrows went up when I discovered, “Your life is in danger. Say nothing to anyone. You must leave the city immediately and never return. Repeat: say nothing.”

I started laughing a little. Why was I so nervous to read that? I bet the factory puts that message in every millionth message, like jackpot, you’re going to die. What a prank.

It’s actually a great way to gain credibility. In fact, I should start advising that to the company I work for. Put a little scare in some of the website posts, and, well, people will start paying attention. Kind of like some Miley Cyrus gig.

From all the reaching and shuffling, I can assume we’re probably going in for seconds. I grab another fortune cookie and sit back down.

This time, I don’t take my time. Shkafdljjfal! goes the wrapper. Crack! goes the cookie. I pull out my fortune, and­­-

“Your life is in danger. Say nothing to anyone. You must leave the city immediately and never return. Repeat: say nothing.”

I look around the table. Has anyone else seen these messages? I’m starting to get a little angry. These words could really scare someone. These words could cause life­changing decisions. It’s not funny to tell someone they’re not safe in the home they live in.

But it looks like everyone else is having fun. I mean, from all the laughing and merry storytelling going on, it certainly doesn’t look like anyone else has gotten death warnings. In fact, it seems that Katie has gotten a message saying “You need a mint. Bad.”

I shrug, and, seeing how terrible my fortunes have been, I go for a third one. Third time’s a charm, or something like that. I open up a cookie while munching on my last one and­

AGAIN??!? What does this mean??

Gina, sitting beside me, seems to find my silence and quick mood change very perplexing. It also seems like she’s been trying to talk to me for the past minute. Quickly, I ask her to open up a fortune. She looks at me weirdly, says “Okay..?” and opens one up.

“Your infinite capacity for patience will be rewarded sooner or later.”

“Is there a reason you asked me to open a fortune?” she asks.

“Uh, social experiment..?” I reply.

That’s weird. So obviously, I’m the only one getting these messages. I pick up the message I dropped under my seat. As I pick it up, I freeze.

The paper has changed. It’s back to flimsy, greasy paper. And the message on it reads “You will make a name for yourself in the field of photography.”

Almost frantically, I reach for the slip I left under the rim of my plate. It’s changed too. The learn­chinese word is “Watermelon­ 西瓜 (Xīguā)”, and the numbers are “1, 5, 6, 12, 16, 37, 42.” The message has turned into “Joy comes to those who wait.”

I snatch another unopened fortune cookie from the table. Mom looks at me weirdly, but I don’t particularly care. I open up the cookie, not even bothering to eat the cookie itself, and yank out the paper.

“Your life is in danger. Say nothing to anyone. You must leave the city immediately and never return. Repeat: say nothing.”

I lean on the back of my chair, and look around the diner. “Scott, are you okay?” asks Mom. “You’ve been opening up an awful lot of fortunes.”

Gina beside me winks and tells Mom, “He’s conducting a social experiment.”

Mom looks a bit confused, but she says, “Interesting,” before quirking an eyebrow and turning back to listen to Mia’s news on her baby. Gina looks at me, and I instinctively cover up the fortune I just opened.

I didn’t need to bother. That one had changed as well.

This was getting weird. Beyond weird. Either some dark magic was targeting me or I was in the middle of a well­orchestrated joke by my family. I mean, I’m not moving to Los Angeles or Seattle or anything just because a stupid fortune from a fortune cookie is advising me to. Right?

But something did feel off. What was going on with the whole paper­changing thing? Why were my fortunes changing? Why was I the only one receiving these messages??

I collect all my discarded fortunes and put them in my pocket. The cookies are in a pile on my plate, but I have no interest in eating them. Mom pays the bill, and we gather our coats and prepare to leave.

It’s 8:34 PM, and quite dark out. I still have tons of homework to do, but that’s not what I’m thinking of as I walk behind my parents and my ten siblings. Everywhere, hands are reaching out towards me. The smooth fortunes in my pocket dance around, laughing at me and my irrational fears.

I know fortunes are stupid lies. I know better than to believe in some sort of supernatural dark magic paranormal activity scare. In fact, is that Jon laughing at me right now? It must be a joke. Jon must be pulling a prank.

Oh wait. He was just laughing at Mia in front of me.

I see a shadow in front of me and whirl around. It’s just a tree. As I turn back around, I step on a branch and shriek. The whole family looks back at me. To them, I probably look like a dog afraid of his own tail, but I’m not feeling right. Something’s off.

Shadows are moving everywhere. Are they supposed to move?

Is that a shadow, or a person?

A song vaguely passes through my mind. I like the tune, but I forget the words and the title. I want to hum the tune, but I can’t remember it anymore. Desperately, I think of it as hard as I can. I want to hum the tune.

But I can’t.

I feel hands on my neck, around my shoulders, tripping me, strangling me. My heart hurts, if that’s even possible. Breathing is hard and I can’t think straight anymore. Is that the sun or the moon? Is that a tree or a house? Where are my parents?

“Dad! Mom!” I yell. There is no response.

“Mia! Lanny! Gina!"

Nothing.

"Matt? Andrew?”

I’m forgetting a brother. And don’t I have other sisters?

Ten. I have ten siblings. Five plus five is ten. Four plus six is ten. Two plus two is five. Five times three is eight. Eight is ten. I have ten siblings.

Why is that pole moving? Why is everything purple?

“Help!” I scream. Something’s hitting me on the head. Water?

77 percent of torture victims succumb to Chinese water torture after 24 hours.

Something’s hitting me from the inside my head as well. My brain is water­-torturing the sky. I laugh.

“AhhhhHHHHRGHHGGHHHH!!!!” I yell, still laughing, and I close my eyes. I trip over a rock, or a shoe, or a person. I open my eyes, and everything is a beautiful rose color. I love roses.

But it doesn’t smell like roses. It smells like blood, and fortune cookies.

I fall.



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- Quibbles