| General Fiction posted September 1, 2022 |
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Maybe it's not as bad as you imagine!
Armageddon
by Rachelle Allen
Sunday, Monday, Doomsday... Contest Winner
I always said, "The day my mother-in-law is nice to me, that will be the harbinger of Armageddon." Today is that day.
With the same saccharine-sweet tone she exudes during phone calls (may I add, daily phone calls) to her son, my husband of twenty-five years, she actually called ME to extend an invitation for a shopping spree and lunch!
I clarified my identity immediately after my initial shock. "Elise, you know you've called Sarah."
"Why, of course I do, Darling!" She oozed like honey from a glass straw.
I had a full day's worth of doctoral theses to evaluate, but I was too curious to turn down this opportunity. Besides, I wasn't about to live the last day of our planet's existence on something as pedestrian as grading papers.
Her limo arrived at 9:45 to transport us to the shopping district. Upon our arrival, Lamar, the chauffeur, opened my door, and, as I bent to exit, I was eye to eye with an oddly familiar-looking vagrant. His hand-written sign read: THE WORLD WILL END TODAY!
Gooseflesh bubbled up my arms.
I took a moment to study his face, washing it clean, clipping his hair, and returning his four front teeth. And there stood my post-grad fiance', the former financial wunderkind, who'd left me at the altar for Beebee Baboom, the stripper from his previous night's bachelor party.
I watched him take in Lamar, the limo and my diamond-draped mother-in-law as she linked arms with me and walked us into Le Shoppe Extraordinaire.
Once inside, I beheld a dazzling array of evening gowns and designer pumps, with their infinitesimal variety of colors and beading and plumage. I was nine again and living all my Barbie fantasies.
"Anything your heart desires today, Darling," said Elise, cupping my chin, adoringly, in her hand. Yep; this time I could hear the Detonator of Doom clicking down. Tick, tick, tick.
I quickly removed the red diamond-encrusted one-shoulder number from its display hook, snagged up a pair of matching equally glittery Louboutins in my size and headed toward the dressing room.
"Sarah, Darling!" my mother-in-law called after me. "I'm going to be at the cosmetics counter. I love the way that clerk over there has done her make-up, and I'm going to demand she do mine the exact same way."
I turned to follow Elise's extended finger and beheld a woman the size of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, replete with Ronald McDonald make-up job, smiling back. Her name tag read "Beebee B."
I took a moment to close my eyes and savor it all. Tick, tick, tick. Then I dashed to the fitting room while, just for good measure, sending texts of love and adoration to my husband, kids, parents and best friend.
Within a moment of having zipped up my gown and stepped into my shoes, I heard the hiss of sparks, the crackle of flames and the immediate onslaught of fiery reverberations erupting from below.
Tick, tick, ti-
With the same saccharine-sweet tone she exudes during phone calls (may I add, daily phone calls) to her son, my husband of twenty-five years, she actually called ME to extend an invitation for a shopping spree and lunch!
I clarified my identity immediately after my initial shock. "Elise, you know you've called Sarah."
"Why, of course I do, Darling!" She oozed like honey from a glass straw.
I had a full day's worth of doctoral theses to evaluate, but I was too curious to turn down this opportunity. Besides, I wasn't about to live the last day of our planet's existence on something as pedestrian as grading papers.
Her limo arrived at 9:45 to transport us to the shopping district. Upon our arrival, Lamar, the chauffeur, opened my door, and, as I bent to exit, I was eye to eye with an oddly familiar-looking vagrant. His hand-written sign read: THE WORLD WILL END TODAY!
Gooseflesh bubbled up my arms.
I took a moment to study his face, washing it clean, clipping his hair, and returning his four front teeth. And there stood my post-grad fiance', the former financial wunderkind, who'd left me at the altar for Beebee Baboom, the stripper from his previous night's bachelor party.
I watched him take in Lamar, the limo and my diamond-draped mother-in-law as she linked arms with me and walked us into Le Shoppe Extraordinaire.
Once inside, I beheld a dazzling array of evening gowns and designer pumps, with their infinitesimal variety of colors and beading and plumage. I was nine again and living all my Barbie fantasies.
"Anything your heart desires today, Darling," said Elise, cupping my chin, adoringly, in her hand. Yep; this time I could hear the Detonator of Doom clicking down. Tick, tick, tick.
I quickly removed the red diamond-encrusted one-shoulder number from its display hook, snagged up a pair of matching equally glittery Louboutins in my size and headed toward the dressing room.
"Sarah, Darling!" my mother-in-law called after me. "I'm going to be at the cosmetics counter. I love the way that clerk over there has done her make-up, and I'm going to demand she do mine the exact same way."
I turned to follow Elise's extended finger and beheld a woman the size of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, replete with Ronald McDonald make-up job, smiling back. Her name tag read "Beebee B."
I took a moment to close my eyes and savor it all. Tick, tick, tick. Then I dashed to the fitting room while, just for good measure, sending texts of love and adoration to my husband, kids, parents and best friend.
Within a moment of having zipped up my gown and stepped into my shoes, I heard the hiss of sparks, the crackle of flames and the immediate onslaught of fiery reverberations erupting from below.
Tick, tick, ti-
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story up to 700 words that involves a doomsday scenario. Anything goes, but the end of the world, or its perception, must be a driving force in your story. |
Sunday, Monday, Doomsday... Contest Winner |
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