This is a short story I penned on a whim. Inspired by a Daily Post sometime last year – probably July – I decided to go ahead and post it now. It’s entirely a work of fiction, all conjured up in my head. Stay happy, read, enjoy, and comment or like below! I’d love to hear from you!
I woke up that morning, in my small, cramped apartment; sighing, I switched off the television, realising that I’d fallen asleep on my couch to the reruns of House M.D. I looked around at my messy room, stretching my sore back, and after completing my morning chores, I dawdled to the kitchen counter to make myself some coffee.
A good night’s rest was supposed to make you feel brilliant – like a ray of sunshine on an adventurous mission through the dark and fascinating realms of outer space, shaking with copious amounts of energy. Instead, I felt like someone had taken me on a trip gone wrong, dragged me through bushes, accidentally thrown me in a gigantic washing machine and then hung me out to dry. Not that anyone would ever actually take me on a trip in the first place.
I groaned as I sipped the scalding coffee, and my eyes fell on the clock on the speckled wall in front of me, plaster peeling off the yellowing walls. It was then that I came to the realisation of my poor, pathetic existence. Hailey Walker, a twenty year-old with literally no life. I had a part-time job as a barista at Starbucks to help pay my way through college, and my apartment was a wreck.
I would also be late for the third time this week in showing up for work. I was probably going to get fired. Yet, my impossible optimism would kick in as soon as the clock hit nine, convincing myself that I’d be lucky someday. Well, Lady Luck, if you’re out there, I really need you to pay me a visit, okay?
“If I’m going to be late, I might as well be extremely late.” I muttered, as cynical as always, though I knew it wouldn’t last. Honestly, the few friends I did have were probably concerned that I was bipolar. And just in case you get any funny ideas, Mister or Missy, I’m not. My mother had me tested.
I finished the cup of coffee, and feeling a little better, went to change. I slipped into a warm pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before grabbing my work-clothes and walking out of the door, making sure that it was properly locked. Not that I had anything in that dingy place worth stealing anyway, but I was still a bit neurotic, heavens know why.
The Starbucks was just a block away, and I slowly walked along, taking the time to observe everyone else. I always did like watching people in their natural habitat – gosh, that sounds stalker-like. I’m not creepy, I promise! Just a little interested in observing people’s reactions to life. That’s when I noticed the woman dressed in vintage at the corner – selling lottery tickets. I shrugged as I thought about buying one – I was going to have to pass by her anyway. I kept my walk steady as I neared the turn; the safety of my workplace from my unhealthy urge to buy lottery or raffle tickets whenever I see them was a minute away. It may seem impossible to win, but hey, there’s always a chance – even if the odds are a million to one.
“It’s just one ticket.” I convinced myself, as I pulled out a dollar to give to the old lady. Upon closer inspection, I saw that she was wearing a floral dress that reached her ankles, with a cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders. Her bonnet resembled a tea caddy with tassels.
“Here you go, dearie.” she smiled as she handed me my ticket.
“Thank you.” I said, feeling a little lighter. There we go, my mood swings were swinging into place – about time too. I skipped the rest of the way, and burst into Starbucks cheerily. “Good morning, everyone!”
My co-workers looked up. Some were surprised, some were scared at my sudden entry, and others were too busy to care. “Never mind.” I said, heading to the washroom to change. I smoothed my messy curls and ran to take up my position at the counter. “Thanks, Don!” I yelled to my friend, who covered for me, before turning back to the customer.
“‘Morning, what can I get for you?” I looked up to see the old lady who had just sold me a ticket. I smiled warmly at her.
“A vanilla bean frappucino, please, dearie.” she chuckled, at my look of disbelief. “And a little bit of luck.” She winked. I grinned, even though I had little to no idea as to what she was alluding to. “Turn the radio up, dearie.” she said, with a mischievous tone I never thought she would possess, as I handed her her drink. Silently, I obeyed. There was something about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“…and the winning number is 429629. I repeat, the winning number is 429629.” I scrambled to get the ticket out of my purse – why, oh why, did I have this weird feeling in my stomach?
My eyes widened as I read the same six numbers on the piece of paper in my hand. This couldn’t be happening!
“I can buy the world’s stock of watermelons!” I screamed, in the hearing range of everyone present within a three-block radius.
Silence greeted me. You could even hear the crickets chirping, if you listened carefully. My cheeks went red.
“She’s the girl we learn about in Math.” I heard a whisper.
I started to laugh; then it struck me. The tea caddy bonnet, the wink, the lottery ticket, the urge to buy one – they all pointed to the same thing.
I smiled with thanks to her. I had just had a visit from Lady Luck.
Catch you later!