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    Sunday, Monday, Doomsday... Contest Winner 
 Category:  General Fiction
  Posted: May 10, 2017      Views: 212

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Mary's Gifts
"The Premonition (Flash Fiction)" by jusylee72

It started yesterday.  It would end tomorrow. Only one person knew, Mary.

 91-year-old Mary lived in a small town, Granite View, in North Texas.   

She met Henry on her 16th birthday. He offered her a ride in his old beater truck when he saw her walking to the grocery store. Of course, she said no. No proper lady would accept a ride from a stranger.  He followed her to the store and introduced himself to her in the produce section. He politely asked if he could "call 
on" her some time.  She refused. "What kind of a boy in the seventies still uses the phrase "call on"?"  The young man persisted. He repeated his request every Tuesday.  After six months, she gave in and said yes.  Two years later they were married.
The first time her gift became apparent, a dream interrupted her sleep. An angel sat with her on the side of the bed and whispered. "Some baby's are not meant for this world."  The next day her little girl, Melinda, prematurely entered the world.  She died only two hours after her birth.  The grief overwhelmed her.  She never told anyone about her premonition.  Granite View's population consisted mostly of church-going people. If she claimed to have psychic ability, they would brand her as a devil worshipper. 

The second time, her fifth child fell in the water. One of the older children left the front door ajar as they left for school. While the three-year-old napped, she washed the breakfast dishes. She felt a cold breeze coming from the living room. A sense of doom came over her. She couldn't believe her eyes. The tap water became a frozen waterfall in her sink. She stepped back in disbelief. Just as quickly the water melted. The kitchen connected to the living room. Turning to her right, she saw the open door.  

Mary ran to the bedroom expecting to see her sleeping child.  He was gone.  

Running out the door, the image of ice filled her head. Just two weeks before it felt like spring   Last night a cold front came through, now a chill filled the air. Her mind pictured the pond. She took the kids ice skating on it only three weeks ago. The pond might not be solid. She reached the park just as her three-year-old plummeted into the lake. She dived in. It wasn't deep.  She found him. She swam to the side of the pond and carried him out of the water. He coughed up water and began to cry.  She carried him home, grateful for every breath as she held him against her chest. 

Once again she told no one about the incident.   

The premonitions came often throughout her life. She knew sadness before it happened. She felt blessings before they were lived.

 Her children were all grown now.  Henry made his way to heaven five years ago.

Last night, her sleep was restless. The dream was intense and bone chilling. A man wearing the uniform of another country stood in an elaborate office joking about the end of America.  She recognized his face, the Korean President Kim Jong-un, behind him she saw a calendar, May 10th proudly displayed.  He gave the order. Missiles were fired. The U.S. retaliated. Nuclear missiles filled large screen maps, a giant video game displayed in war rooms in both countries, a video game no one could win.

The dream left her awake and scared, but what was there to do?  

It was useless to call the authorities.  No one would believe a 91-year-old crazy woman trying to protect the world from annihilation.

She calmed herself. Her children all lived in different States. There was a small chance they would survive. She called each one of them. She didn't mention her dream.   

She felt content to know her children felt her love as she hung up the phone.

She no longer had a car. She found an old bike in the garage.  She began to laugh as she pedaled down the street to the town cemetery. I must look ridiculous, a 91-year-old woman on a bicycle.

I'm coming to see you soon, Henry.  

The first bomb hit Texas an hour later.   

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

Pays one point and 2 member cents. Artwork by cleo85 at

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