Murphey's Law

The day began the same as any other day. My alarm was set to ring death metal to get me out of bed. All the world was quiet, still, no traffic yet. I drank a cup of tea in relative peace, I dropped my first tea bag on the floor and had to get another and I spilled honey all over my counter but eventually, I got there.

I never should have left the house.

Murphey's law ruled my day. Everything that could go wrong, did. I had to jump my car before I could even leave the house. I got a flat tire on the way to work. I hit a traffic jam and got lost on a detour. Two hours later I decided that perhaps I wasn't meant to get to work today.

I turned around for home. Got lost again. I decided to go where the road would take me. I took back country roads and thought about twisting passages of Stephen King novels. I passed farms and small towns with no idea where I was going or why. It began to overtake my mind, the mystery of where this was leading.

I wasn't even sure what direction I was headed.

I stopped at a diner and bar along the way. The TV over the bar blared the news. I was going to ask them to turn it down but there was quite the hullaballoo going on. I had forgotten that it was Groundhog's Day. Apparently so had everyone else. The news casters were scrambling to get to Punxsutawney and unearth Phil.

Apparently my phenomenon of terrible luck today was not my own. Everyone on the TV was looking a little ragged. The newscasters, unkempt. I looked around me at the bar and listened to the stories of those around me. The bartender was lucky to have been able to open today. He had lost the keys to the building after sleeping in, which he never does.

A woman next to me had misplaced her wallet and found it in the freezer, of all places. So her day had been pushed back as well.

Another woman had tripped up her stairs at 2 AM and was now here with her foot in a cast, talking about how her doctors had been scrambling and frantic all night, their supplies seemed to be moving from one location to another. No one could find what they needed.

I wondered on this. I pondered.

What could cause such a widespread case of bad luck? Armageddon? The fairy folk? The turning and angling of the planet? Who knows? This was a mystery beyond my capability to solve.

I drank my drink and listened to the stories and heard a yelp come from the kitchen. The cook emerged through the door, soon followed by a billow of smoke. We all helped and just managed to save the place from becoming a pile of ash. We all sat back down at the bar, soot streaked and tired.

I fortified myself for what else this day could bring. I sighed. I just hope tomorrow will be better.

Prompt ▼

Write a story or poem about a Groundhog Day (2/2) gone wrong.

Choose Mystery as one of your genres.