Okay, so this based on a writing prompt about imagining what your future looks like, writing six word story on that, and then proceeding to write a whole story. And also, no hate to Hagrid, yeah? I love that gentle giant ❤
six word story: Future says, ‘I depend on you.’
I sit at a table, in a large conference room. The ceiling is wooden and the floor is covered with a thin grey carpet. There is a black door behind me, and the table is oval. I can feel my palms shaking – ever so slightly – because of what’s about to happen. In some ways, it’s so weird. In others, it’s downright terrifying.
The door behind me opens and in walks a smart looking man with a briefcase and an extremely long coat. He stretches out his hand, and says in a British accent, ‘Nice to meet you, I’m your future.’
The first thing I blurt out is, ‘You’re not me.’ Well, duh. But then again, I totally expected my future to be me, only taller, and smarter and prettier.
Future gives a curt nod of agreement.
Well this is weird.
‘That means you’re either a totally random person, or someone important in my life…’ I say, and I realize I like the latter idea quite a bit. The man is not at all bad looking, and it’s always been my dream to have a British hubby, maybe even someone who could call me ‘love’. And stick out his pinky while sipping tea of course.
Future shakes his head, ‘I’m not your husband. You don’t get married actually, I’m the reason you die.’
‘You can read my thoughts? And what?’
‘Well yes, I am you, and what what? Why do you look like you’ve tasted something bad?’
‘In one sentence you said I wouldn’t get married and that some British man would be the death of me quite literally.’ I say, a little miffed.
There’s a short pause.
‘Well?’ Future finally bursts out, ‘Aren’t you gonna say something?’
‘You’re supposed to ask me when you’re going to die and whether you’ll meet the love of your life and then I get to say that I can’t actually let you know that you’ll die at 72 and that the love of your life is your favorite-‘ Future stops abruptly.
‘What?’ I ask, ‘Go on. Favorite what? Movie star would be nice. Or maybe a writer. Yes, I’d like that.’
‘I…I wasn’t even talking about you. Just citing a general example.’
‘Right.’ I say, quirking an eyebrow, ‘You said I wouldn’t get married though. Where did the love of my life come in?’
Future raises his eyebrows, ‘Well, who said you have to get married to your lover? It’s not easy for him either, being a musician and all-‘
‘I get together with my favorite musician?’
‘A guitarist actually, and his name is-why am I telling you this?’ Future asks, slapping his hand over his mouth.
I shrug, but the corners of my mouth twitch. ‘You’re like Hagrid from Harry Potter.’
Future pulls a chair and sits down. ‘Of course I am. Big hearted and a father figure.’
‘Also a blabber mouth,’ I say, with a vicious grin.
Future glares at me.
‘All right, tell me more,’ I say, ‘What about my career?’
I realize I’ve walked into a trap by Future’s smile, ‘Now we’re talking,’ he says. ‘You see…that isn’t going down very well for you.’
‘What -what do you mean?’
Future leans forward, ‘The thing is this. I can change. I’m not definite.’
‘And you also seem to be having an identity crisis.’
Future ignores my quip. ‘I’m serious. You don’t get it, do you?’
Future doesn’t reply. In fact, he completely freezes. I stare at him for a bit wondering what the hell is going on.
‘Future? Fyuuutureee?’ I sing his name. No response.
Okay, freaky. But if my future is frozen, is that figurative? Or like, do I cease to exist or something? Now I’m having an identity crisis.
Future still hasn’t said anything, and now I can feel my pulse pick up. I stand up, wringing my hands.
Ugh. Umm, what do I know about emergencies? 911. Stop, drop, and roll. Okay.
I reach out for my phone and have pressed the three numbers, and am in the process of saying, ‘I have an emergency,’ when Future suddenly snaps, ‘no you don’t!’ and grabs the phone from me.
‘Future! you’re okay!’ I say and wrap him in a hug. He shakes me off.
‘Yes, of course I am.’
‘Then what the hell.. what were you doing?’ I ask, genuinely curious.
‘I was trying to build up the moment. For giving you life-changing advice. But you would not cooperate -‘
‘Oh okay,’ I interrupt him, ‘Well then, continue.’
‘-at all. You were supposed to lean in and be entranced, and your pulse should have quickened-‘
‘It did,’ I say, ‘but that’s because I thought you were having an attack or something.’
‘-but you obviously have no dramatic training whatsoever. You just killed that moment-‘
‘Future,’ I roll my eyes, ‘You’re just stalling now. Hehe. It’s funny to say that. Future stalled. Future paused. Future farted.’
He looks affronted, ‘How did you know?’
I grin, ‘Did you let off a …time bomb?’
Future rolls his eyes as though I am hopeless.
‘What I wanted to say was this,’ and Future says, ‘I depend on you.’