Years ago, an old lady named Namku moved to our town. At first, everyone thought she was crazy. She spouted nonsense about the most random things. Then, one day, she grabbed a child’s hand and looked at him with wonder in her eyes as she said, “You will become a great president.”
The parents along with everyone else was confused, until years later, that same boy became the president of Japan, labeling him as the most successful man alive.
After that, people came to her for their children’s fortunes. It became a sort of holiday for my people. My father told me story after story about that woman. I remember the only thought running through my head, “She must be really healthy to have lived for this long.”
I could admit. As a six-year-old child, I grew fond of her. So, on the day of my seventh birthday, the same day Namku would finally come out into town and sit on the same dusty pillow placed perfectly between two Buddha statues, my father took me to go see her, to get my fortune told.
I thought of many careers she could list me successfully in: A doctor, a vet, a police officer, a scientist, a journalist. I practically bounced with joy as me and my father stood in line where a bunch of other children my age got their fortunes told, each one leaving with a broad smile on their faces and their parents equally happy.
My father told me to be patient, and I was, but the excitement in me was bubbling up like a sneeze that was held back for too long.
I was the last in line. I kept looking over the shoulders of other eager children, watching as Namku gave happy fortunes to each child. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled, the wrinkles on her face turning up. I smiled back, a warmth spreading through my chest.
“Jun-ya, look…” I looked up at my father and saw he was pointing to an ocean blue lily. I watched as its soft pedals fought against the wind. “Touch it.” He said, his voice is soft and soothingly comforting. I picked up the lily, staring at it. “What does it mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.
My father chuckled, bending his knees to my level, “It means good luck. Your grandmother years ago once saw a blue lily and only a few moments later, she found a gem made of pure gold.” He explained, his voice sounding reminiscent.
“Is that why she lives in a big house?” I asked, my eyes lighting up,
“Yup. Your grandma is very lucky, and now, you are too.” He said with a warm smile.
My heart raced. I felt a mix of emotions; wonder, bewilderment, and most of all excitement.
I started to jump, holding the lily tight in my tiny hand. My pigtails bounced with each excited hop, my skirt puffing like an air balloon. My father put his hand on my shoulder, “Calm down, calm down.” He chuckled, but I couldn’t help it.
Finally, it was my turn.
I looked up at Namku. She was bigger than I thought, but she didn’t give off a scary aura, whether it was the complete opposite. I felt drawn to her. She smiled down at me, her wrinkles curling up again.
She moved slowly, her long skinny hands reaching for mine. I looked up at her in amazement, giving her the same warm smile as her skinny, surprisingly soft hands cupped mine.
There was a pause. She continues to smile down at me, then suddenly, her warm smile turns into a grim frown.
I felt a twinge of fear as her face changed emotions. I looked over at my father who had a mix of a confused and angry look, “What’s wrong?” He asked, his suddenly strong voice cutting through the air.
Namku slowly raised her head, her eyes wide as if she saw a ghost. Has she?
“The…. the girl… the girl… the girl…” She repeats, the fear in me starting to overpower the excitement and warmth I once felt. “What?” My father exclaims, completely alarmed.
Namku looks up at my father, her mouth opened to say something, then she looks back to me before she finally speaks.
“The girl…. on this day…. in the future…. the girl…. will die a horrible death.”
Beat. Everything went silent, at least for me it did. I saw my father pull me away from the woman, his face red in anger as he yelled at her and lifted me into his arms, but all I could hear was this gnawing ringing in my ear, the only thought in my mind, “I’m gonna…. die?”
Every day was like a living hell. Emotionally, that is. My father started receiving letters from family and friends. Every time he got them, he’d only read it for a second before throwing it in the trash.
One night, I retrieved one from the trash and opened it to read what was inside. Each letter was written differently in different hand writings, but they all conveyed the same message. “We’re sorry for your loss. We’re here for you no matter what.”
It only took until I opened the third letter that I realized, the loss was… me.
I was so stunned; I didn’t realize the time. My father had been calling my name. When he called it one last time, I spun around only to see him standing in the inner doorway. “Jun-ya, put that down!” He hollered; the first time he ever yelled at me.
I jolted and dropped the envelopes onto the floor with a soft plop. He walked over to me and bent down to collect the ones I dropped, and then grabbed the trash can mumbling, “I should’ve thrown these out earlier.”
As he tied up the trash bag, a stood behind him, my hands curling into a nervous fist as a question crawled its way out my trembling mouth, “Am I going to die, daddy?”
My father froze, and for a second, I thought he was mad at me. But then, he placed the bag on the floor and turned to look at me with watery eyes, managing a weak smile. “No.” He said, “No. You’re not going to die. Not because some lady said you were going to.”
“But-”
“Jun-ya, listen. She probably meant when you grow old and wrinkly. It’s sad, but everyone dies naturally over time. You’re going to live a full life. You’re going to live a fun and successful life. Who cares what a woman like her says? Your future is in your hands, not hers.” With that, he places a gentle kiss on my forehead, the warmth of his love bringing the color back to my skin.
“He’s right.” I thought, “Maybe that is what she meant. Maybe…” The hopeful voice in my head faded as Namku’s words echoed in my head, “Die a horrible death…” I quickly pushed the thought back down, focusing on the warmth and protection my father gives me, hoping it will last forever.
From that day on, my father restricted me from celebrating my birthday. I wasn’t mad at him. Every time June nineteenth came around, I’d have nightmares of Namku’s words, and I’d have the same images of my dead body, bloodied on the same pavement I stood on, on that fateful day.
It’s been years since then and I’m thirty-two years old. I now live in America. I’ve been pretty successful. Running my own business as a young woman. Hosting fundraisers and volunteer jobs to raise money for the cause. I’ve conquered more in my life than I ever thought I would after that day.
My father’s method of banning me from birthdays seemed to have worked. I don’t have those nightmares anymore. I even forgot the day of my birth. I’d only have it written down for passwords or job applications. Even so, I never thought of it as my birthday, and I thank my father for that.
But today seems… a bit off.
Since the moment I woke up, the number nineteen has been stuck in my head. I didn’t understand why, so I brushed it off.
Like every workday, I take a shower, brush my teeth, prepare myself a healthy breakfast, eat, and then head to work, popping mint in my mouth while I drive.
When I arrive at my corporate job and take the elevator to my office floor, something starts to feel off. I look at the floor number pad and my eyes drift to the numbers one and nine, the image making the number nineteen in my head.
I blink, genuinely confused for a second until the elevator doors open with a ding.
I shake the feeling off and walk confidently towards my cubical. But then, not even ten steps in, and that feeling returns. I continue walking towards my cubicle, taking deep, measured breaths. Once I’m in my comfy seat, the feeling goes away and I start to settle in, immediately diving into my computer and documents.
I work for what feels like hours until lunch finally arrives. As usual, I’d go to the staff lounge, make myself a hot coffee and grab my favorite salad from my bag. I’d see other coworkers chatting together and eating their own lunches. But today, I saw them glancing at me and talking in hushed voices.
Do I have bed head? Did I mess up my makeup? Are my clothes uneven?
The thoughts flooded my head, the ominous feeling I have only making it worse.
Throughout the rest of the day, my coworkers stared at me and whispered to each other every time I entered a room. Once it was time to head back home, I started to pack up my things faster than I usually do.
As I started to head towards the elevator, one of my coworkers, Jerald, tapped my shoulder from behind. “You look stressed. What’s been bothering you?”
I shake my head, putting on a poker face, “No, I’m fine. I just remembered I needed to do something at home, so I’m kind of in a rush.”
“Is it really that important?” He exclaims, tilting his head with a small smile.
I froze for a second, confused by the invasive question, “N-no, I guess not. But I-I’d really like to get it over with-”
“You should stay.” he says, a smile still on his face although his voice sounds slightly deadpan.
I looked up at him, the fear in my eyes boiling over. What does he want? Why is he doing this?
“I would very much appreciate it if you let me go.” I said calmly, standing my ground. I started to walk away, and for a moment, he stood there without saying a word, watching me.
“Please, Jun-ya…”
I froze, turning to look at him over my shoulder.
“Stay.”
I stared at him, not knowing what my next move would be. Should I run? Should I call for help? Should I threaten to call the police?
My eyes started darting around the space, searching for something to defend myself if he made any sudden movement towards me, then, I saw another one of my coworkers, a female.
Her name was Dana. She looked at the two of us but mainly at me, her face wasn’t an expression of worry though.
“Oh, good. You caught her.” She said. Caught me? What does she mean by that?
I took a step back afraid of what they might do, then she stepped closer standing next to Jerald who was still staring at me. “Come. We have something for you.” she said, beckoning me forward.
I sighed and started to follow her, feeling more comfortable with her than Jerald who followed behind me completely silent.
I walked a little faster, creating some distance between me and Jerald. “Hey, Dana.”
“Hmm?” She responded, a warm smile on her face.
“What’s the deal with Jerald? Is he… okay?”
“He’s fine. He just didn’t want you to miss this. We worked so hard so you can enjoy yourself.” she said, not looking at me, the smile on her face unwavering.
“What do you mean by ‘we’?” I exclaimed, an alarm in the back of my mind setting off.
She chuckled, not answering the question, continuing to walk in the same direction.
Seeing this, I got quiet. I clutched my purse closely, ready to call the police or use the half empty bottle of pepper spray if I needed to.
We stopped at the door of the staff room. Jerald was right behind me, almost breathing down my neck. His heavy breathing echoed through my ears as Dana slowly opened the door.
When it opened fully, I could see other coworkers standing in a semi-circle around a single wooden chair that looked out of place from the rest of the well-furnished lounge chairs.
They all wore wide smiles, the corners of their eyes wrinkling. They kept that same look as Jerald lightly pushed me forward. The room was dim, and the aroma was dark. I swallowed hard, expecting some sort of chant to erupt as I slowly sat down on the wooden chair.
When I am fully seated, Jerald walks up to me and sticks out his hands. “Your things, please.”
“Huh?” I exclaimed, my grip on my bag tightening.
“Your belongings, give them to me.”
“What? But w-why-”
“Jun-ya.” Dana interrupted, “Give them to him.”
Hesitantly, I gave him my things. watching as my purse is sat down on the counter next to the sink.
Suddenly, one of the coworkers walked up to me. I don’t know her name. She came up to me with one hand behind her back, it wasn’t until she stood right in front of me that I realized what she was holding.
She pulled out her hand and revealed the item to me. The item was a large knife.
Panic set in as I carefully took the knife from her hand, “W-what do you want me to do with this?” I asked, looking around for answers, “What is this all for?” I looked to Dana, a friend I thought I could trust up until now, “Why are you doing this?” I looked around much more, “You… you’re scaring me.”
Tears started to swell in my eyes as I looked around the unmoving faces of each of my coworkers. Before I could say anything further, the person behind me put a blindfold over my eyes. My grip on the knife handle tightened as my whole body jolted from the unexpected action.
I was on the brink of tears and as the darkness enveloped my sight, the dark thoughts of the past kicked back into gear.
Suddenly, Namku’s words came flooding back. “The girl…. on this day…. in the future…. the girl…. will die a horrible death.”
The words repeated, “…. will die a horrible death.”
The coworkers started approaching me slowly, “…. will die a horrible death.”
I heard something being wheeled over to me, “…. will die a horrible death.”
I felt the air around me heat up, “…. will die a horrible death.”
I felt their shadows consume me, “… will die a horrible death.”
I’m gonna die, aren’t I?
“No.” I murmured, for a moment, they stopped their movements, but the fear, anger and defiance had already blinded me.
“NO!” I screamed.
The blind fold was still covering my eyes, but I could clearly see my vision turning red as I went into a literal blind rage to defend myself.
I heard the unsettling sounds of flesh cutting, and people screaming and groaning, but I could only focus on protecting myself.
I lunged at any direction I heard a sound come from, feeling the knife slice or stab something blunt with each strike.
Then, it got all quiet, the only sound, the humming noise coming from the mini fridge.
Slowly, I took off the blindfold, only to see blood and nothing but my coworkers’ lifeless bodies on the ground.
Progressively, I began to realize what I had done. A part of me said it was for the greater good. They were gonna do something to me. I had to do it. I had to defend myself.
I looked around, already planning my escape plan to get to safety — then I saw it.
I saw a table with wheels on it; in front of the chair I was sitting on. On the table was a tray, and on the tray, a cake that read “Happy Birthday Jun-ya.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh at how stupid I am, laugh at how much of a coward I was, laugh at the crime I just did and the mix of emotions I had.
I can’t fix this. I can’t ignore this. I can’t bring them back to life. Heck, life is hell anyway. And I have no reason to stay.
I brought the knife to my neck and sliced my throat open.
-TV static-
“This just end. A thirty-two-year-old woman named Jun-ya Oshida stabbed and killed all her coworkers while they tried to surprise her by throwing her a birthday party. They said they had been planning the pleasant surprise for quite a while and know how much Jun-ya loves horror. Apparently, Jun-ya had other plans, and instead of cutting the cake, she cut them. The police listed this crime as a murder-suicide sense she killed herself right after the brutal massacre. I’m Mari Prince coming to you live from News Station International, June 19th.”
