Good Luck Charm
Flash Fiction
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Synopsis: After receiving bad news, Dmitri ponders where his life is going, and considers how he will know when it’s time to change.
I’ve had the itch to give you all some flash fiction, and it finally came together. I don’t want to give you too much prologue, Please enjoy the story!
February 15th. A day like any other. Dmitri groaned and turned off his alarm, and tried not to think about it. He had to go to school, just like yesterday. Had to go to work at the diner just like yesterday. Yesterday was an ordinary, normal, non-noteworthy day. And today was the same.
Today was a day like any other. There were important, routine things that he had to think about. He couldn’t waste any time thinking about her.
Why would he think about her? She turned him down, he took it like a man. “There are plenty of fish in the sea”, Piotr had texted him. Somehow, he didn’t feel better.
But there was nothing to think about. She was just another face at school, just like him. There was nothing unusual about today. It was a day like any other.
Dmitri splashed cold water on his face, and got dressed, grabbed his backpack which sat untouched by his door. He slipped on his boots and found his coat. He evaded his mother, who was fussing over his younger brother. He was out the door before the sun even rose.
The cold hit him with a comfortable familiarity. Hello, old friend, Dmitri liked to say. The cold was predictable. The cold was familiar. In Russia, there would always be cold. Everyone was asking him now, at school and at home, even sometimes at the diner: “Dmitri, where do you see yourself in five years?” Cold, Dmitri smirked. That’s the only thing he could be sure of about the next five years.
What even was five years? Lives could change in moments. Trajectories changed by one event. If she had been the love of his life, his next five years would look different. It’s not her, so his next five years—who knows! Maybe sometime in the next five years he would meet a different girl, and she would be the love of his life. Maybe! Maybe. Five years is an impossible span of time. Dmitri frowned, and kicked a clump of icy snow.
Where do I see myself in five years, he asked. He felt the presence of a plan, of an unseen and invisible script that he should follow, and which somehow he couldn’t access. She had a plan. She was going to get top marks at school, go to university, become a lawyer. Her five year plan didn’t even include him. He was looking to chart a future, she was looking to follow it. He was looking for someone to walk into the unknown with; she was looking for someone to play a role in her scripted life. Dmitri shrugged bitterly. She could think that way. Yeah. Nothing wrong with it, and heck, maybe it’s for the best, you know? Maybe Dmitri was dodging some kind of a bullet.
But that’s not five years, that’s today. Today. Dmitri only knew how to get through today because it was all a routine. Wake, School, Work, Sleep. What else could there be? What time was there for adventure? For discovery? They say to live in the present, but the people who say that all have lives figured out. Where’s my life going? Where is my ‘present’ leading?
I need a sign, Dmitri thought. I need an alarm to wake up in the morning, I need a sign to shake things up. Is that so bad to ask for? But—what would a sign tell me? What’s it all mean?
Dmitri pushed his hands deeper in his pockets, and shrugged his shoulders higher. He was almost at school.
It was the same time, and same route every day. And he saw her again. She was chittering happily with her friends. That was how they started talking—they arrived at school the same time every day for months before he complimented something stupid—he liked her hair, or maybe her boots. An excuse to say anything. They got to talking, as happens at schools.
Dmitri shook his head. No, today was a normal, ordinary day like any other. He slowed his steps, waited for a mass of bodies to enter the school before him. The bell rang, 9:00, as he walked in. Everyone stepped faster to get to class.
I need a sign, Dmitri repeated. A sign to tell me to change things up. To do something different. To live differently. A sign that my life doesn’t need to be boring. A sign that it’s okay to think outside the box. That felt good, it brought a strange kind of peace. Just give me a sign.
Class began—physics. Dmitri doodled in the margins of his notebook, he stared out the window when he thought he could get away with it.
In the pale purple hues of dawn, a bright light seemed to pierce the sky. What is that?
“Dmitri?”
Dmitri snapped to attention, Mrs. Petrov was looking at him disapprovingly. “Yes, Mrs. Petrov?”
“Perhaps you could answer question three for—”
The windows exploded inwards, and a loud boom like an artillery barrage shook the whole building. Dmitri was knocked out of his chair by shards of glass flying through the air. Blood streamed down his face and hands from fresh cuts. He looked out the window, at the streak of cloud almost directly above. Cold air rushed in over the broken windows and took the classroom hostage.
Dmitri looked back down into the shards of glass, at his reflection. He smiled.
= = =
“In that moment I formed a plan,” Grandpa said. “I would leave. I didn’t much care where. I applied to universities in France, Britain, Spain, Canada, America, Australia, Japan. All I knew is that I was leaving.”
We all sat around him, Grandpa Dmitri, as he told his story. Something he liked to do at Thanksgiving every year.
“I was accepted into several, but the student visa process to America was faster—and by no means fast!” he gave a knowing glance to Grandma. “I went to university in Chicago, I met your grandmother. Here we are. And this—” he held up a tiny rock in a little glass case—beautiful, dark, and mysterious. “This is a piece of the Chelyabinsk Meteor that gave me my sign that day. This is my good luck charm—our good luck charm, as I extend its fortunes to you.”
“Grandpa,” one of the younger cousins raised a curious hand, “What was your plan?”
He smiled, the wrinkles pushing and pulling the scars on his face. “To change. To get something different, something had to change. Small changes lead to small differences, big changes lead to big differences. Not everyone gets signs, but…” He tossed the little glass case with the meteorite in the air and caught it, “…I was given a big sign.”
The End
Thank you very much for reading! This story was inspired by the Chelyabinsk Meteor, which is an event which captured my imagination when it happened back in 2013. If you enjoyed this story, please consider sharing it with a friend!
Please consider leaving a like, telling me what you thought in the comments, or sharing this story on Notes. If you would like to read more, please check out my collection of longer fiction at The Volume.
God bless!
AJPM
Okay, a Meteor fragment is *SO COOL* and I want one now.
Also:
In America, you ask for signs. In Soviet Russia, sign asks for YOU!
Enjoyed this one! Maybe because I am a believer in ,if you don't like the result make a change. That was a heck of a change.