“Dear You! It’s your lucky day! You have been sent the Lucky Coin of Antioch! Guaranteed to grant your wishes! NO TRICKS OR CATCHES! Just make a copy of this letter and send the coin to the first person in your contacts list IMMEDIATELY after you make your third wish! Do this and your life will be good FOREVER! Follow the rules or YOU WILL DIE!”
With shaking hands, I drop the tarnished silver coin into the envelope. The address on the front is barely legible, but I’ve got to believe it’ll make it.
A violent coughing fit forces me to stop on the way to the mailbox, and the blood on my hands draws stares from passersby. Let them stare. All that matters is this letter—my only chance at redemption.
I stumble turning to go back into my apartment. A stranger catches me, flinching at the icy chill of my hands. “You alright, mister?” he asks.
I clutch him tightly, my dry eyes wild, wishing for the pain to end, for death to come with its sweet release, but knowing it won’t. Not until that letter is delivered.
My voice comes out in a hiss dry as paper. “Don’t…break…the chain….”
This story is part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.