The following short story was written for the second volume of the sci-fi anthology, Machine of Death: A Collection of Stories About People Who Know How They Will Die. The story was rejected, so I'm presenting it here for free. If you're not familiar with it, Machine of Death is a collection of short stories about a machine that takes a drop of blood, and prints out a card with a phrase that tells you exactly how you will die. It doesn't say where or when, and sometimes the card is so vague that you don't even know what it means, but it's never wrong. The title of every story is taken from a machine of death card. So here's my take on it:
UPDATE: I've moved this story to my new writing-only blog. You can read it here.