I inherited a magic 8 ball, it just predicted the day my wife died.

Life was perfectly normal and mundane until the day I inherited the Magic 8 Ball from a distant relative who had recently passed away. At first, it seemed like a quirky keepsake, a relic of childhood nostalgia. But as I held it in my hands one overcast evening, an unsettling feeling crept over me. There was something off about it, a strange, almost ominous vibe that seemed to emanate from its old, worn surface. I glanced at my wife, blissfully unaware, sitting across the room. Our love had always felt like a sanctuary, yet now, this seemingly innocuous toy had introduced an inexplicable sense of dread into our home. It just felt off, like something not meant to induce tension into the air but certainly did at the time.

I never mentioned it to Anna since the evening was beautiful, and the mood was full of anticipation for the upcoming playoff game. We were looking forward to some good old hockey. As a joke, I asked the Magic 8 Ball if our home team was going to win the game, chuckling at the childish stupidity that brought back fond memories of my youth.

"Cannot say now," the 8 Ball in my calloused hand read a few seconds later.

I wasn't surprised by the answer, knowing it was just a toy with a limited set of responses. Maybe I'd ask it again during the first intermission, I thought to myself. As the puck dropped, the game started with a few penalties and a goal against us just before the initial 20 minutes of the period ended. I had almost forgotten about the toy relic that had been passed down to me recently. As the first intermission approached, I picked up the 8 Ball again and asked if our team would win against the opposing team.

"Certainly, it will be legendary," I read after a short pause.

Initially, I thought it was an odd answer, but what did I know? It was probably made in the '60s when people were a bit more open-minded to quirky responses. I smiled at Anna and showed her the response. She found it funny, and her laugh, as always, became the highlight of the moment. Her laughter has always been the center point of my love and affection for her, making her the undeniable lead honcho in any group she's a part of.

During the 2nd and 3rd periods, we witnessed our home team not only tie the game but score an additional 4 goals in rapid succession against the opposing team. It was not only legendary as the 8 Ball predicted, but it also sent the stadium into a roaring frenzy. Later, it was said that the noise level matched that of an Airbus A-220.

"It seems the Magic 8 Ball helped me win my $20 bet on our home team," I said confidently to my wife. "Probably just by chance, but who knows? I could use it to predict Friday's lottery numbers."

She smiled and told me to give it a shot, but I knew it was futile. Just like trying not to wake Anna up while leaving for work, it always ended with her sensing the creaking floorboards. About a few days had passed before we ended up having a heated argument about the dreaded topic of having kids in the future, I of course never want the sobbing, snot wheezing kids that take up 150% of your future time and life that could be used for retirement time in Hawaii. But, of course, she had bipolar opposite views on the topic. She wanted kids, perhaps to sow our six-year marriage back together. I, on the other hand, was dead set against it, feeling as if she were trying to force feed me a hefty dose of the plague. At the time, I had just stormed out of the room to cool off and muttered something I still regret to this day.

"Damn it, when will my wife's obsession with having kids ever end?" I grumbled to myself in frustration.

Suddenly, the 8 ball I'd left in the den flashed with a bright white light, like a screen turning on. Just as quickly, the flash disappeared, replaced by a simple message on its black surface.

"Soon enough, Derrick," the ball read, almost mockingly.

My focus shifted from Anna's relentless talk about kids to the unnerving fact that the 8 ball not only knew my name but also had an answer for such a ridiculous question. I hadn't even touched the thing-don't you need to shake it for it to work? At this point, I was tempted to toss that relic into the trash and be done with it, but being a bit stubborn, I decided to let the demonic thing be and left it to its own devices.

A few days had passed, and Anna and I had made up after our brief argument on that chilly Tuesday afternoon when I got home from work. She promised to hold off on bringing it up again for a while and to let me consider our options going forward. Life has been running smoothly again, and our home hockey team won their semi-finals match today, heading to the finals. Anna and I are caught up in the excitement of tomorrow night's game and are pretty pleased with how this year has gone, especially with our 7th anniversary just around the corner!

Work has been dragging lately, and I find myself just wanting to fast-forward to the day I wake up next to Anna and kiss her passionately on our long-awaited 7th anniversary, which is now just a few days away. As for the 8 ball of unknown origin, it's still just sitting dormant in the den. To be honest, I'm quite surprised it hasn't detonated or flashbanged me again whenever I step in there to grab some work files on clients. But no, it just sits there menacingly, waiting to tell me something I don't want to hear.

So, I don't quite know how to put it, but... well, Anna had a tragic accident on our anniversary, which was yesterday. W-We were just heading out to the local donut shop around noon, and I had the 8 ball with me, intending to toss it in the trash on the way there. As we neared the intersection on 136th street, the light was red, so I asked the 8 ball one last time.

"Will the light turn green soon?" I asked, smiling at my excited wife.

"Unfortunately, yes," the 8 ball replied simply.

I showed Anna the response, and she chuckled at the answer, thinking the toy wanted us to be stuck at the red light. As the light turned green, we started across the intersection, but suddenly, a sharp jolt threw me against the window beside me, plunging my vision into darkness. When I came to, I was engulfed in a searing migraine, my left arm shattered and twisted into unnatural angles, mirroring the wreckage of Anna's 2007 Nissan Murano. It took me a moment to grasp the gravity of the situation, the entire driver's side of the Murano was crushed. Panic gripped me as I saw Anna's hand, partially protruding from the mangled wreckage beside me. Her wedding ring clung tightly to her lifeless hand, the diamond atop it cracked.

Out of everything racing through my mind, the sudden shattering of my marriage and Anna being taken from me in an instant. The first thing I thought of, aside from the devastation, was where the goddamned magic 8 ball was. I wanted to crush it into ash, just like my world had crumbled before me. Before I could cry out for help, my vision tunneled and then faded to darkness.

I woke up not long after in what seemed to be a hospital room. My brother Andrew was slumped over asleep in the chair next to my bed. It appeared to be early morning, as it was pitch black outside with hardly any traffic. I coughed a bit on the tube down my throat and, ignoring any safety precautions, yanked it out, which hurt like a son of a bitch. This alerted Andrew to the fact that I was awake, and he practically leapt from his chair to hug me, nearly squeezing me back into unconsciousness.

"Oh my god, I'm so relieved you ain't dead, Derrick," Andrew cried, soaking my gown with his tears.

"What on God's holy earth happened?" I asked him, dreading the sorrowful answer I knew was coming.

Over the course of about 4-7 minutes, I was told that as we made it halfway through the intersection on 136th street, a semi-truck barreled through the red light but realized it too late. The driver tried to swerve out of the way, but the trailer jackknifed and smashed into the driver's side of our little Nissan, crushing Anna almost instantly. At least she didn't have to endure a prolonged and agonizing death; her skull shattered on impact, like a water balloon. In the wreckage, they found a battered magic 8 ball that still displayed those fateful words:

"Unfortunately, yes"...