Can Fiction Cause Reality?

I had never bought a state lottery ticket. I looked in the local paper and found the date of the next big drawing. I knew my story had to be submitted at least four days before, so it would be posted. The story was posted in the nonerotic section, about a man, who suspected his wife of an affair. The man, who my story identified as Donny, bought a $20 ticket, won, and escaped to a better life.

I bought a ticket and awaited the drawing.

The winning number in the lottery contained not a single number I picked.

I thought about it. I did not suspect my wife of an affair. Why would the story come true?

Maybe talking with my wife would yield an answer to my problem and help us find our way toward being close, again.

<><><><>

Patty was home early and in a good mood. She spent time with both kids, then some alone time with Michelle. Things were looking good. I'd made a nice dinner. As usual, when dinner was finished phones, tablets, computers, and videos call. The children were mist in the wind.

"Patty, do you have a minute? I have something important."

"That sounds ominous, sure. What's up?"

"I have been trying to write some stories that will be seen by a lot of people. I found an erotic story website and have posted several stories over the last little bit." I paused to see her reaction. She had none.

"Go on."

"I wrote two particularly dark tales where a cheating husband and cheating wife get together and in one case their car slips into a lake and they drown, in the other story they are mauled by alligators."

"Yuck. And people read these stories?"

"Tons of them both stories have more than 50,000 hits."

"Wow. So?"

"Within a few days of both stories being posted, they actually happened."

She looked away, then back at me. So, you wrote masturbation fantasies and people then, actually masturbated?"

"Patty, that's not what I described. If you don't want to talk to me about my concerns, say so."

"I'm sorry, I have real problems. You have gotten so lost in being an author you are seeing things. Meanwhile, I am trying to decide if my future lies in pursuing the CEO of Global or moving to another company."

"Moving to another company? You are considering that?"

"Duh."

"Why haven't you told me about this?"

"Denny, you are too busy playing catch with your son, wondering how Nikki is going to run her campaign, and apparently writing porn-come-true to bother you with my career. Besides, how could you help?"

I decided that was a shot to create some fight she wanted to have. My experience told me not to fight on someone else's ground. More than that, demeaning what I do and denying I could help or even should have information about her career is more than an argument - it is an announcement of the end of a marriage.

I need to hire someone to find out what is going on. I know my old company does the payroll for a couple of them...

"Hello! Earth to Denny. Aren't you going to respond? Or are you lost in some writer's fantasy."

"Oh, excuse me. I was put in my place, what could I say to help? I didn't think a response was either indicated or welcome."

"So, now you are going to pout. People in my world fight when challenged." She was smiling like she'd hit a homerun.

"People in my world love each other and don't face challenges."

She raised up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I looked at my watch, "My, my look at the time. Tomorrow's a busy day. I must water the carpet and vacuum the plants, or something like that. Nothing for you to worry about. I'll take care of it. Nice chat." She was talking to my back as I walked to the guest bedroom.

I got settled in bed. I was not surprised she did not pursue the discussion. This bedroom was next to Michelle's and any discussion was likely to wake her and add to other problems.

Another career? I can't help? She has changed her whole view of her life. Of our life. It no longer includes me. I was sad. Not sad enough. Why?

We have been friends who were lovers, too. We have been partners who were married, too. Our individual lives were made better by our joint life. Now, she is not part of that. I wished my writing had led to a published novel, sooner. But just a few months ago, she enjoyed thinking through with me how we could create this character and situation, which would be both entertaining and informative.

It is a huge loss. I had a life few ever experience. But - "I had" is operative. Patty Comstock would never have said anything approaching what Pat Welch just laid on me. I am going to find out why.

But this is like a death. She is gone. I have two children and my own life. I must figure out how to go on. When that path is clear, I can be sad and mourn my loss.

After the traditional morning on-the-edge-of-madness routine, I called my former partner and got the name of two good investigative firms. The first I called gave me quite a shock. When I told them who I wanted to surveil, they told me the other PI firm I was planning on calling had nearly all their employees working for my wife. Some sort of industrial espionage.

I was talking with Jim Keller, the owner of Discreet Investigations. "Dennis, I know the owner of our rival quite well. In fact, that is how I know about this big case they are on. Let me talk with him and see if he can give me any insights."

"Look, I don't want to tip my wife off by one firm talking to the other."

"Not going to happen. He can't reveal much, because of client privilege. I will tell him I have a client, so I can't say anything, either. But we know how to get at helping one another. We are forced to do it more than either of us would publicly admit."

We parted and I had to fill some time, waiting. I decided I wanted to create a story, with a fatal ending, caused by the unwilling cuckold. I called the story Natural High. Set in Oregon, Dirk Williams knows his wife, Nikki is cheating on him. He is actively plotting to get out of the marriage - her survival is optional.

Dirk, Nikki, and her lover are all great nature enthusiasts. All spend much of their free time exploring the natural wonders of Oregon. Dirk knows something is amiss when Nikki wants to go out, on her own, or with a couple of girlfriends. GNO are primarily spent in bars and dance clubs, not the wilderness. It doesn't take Daniel Boone to catch her in the woods with her lover.

I left it vague in the story, but while on one of her overnights, the lovers cook up a natural stew with some deadly mushrooms. Too far remote to get immediate medical help, both die from the stew. The vagary was in whether Dirk added the mushrooms, or the couple mistakenly added the poisonous fungi to their own stew.

In the story it was clear to the reader and to the police investigating the deaths that the deceased knew local fauna too well to make the error. Yet, there was no indication anyone else had been near them. Dirk had a perfect alibi; he was also in a remote location, too far away to have gotten close to his cheating wife.

I looked at the story. It had practically written itself. The problem was I wanted it to be a dress rehearsal of my own personal story. If I submitted Natural High and two lovers turned up poisoned in Oregon, it would lead to me. There would be no real way to prosecute me, since I have never been to Oregon, but it would be a murder mystery written by me - predicting actual murders.

Quite different from two stories predicting accidental deaths.

Worse yet, if my dear wife ended up murdered, no alibi I could ever create would be sufficient if I had written a tale predicting the precise manner of her murder. No, a story with a murder could not be something on my computer. I deleted Natural High.

<><><><>

I got a call late in the afternoon. "Mr. Comstock, this is Jim Keller from Discreet. I have some information for you."

"Wow! Quick turnaround. What did you find out?"

"Turns out the probe into your wife's company was not what the company thought. The other company was not looking for secrets - they were looking for a new leader. But here, it gets interesting. Your wife has authorized payment for 8 investigators, for my guess is nearly a month, but has no work for them. She has also requested that the report of the investigation be delayed until work is complete."

"Why would she do that?"

"Speculation on my part, but I would guess it is something like this. When she learned the probe was just head-hunting, your wife liked the job. She didn't want to report findings until she had secured the job. Now, she is trying to figure out how she can wrap things up honestly - trouble is she can't. She is paying for a false investigation to enable her switching companies."

"How did you get this?"

"My competition is honest, and they are pissed. They have had eight investigators on assignment for a while, he would not say how long, doing - nothing."

"So what?"

"Who would do that? A minimum of ten grand a week to get, nothing? So, they are wasting time for some subterfuge. It is a tempting thing - double billing. One can send investigators out to do work and those investigators get paid and they are already getting paid."

"Why is that a problem?"

"When it becomes obvious the payments are for something illegal, they cannot be accepted. How long can one presume payment for work not done is legitimate?"

"My guess would be the first check when no work was done?"

"Well, Mr. Comstock, therein lies the rub, as they say. They were asked about espionage. Then, asked to delay the report. Every day they get a little more nervous. Today I call with questions. It doesn't matter what questions; it tells them the stench of this work is going into the public arena. They must stop taking money and submit their report."

"My wife texted me; she has a business dinner this evening. Can you follow her?"

"Sure, if she is at work, leaves by car, and eats somewhere public."

"Let's try it and see what we learn." I don't know why I asked him to do that. What did I need to learn? Maybe confirmation was what I was looking for.

Keller got it arranged. If things went well, I'd see and hear it live.

Patty was in a restaurant of one of the hotels in town. Strictly tourist class and not somewhere she would be expected. She was facing the camera, and her, I guess her date had his back to it. I was sure I did not know him. They had been there a few minutes and had obviously been talking enroute. The video joined them in progress, as they say.

"Trish, it has to be at least a month, six weeks is much safer." Trish - not Patty, my name for her, or Pat, her work moniker, Trish - obviously her new lover had a new pet name for her.

"I can't wait that long. That worthless pile of lethargy, I call a husband, brings me down more with every encounter."

"I can't believe he is that bad." He said it like he wanted her to reconsider, rather than like he had any belief as to my worth.

"To tell you the truth, I can't either - but he is. He sits at home and does nothing. My daughter is a mess, due to his neglect. My son is a worthless dolt, like his father." I was so glad I was alone. How could she have gone from what she had always been - to this? David is a straight A student. He plays on the soccer team. He is wildly popular in his class. I have been her soulmate and am now a worthless dolt.

"Have you decided about the children?"

"He spends parts of every day undermining who I am. He has turned them against me. At times it seems simplest just to leave them all behind. But what kind of mother does that? You might be right, we either must ruin him or dispose of him, and that will allow me to win the children back."

What on earth is going on? Who is this woman? Dispose of him! Really?

I had this weird feeling when my fiction became fact - things like that don't happen. My wife going from loving friend and loyal partner to "dispose of him" is even stranger.

My time thinking through a new story, about my wife and her lover had not been wasted. I had even gotten a rough plot in mind.

I had come up with Dead Man's Curve. The story was easy. What was difficult was the execution (pun intended). No matter what she had become, could I write words that led my wife to a bad fate?

Alternatively, I could sit around and wait for her to deal me a bad fate. Hmmmmm - not much of a contest, when you think about it.

<><><><>

My wife's name (Trish Welch) is the only one which appears in the story. I decided to use her real name, not some close approximation. Like Lake and Gator the story involved an accident - and if I must say so, myself - punished the cheating pair as fit the crime.

The story revolved around a severe curve on the county road just outside of town. A huge oak tree stands just off the road. More than one car has missed that curve and crashed into the ancient tree.

In my story, the driver missed the turn, not because of his speed, but because my wife was head down in his "lap" which distracted him.

I uploaded the story Wednesday morning. It posted on the website, Friday night.

<><><><>

Saturday, 11:43 pm

I opened my front door. Two police officers were standing there.

"Are you Mr. Dennis Comstock?"

"I am, how may I help, officers?"

"I am afraid I have very bad news for you, sir. Your wife was killed in a car accident this evening."

"Oh, my. Could you gentlemen come in? I'd like to sit down."

They did come in and we all sat in the living room.

"How? Where"?" I tried to look bewildered.

"Are you familiar with the so-called dead man's curve?"

"Yes, I am. On some county road, just outside of town. Is that where it happened? Just one car, then?"

"Yes, and she was the sole fatality. The driver was severely injured."

I looked at him blankly and said, "She bit his dick off and choked on it?"

"Well... yes, Mr. Comstock, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."