There's a great project started by Ryan North (of Dinosaur Comics fame) called Machine of Death. Basically, in one of the comics, T-Rex suggests the premise for a story (check it out!) where a machine is invented that predicts the manner in which you will die. The machine is always accurate, if a little vague. For example, a prediction of Joy could mean that you experience so much joy your heart gives out, or it could mean a lady named Joy shoots you.
People thought this was a cool idea and over 600 people submitted actual short stories. An edited anthology is now available and I've spent the day reading it. It is an excellent writing prompt. What death would it spit out for me, I wonder? Probably diabetes. My reaction would be to cycle between eating ridiculously healthily and binging uncontrollably on sweets, for circa 60 years, I would wager. Or perhaps I would not seek to know my death, and live a dignified life. My husband is rofl-ing after that sentence, I'm sure.
Or, imagine a world where everything is perfectly predicted, and the Machine of Death is actually the shoddiest in a whole series of machines that predict your job, your hobbies, your spouse, how many children you will have, your greatest fear and your greatest desire, all with perfect clarity of meaning. In that world, death is the only great surprise. All works of literature and art would be great tales of unexpected deaths.
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