THE GIRL WHO CARRIED KARMA

Ashford was the kind of town where nothing truly stayed secret. News traveled through the narrow streets faster than the wind that curled between the old brick buildings. A broken window, a new couple, a family argument—within hours the entire town would know. And yet, despite Ashford’s love for gossip, there was one subject people spoke about only in whispers. Lena Vale. Even saying her name felt like breaking an unspoken rule. On a gray autumn morning, the town square buzzed with its usual quiet activity. The café doors swung open and shut as customers came and went, the bell above the door chiming softly each time. Inside, two women sat by the window, sipping coffee. “Did you see her yesterday?” one asked quietly. The other stiffened. “Who?” “You know who.” The second woman glanced toward the street before leaning closer. “Lena Vale?” The name hung between them like something fragile. The first woman nodded. “She walked past the market. Gloves on again.” “Of course she had gloves,” the other muttered. “She always does.” They both looked out the window. At that exact moment, Lena Vale passed by. She walked with quiet confidence, her long dark coat swaying gently with each step. Her hands were tucked into the pockets, covered by thin black gloves despite the mild weather. Her expression was calm, distant. Like someone who had learned to live behind invisible walls. People stepped slightly aside as she passed. Not dramatically. Not obviously. Just enough to keep their distance. A delivery boy nearly brushed against her before quickly stopping himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backing away. Lena gave a small nod and continued walking. The café women watched until she disappeared around the corner. “Still gives me chills,” one whispered. “You remember what happened to Mark, don’t you?” “Everyone remembers.” And they did. No one in Ashford ever forgot the first incident. Lena had been ten years old. Just a quiet girl in a classroom with twenty other children. It had been a normal day until an argument broke out between her and a boy named Mark. No one even remembered what they were arguing about. Children argued about everything. But Mark had lost his temper. He grabbed Lena’s wrist hard enough to leave red marks. The teacher had scolded him. Lena had said nothing. Two hours later, during recess, Mark ran down the school staircase. His foot slipped. He tumbled down the entire flight. Both legs broken. The doctors called it a terrible accident. The teachers agreed. But the students noticed something strange. Mark had grabbed Lena. And then something bad happened. At the time, it meant nothing. Just a coincidence. Or at least, that’s what everyone believed. Until it happened again. Lena turned down a quiet street lined with tall oak trees. Leaves rustled softly under her boots. She knew people talked about her. She had heard the whispers since childhood. Cursed girl. Bad luck. Strange things happen around her. Lena didn’t blame them. If she had heard the stories about someone else, she might have been afraid too. But the truth was far worse than the rumors. Because the rumors were real. The first time Lena realized it, she had been thirteen. A man tried to steal her backpack while she walked home from school. He grabbed the strap and yanked. Lena pulled back instinctively. Their hands touched. The man cursed and ran off with nothing. The next day, the news spread through town. A motorcyclist had crashed directly into a parked police car while speeding through an intersection. The rider was arrested immediately. When Lena saw the man’s face in the newspaper, her stomach dropped. It was the same man. The same one who grabbed her bag. After that, Lena started noticing the pattern. A shove in a crowded train. Lightning striking a power pole near the man’s house hours later. A bully pushing her at school. That same bully breaking his arm during a soccer game the next day. At first Lena told herself it was coincidence. It had to be. Because the alternative was too terrifying. But coincidence couldn’t explain everything. The pattern was too clear. Too consistent. Anyone who touched Lena Vale with anger, cruelty, or greed… Eventually suffered terrible karma. By the time she turned seventeen, Lena had created strict rules for herself. Rules she never broke. Always wear gloves. Never stand too close to strangers. Avoid crowds whenever possible. Never let anyone grab her hand. The rules kept other people safe. But they also kept Lena alone. Loneliness had become her quiet companion. She didn’t hate people. She feared hurting them. Or worse. Feared discovering what would happen if someone tried to hurt her again. Lena reached the end of the oak-lined street and stopped at a crosswalk. A group of teenagers stood nearby. They were talking loudly. One of them noticed her. “That’s her,” he whispered. Another boy frowned. “Who?” The first boy lowered his voice. “Lena Vale.” The group instantly grew quiet. One girl crossed her arms nervously. “Is it true?” “What?” “That weird stuff happens to people who touch her.” The boy shrugged. “My cousin swears it’s real.” Lena stared straight ahead at the traffic light. She pretended not to hear them. But she heard everything. The light turned green. She stepped forward and crossed the street alone. Behind her, the teenagers kept whispering. Because in Ashford, everyone knew one rule. Never touch Lena Vale without permission. Because the last person who tried it didn't end so well and he ended up having a huge accident.