Misfortune


Mom told me that our family was cursed, and that I needed to find a way to break it if I wanted to be free. My grandfather had been an infamous swindler, and Mom and Dad had both been enablers of his notorious work before I was born. However, Grandpa had once attempted to con the wrong person, or at least whom he thought was a regular person. That individual turned out to be a trickster god in human disguise, and they cursed Grandpa and all his descendants to fail whatever venture they undertake until they learned how to break the curse.


Misfortune soon befell out families, as my aunt fell back in her field as a doctor and my uncle lost his popularity as an artist. Mom and Dad, who had been reliant on Grandpa for part of their “income” at the time, struggled to make ends meet from that point forward. No one ever heard from the trickster god since that day, and there were no clues or knowledge anyone in the family could find that would help break the curse, no matter how hard they searched. Grandpa was imprisoned for his crimes six months after the curse was placed on us, the same day as I was born.


Growing up, I found myself lagging behind as most of my classmates breezed through their exams. No matter how hard I tried, I always found myself running in circles. I hated it, but there was nothing I could do. I wished there was a way I could turn things around—I wished I could break free from the curse and forge my own path ahead—but where was I to start? I wanted to be a chef, but I feared I’d burn down any establishment with my luck. Towards the latter stage of my teen years, I gave up on my studies and decided to hunt for jobs that didn’t require much effort. I moved out of my parents’ house and found myself a cheap apartment in the neighbourhood I worked in.


Everything seemed fine for a few months, but then inflation threw me off-course. Desperate, and not wanting to return home in shame, I decided to take a risk. If misfortune followed me wherever I went, what else did I have to lose? And so I decided to follow my grandfather’s footsteps, but also do things differently. I would target only the corrupt. If I were to be successful, it would mean I could even help out more people like me who were struggling each day to stay alive. A lot of us were cursed, in a way.


For the first time in my life, I found misfortune smiling upon me. My misdeeds paid well, and I conned many corrupt politicians and businessmen, leeching off large sums that I could share with the less fortunate while also keeping myself afloat. I expected to be caught at some point, but the longer I carried on, the more successful I became. I was able to move from city to city, stealing from the biggest thieves in the area and returning it all to those from whom they stole it. By that time, I had made enough money for myself that I didn’t need to continue my conwork, but I persisted just to help the less fortunate, for once the curse I was born with was giving me the luck I never found growing up.


My work continued for five years as I evaded the police with remarkable ease—until I had covered every corner of my country and ensured that I helped whoever I could whenever I could. I was happy knowing I had helped countless people. It was at this moment that I met the last person I expected to ever meet. One night, as I was reading a book while staying at a cheap motel, I was visited by the same trickster god who had cursed my family. I was speechless when they revealed who they were, but they simply smiled and said I had made them proud. They informed me that I had slowly undone the curse over the past half a decade, and that all my family and relatives were doing just fine. At long last, we were free.

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