I used to dismiss the synchronicities as coincidences.
In primary school, I remember insulting a boy. The next day, another boy insulted me.
Whilst playing football, I accidentally kicked a friend in the shins. That evening, when I was riding my bike, the pedals slammed into my shins.
I punched a bully, causing his left eye to swell and bruise. The next day, on the playground, a basketball hit me in the face, causing my left eye to swell and bruise.
One morning, I pinched a few pounds from my sister’s piggy bank. Then, when I arrived at school, an older kid stole that money from me.
Coincidences, right? I’ve always thought so. In fact, when I became a teenager, I conducted extensive research on the subject. It was confirmation bias, I decided. I was ignoring all of the events that didn’t fit the pattern. That must be it.
The thing is that I’m a good person. I don’t often say mean things about people, and I have never physically hurt someone out of malice. So, I don’t necessarily have an abundance of evidence to support my hypothesis. Still, I have, on occasion, caused harm to people in my life, as has everyone. And I’m absolutely certain that some force in the universe (perhaps a judgemental higher power) always makes sure that the exact same harm is caused to me.
I don’t make a habit of physically harming people, so most of my examples are forms of emotional harm. During my teenage years, I certainly did lots of stupid things and was dealt Karma’s heavy blow in return. I ditched a friend at a party, and then my other friend ditched me. I left my girlfriend for someone prettier, and my new girlfriend left me for someone more handsome. Karma.
I’m now in my late twenties. I always hoped I’d eventually grow out of this superstitious fear, but the coincidences just keep happening. I was a manager for a major legal firm, and it’s a cut-throat industry. I made an employee redundant because we had to find ways to reduce spending. I wasn’t too surprised when I faced the same fate. Three weeks later, my superior shut down our entire branch, making me redundant.
Perhaps you need more evidence. I’m only just getting warmed up, okay?
I cooked a meal for my friends. I’m vegetarian, but I didn’t want to force that on my meat-eating pals, so I prepared a chicken tikka masala for them. Foolishly, I didn’t cook the chicken for long enough, and they all ended up with food poisoning. I was fine. Three days later, however, I ended up with food poisoning after eating at a local restaurant. I had never felt so helpless. I have emetophobia, and that sort of experience leaves me believing that I might die. I sobbed for hours.
Do you need another example? Several months ago, my girlfriend tripped over one of the shoes I left in the hallway, and she ended up with a few nasty cuts on her forehead. Later that evening, I was brushing my teeth, and the bathroom bulb spontaneously blew. The glass shattered above me, shards rained down on my face, and I received a few cuts that accurately mirrored the ones my girlfriend had acquired.
I remember shivering silently in the corner of the bathroom. I wasn’t a child. I was a fully-grown man. Shivering. Crying. I couldn’t dismiss it as coincidence anymore. There was a sinister force at play. Something was judging my every move. It was punishing me for causing harm, whether intentionally or unintentionally.
Are you convinced? Maybe you would believe me if you’d spent the last 29 years in my shoes. These events aren’t coincidences. There are too many to count.
This thought has always filled me with existential dread. I lie awake at night, staring into the darkness of my bedroom and fully believing that something stares back at me. It is not some benevolent deity. It is something cruel and unholy.
There has always been a sinister aspect to the retribution that the universe has dealt. I have thought that since the very beginning. I remember when I insulted my classmate and first noticed Karma’s cold touch. I remember the boy who insulted me in the same way. There was something emotionless and evil about the vitriol that he spewed from his mouth. It was almost as if he were a puppet for something far greater than either of us.
I have always tried to reassure myself that I can stay safe if I just treat others well. I just have to avoid harming people. I thought I could lead a relatively normal life. As I said, I’m a good person. I try not to cause harm. Most of the harm I’ve inflicted has been minor and accidental.
Last night, however, everything changed.
I was at the local pub with my girlfriend and a few close friends. We were having a merry time. Everyone in the pub was having a merry time. One man, in particular, was a little too merry.
“Hello, gorgeous,” The stranger said to my girlfriend, Lauren. “Want a drink?”
I’m not the jealous, over-protective type. I turned my head to face Lauren, and she gave me a look that said she would handle it.
“I’m not interested,” Lauren firmly replied.
The man spat at her. “Well, fuck you.”
“Hey!” I shouted. “Apologise for that.”
The man laughed and asked, “Wanna fuckin’ fight, y’ponce?”
“No,” I replied, looking to the bartender. “I think you should leave.”
Things escalated rapidly. The man shoved me away from him, then he raised his fists. One of my friends stepped between us, and the aggressive stranger immediately landed a right hook, knocking him to the floor.
I saw red.
Before Lauren, the bartender, or any of my friends had a chance to stop me, I charged at the violent man and swung for his face.
One punch.
He fell backwards.
What I did not intend was for the man’s head to connect with the sharp edge of the step behind him.
Paramedics arrived quickly, but they weren’t quick enough. The blow had killed him.
One punch.
One stupid punch.
I’ve spent all day in bed. I’m wracked with guilt, obviously. My friends have tried to console me. They think I’m worried about prison, but I have plenty of legal connections, so I could easily get out of this mess.
However, that won’t help me beat Karma, will it?
I don’t know how long I have.
As I lie in my bed, staring at the black ceiling above me, I find myself searching in the darkness. I’m searching for the thing that will exact its horrible punishment. Every creak in the house fills me with unimaginable fright. Every time I hear a wisp of wind outside my window, I believe that the glass might break, inviting some terrifying entity into my room.
It is currently 4:49am. I am quaking under my duvet. Now, I’m hearing aggressive knocks on my front door. The person (or thing, perhaps) on my front porch has persisted for the past 10 minutes.
I’m too terrified to move. With every deafening thump on my front door, I retreat a little farther beneath my duvet. I can see what might happen. An intruder barges in, deals a fatal blow to my head, and I meet my end.
I could ring the police, but I know that won’t save me. The universe always finds another way to exact justice.