Kismet - Short Story Written by Laura Oreva


I'd always been a believer. From the little girl of eleven who was separated from her parents, to the woman I was now.

Twelve years ago

Blood. Gunshots. Screams of agony pierced the still night air.

They had come again, and this time they wanted blood.

Grandpa was telling his nighttime stories when we heard the first shot. He paused for a while and listened, before dismissing it as the sound of a neighbour chopping firewood that late.
He hadn't gone far, before the sounds began again and papa rushed in and told us to file outside as quietly as we could through the back door. 

The stench of burning thatch and flesh filled the air. The night was aglow from the flames burning all around. Baby wouldn't stop crying. She couldn't understand why she'd been roused roughly from her sleep.

I slipped my small hands into mama's own, and she guarded me along, as my legs had failed me from fear.

The trek was long and full of twists and turns. Low branches tore at my skin. I'd stepped twice into some thick, slippery liquid, but mama would cover my eyes and refuse to let me look. I was already getting tired  of walking, my legs were hurting. Baby had fallen asleep again.
We had already entered grandpa's farm when it happened.

My body was pulled down suddenly as mama's weight collapsed on me.

She managed to open her mouth and whisper to me, just as papa and grandpa fell down with grunts and stopped moving. Run, she said.
I was only a little girl faced with the decision of taking baby along or not.

I was scared but the sound of footsteps drawing nearer hastened my decision and I strapped baby to my back and started running. I knew I couldn't outrun these men, so I did the only thing my little mind could think of, and hid in a ditch where papa kept palm kernel shells, praying for baby to remain silent.

I waited there for hours, and woke up to find sunlight streaming into the hole. I'd slept off from exhaustion, and baby had mercifully been quiet.

Gingerly, I made my way out of the ditch, after making sure the noise had stopped, and retraced my way to the village.

I was hungry, and baby needed to be fed. 
I passed a lot of corpses on the road, including that of mama, papa and grandpa. I was scarred for life.

I'd later made my way to a nearby village, and gotten adopted by a couple after they'd heard my story.

Baby got adopted by another couple and they left the village, finally separating me from the last of my kin.

I was a lonely little girl, with scars etched too deep into my memory, that I found it hard making friends.


I'd grown up to be a beautiful woman. I fell in love and got married to a man who was nearly twice my age.

Our marriage was okay. We loved and respected each other, but I always felt he was hiding his past.

We'd been married two years when I discovered his hideous secret.

I'd stumbled upon an old chest, where he kept valuable items.

There I saw mama's ivory pendant and papa's beads. I'd know those things anywhere, seeing as I was always making them take these items off, so I'd admire them.

That was when realization hit me. Only one person would have these things as souvenirs.
I was married to the man who had killed my family.

I was too shocked to cry. I knew what I had to do.
I prepared his favourite meal, and  still let him paw my body till he fell over satiated and promptly went to sleep.

With my hands shaking, I picked the knife I had hidden under the bed... and plunged it into the left side of his chest.

I didn't stop there. I went on till I was spent, all the while screaming like a deranged woman.


He had come back to me, to suffer for his sins.
And I was willing to be his punisher.
Consequences be damned.

Written by Laura Oreva

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