Feel-Good Story Karma Short Stories & Novels

At the Halloween Carnival, my younger brother and I got separated. Not long after, the headless body of a teenage boy was found in an alley. My father was consumed with rage—he blamed me entirely. He locked me in the chapel and forced me to chant prayers and light candles for my brother's soul for eighty-one days and nights. After that, he had me sold to a brothel in the city's red-light district, so I could spend the rest of my life atoning for my brother. He instructed the brothel manager there to give me only the most depraved clients—and to make sure I was left barely breathing. The brothel manager, paid to follow orders, assigned me to women with twisted tastes. Night after night, I was tormented. When I came down with consumption, I was denied any care. The hands I'd once used to turn pages—the hands of a scholar—were deliberately broken, crushing whatever hope I had left for the future. Eventually, one client went too far, and I died on the bed. The brothel manager had my body rolled up in a straw mat and dumped in a mass grave outside town. A year later, on New Year's Eve, my brother came back.

I sold my $3,500 top-spec laptop for scrap for seventy dollars. In my last life, my roommate Caleb's laptop crashed right before his senior thesis deadline. "Noah, the submission portal is about to close. Please lend me your laptop!" I agreed without hesitation. Then he forgot to save his work, downloaded malware by mistake, lost his entire thesis, and had to repeat the year. Afterward, his parents and relatives stormed the university, accusing me of sabotaging his laptop because I was jealous of his graduate admission slot. The story blew up online. Everyone called me a vicious, scheming college guy. My father tried to clear my name and was beaten to death by extremists who thought they were defending justice. Because of that stain, every job search collapsed. In the end, I jumped from a building in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of graduation defense. I had just sold the laptop cheap when Caleb came running in, covering his face and crying. "Noah, my laptop died. Lend me yours!" I kept playing on my phone without looking up. "If you're writing your thesis, go use the computer lab. Why come to me?"

I was born a half-Alpha. My father was a powerful Alpha, while my mother was only an Omega. For as long as I could remember, the wolves in my pack had mocked me, taunted me, and called me cruel names. I thought everything would change when I turned eighteen. And it did—just not in the way I expected. I didn’t suddenly become stronger. The other wolves still bullied me whenever they pleased. Desperate to save Mother and myself from being cast out, I entered the annual Royal Selection. Who could have known that I would find my true family there—and awaken the Lycan power sleeping inside me? It turned out I had never been merely a half-blood. I was the last direct heir of the Lycan royal bloodline.

As the most powerful witch in the pack, I gritted my teeth and swallowed the poison before the new Luna's ascension, destroying my own gift of foresight. In my last life, I had divined that the new Luna was a spy sent by the vampires, and that she would bring about the pack's destruction. When I begged Alpha Hall to banish her, someone reported me for coveting the Luna position, accusing me of selfish motives. Alpha Hall led a search of my quarters, and somehow, a letter conspiring with vampires was found under my bed. The moment Luna saw it, she flung herself into Hall's arms and sobbed with wounded innocence: "Bella, I know you've been in love with our Alpha, but you can't just frame me because you're jealous!" Hall flew into a rage, declared me a liar and a threat, and ordered me nailed to the stake and burned alive. As the flames swallowed me, I saw Luna grinning at me, twisted and cruel, her lips parting to reveal the glint of vampire fangs. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before Luna's binding ceremony. The very moment Hall commanded me to beseech the Moon Goddess's blessing for his beloved.

My roommate, Andrew Hayes, has become obsessed with this viral tiramisu place off campus. Every night without fail, he brings a box of it back. He tries to sell us on it more than once. Supposedly the texture is silky and rich, and it melts in the mouth. I just can't be bothered to care. Everything changes on the day before the grad school recommendation list is posted. My pen is moving across the page of a paper when something at the edge of my vision suddenly catches my eye. A few lines of text have appeared. [Tonight, your roommate, Andrew, will ask you to help him buy tiramisu from that viral dessert shop. After he eats it, he'll rush out of the dorm. The next day, the police will take you away on charges of aggravated assault. [Online exposés will say you attacked your roommate out of jealousy, and the Internet will explode with outrage. Relentless cyberbullying will consume your life. Even your parents will get dragged down with you and lose their steady jobs. Ultimately, you'll be driven into a mental breakdown and die from depression.] I figure I've started hallucinating after finally cracking under the pressure, so I toss the workbook aside. That night, Andrew pushes open the dorm room door. His tone is easy and familiar as he asks, "Luke, grab me a tiramisu on your way back, okay?" My brain blanks for a second. This scene matches the prediction word for word. Andrew's smile is bright and sunny as he walks closer, but I only feel a chill down my spine because of one of the prediction's sentences. [After you're taken in for questioning, you'll miss your interview. The guaranteed grad school spot will fall right into Andrew's lap.] Is Andrew really going to ruin my entire life over a single guaranteed grad school slot? My grip tightens around my pen. I say, "Sorry, Andrew. It's not really convenient for me."

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”

I was the greatest healer in the pack. There wasn't a single poisoning in the world I couldn't cure. My mate, Liam, was an Alpha suffering from wolfsbane poisoning, and his life hung by a thread. To rid himself of the toxin, he chose me as his mate. On the very night of our marking ceremony, the shewolf he truly loved, Camilla, who was also the witch who claimed her potions could save him, threw herself off a cliff. The moment I finished purging the toxin from his body, Liam turned around and plunged a dagger coated in wolfsbane straight through my heart. "You killed Camilla. You can be buried with her." His gaze was cold and devoid of even a trace of tenderness. The fur blanket we had lain on moments before became my shroud. After I died, my body was dumped in the wasteland and left for vultures to devour completely. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the old Alpha of Silver Moon Pack personally came to my cabin to ask for my hand on Liam's behalf. Looking at Liam, who sat rigidly with clear reluctance on his face, I smiled. "I may not be able to purge the toxin in Liam's body, and I have no desire to become his mate." The moment I said that, the eyes of a concerned-looking shewolf nearby lit up. "Evelyn, if you don't wish to become Liam's mate, will you consider my son instead?"

Ivory Stone has tried and failed to seduce her stoic steward 999 times. She thinks that maybe Wilson Quill doesn't have a heart. Maybe he won't ever fall in love with anyone. But one day, she catches him pleasuring himself with a bracelet belonging to the fake heiress who stole her life.

I came home from abroad earlier than originally planned. The moment I opened the door to my villa, though, a sharp slap struck my face. A young woman dressed in my late mother's silk nightgown lifted her chin with smug satisfaction. "Get the hell out of my house! Mr. Windsor already has someone to keep him company. Me! I rubbed my aching cheek and took a closer look at the young woman standing before me. Wow. She actually bore a faint resemblance to my beloved late mother! I scoffed. "You actually think a third-rate lookalike like you could join the prestigious Windsor family?" These gold diggers! It looked like one of them actually believed she could steal an heiress's birthright.

For three years straight, my father had taken the whole family on a Christmas trip. This year, even my newly-engaged fiancé tagged along. Everyone except me. "Chloe, Legal's swamped at year-end. You'd better stay and work—keep an eye on the house for us while you're at it. We won't book a ticket or hotel for you." My father's excuse sounded perfectly reasonable. Beside him, my mother and sister were already chatting about the snow-capped Alps, not a flicker of doubt that anything was off. And my fiancé, Jack, was helping them load luggage, grinning as he said he'd be the perfect German translator for the trip. For three years, they'd always found a reason to leave me behind. And for three years, I'd caved. Not this time. I didn't argue. I just watched them drive off. The moment the car disappeared, I walked into HR and dropped my resignation. Half a month later, my family flew back—only to find themselves locked out of the apartment. Key cards were all disabled. Security guards from the company were blocking the entrance. My father called, over and over. I didn't pick up. I just sent one message: "I quit. The company took back the executive apartment. Oh, and the engagement's off too. Happy New Year!"

Before my grandfather, the Don of the Rinaldi family, dies, he leaves behind a will. The five Principessas of the Rinaldi family are forbidden from using our family name. We must live like ordinary people until one of us gives birth to the first heir. Whoever does so will inherit everything. For three years, I keep my identity hidden. My husband, Oliver Wright, and I live in a cramped apartment to the south of Windmere. Every morning, we squeeze onto the subway to get to work. When we're short on money, we stay up late making plans and racking our brains trying to keep his small company afloat. I never think life is hard because I love him. One day, the doctor hands me my medical test results—I am the first one to become pregnant. Upon learning this, my whole body trembles with excitement. The life that Oliver and I have struggled toward for years suddenly feels within reach. I drive home with a happy smile on my face as I imagine how he will react. But when I push the door open, I see a woman wearing my favorite nightgown. She is sitting with Oliver, sharing the apple I left in the refrigerator with him. He takes a bite from her hand and glances at me casually. "My first love, Maeve Young, is back. Let's get a divorce." My fingers tighten around the pregnancy test report. Then, I smile and say, "Sure." What he doesn't know is that his penniless, patient, obedient, and endlessly forgiving wife has a last name powerful enough to open every door in Windmere. I will keep this child, and the family fortune will still pass to me. As for my husband, Oliver? I'm ready to let him go.

My boyfriend's mistress posted a pregnancy announcement with him on Instagram. They looked ridiculously happy. Then she tagged me and asked for my blessing in front of everyone. Naturally, the whole internet waited for me to tear her apart. They had every reason to expect bloodshed. I'd dragged myself out of the ruins of a crime family and fought my way to the top of Wall Street. Julian Rhodes, meanwhile, was the son of the nanny who had raised me. And Emily Nash? She was a medical intern who grew up in the slums. Soon, even underground bookies were taking bets on what I'd do. Half bet Emily wouldn't make it out alive. The rest bet Julian would die beside her. I did neither. Instead, I shocked everyone by congratulating them. There was a reason for that. A month earlier, Julian had been badly injured while protecting me during a shootout at the pier. The head injury had left him with an alternate personality. That other Julian had fallen hard for the first person he'd seen when he woke up—Emily. A few days earlier, Emily twisted her ankle as she walked past me. That alone was enough to bring out Julian's other personality. He grabbed an antique vase and smashed it against my forehead. Hot blood ran down my brow and into my eye. My hand went straight to the gun at my hip. Then I stopped myself. He laughed and pointed at me. "Caroline, touch Emily again, and the real Julian will never wake up. You'll never see him again." Julian had saved my life the night my family was wiped out. He also held the access keys to everything I owned. So if I wanted the real Julian back, I had no choice but to endure it.

Right after I hosted my first corporate gala as Sterling Corp's newly appointed COO, department manager Brenda Jenkins dragged me before the Pack Council court. She stood at the witness stand, sobbing her eyes out. She accused me, Vic Sterling, of raping her intern niece, Chloe Jenkins. "My Chloe just turned eighteen! She was ruined by Vic, this monster in a suit! Trash like him who abuses his power should be executed under pack law!" Her niece backed up the lie. "Vic said if I didn't strip, he'd snap my neck... I was so scared..." The Council members acting as the jury exploded with righteous fury. They demanded harsh punishment for this arrogant Alpha. "Animal! Vic is a shameless monster!" "Punish him! Don't let this beast in a suit get away with it!" The crowd howled for my death. Brenda and Chloe traded smug smirks. The judge raised his gavel to sentence me. Deadpan, I stripped off my jacket and ripped open my shirt, sneering at them. "As a female Alpha, please enlighten me... how exactly did I rape you?"

My best friend wanted to adopt an injured kitten. Seeing the cat’s unusual appearance, I suddenly recalled a state-protected animal called the manul. Its young resembled cats but were exceptionally ferocious. So, I advised her against keeping it. But my friend would not listen to me and brought it back to our rental apartment. Unexpectedly, the manul seemed to understand human emotions and harbored a grudge against me. Five years later, it suddenly burst into my home and killed my entire family. I lunged to kill it, only to have my throat torn. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend adopted the manul. This time, I did not stop her from taking it in.

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

I’m a vampire. Six hundred years old. Immortal. I once pulled a dying soldier from a pile of bodies. Gave him a new life with my blood and my money. I watched him build an empire that lasted twelve generations. Until this one. The heir, Stephen, is a genius. In his first year, he multiplied the company’s valuation thirtyfold. Everyone sees me as a leech. Feeding on the Blackwood family. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I just sip my evening vintage in my penthouse sanctuary. And collect my tribute at the end of the month. Until his fiancée, Victoria, walked up to me at the Winter Gala. “Yvette, Stephen’s too much of a gentleman to ask, so I’ll ask for him. Do you think it’s fair that you take sixty percent of the company's net profits every year?” “Three thousand employees in this company, and not one of them knows what you do. Let’s be blunt. You’re a shameless leech sucking us dry.” The room went dead silent. Stephen took her hand, but he didn’t stop her. He looked at me. His ice-blue eyes were filled with pity. “Yvette, times have changed. Power comes from what you contribute.” I nodded. I set down the crimson liquid. Times have certainly changed. But the blood pact this whole family was built on… It still holds my blood seal. The one I made six hundred years ago. If they break it… the luck and fortune they bought with my blood will all be ripped away.

My son has a high fever, so I call my husband. However, he thinks I'm using our child to get his attention. Then, he takes his true love's son to the hospital when he's only scratched his finger. I look at my son, whose face is pale. I ask, "Do you want another father?" He nods. "Yeah. Dad doesn't like me, so I don't want to like him anymore." Later, I find him another father. That's when my husband objects.

Throughout my seven years of living in this residential area, I've been helping my neighbors receive their parcels and babysit their children no matter how sudden the requests are. All sorts of delivered goods have gone through my hands, be it tiny regular parcels, special deliveries containing raw seafood, or furniture and electrical appliances. My motto is that close-knitted neighbors are more dependable rather than my family, who lives very far away from me. That's why I never hesitate to lend a helping hand as long as the circumstances permit me to do so. In fact, I often deliver everyone's parcels to their units. But one day, Carmen Webber, a young woman who has just moved into the apartment, brings this topic up during a casual chit-chat with the other neighbors. "Nowadays, the parcel lockers and the parcel pickup points are very convenient to use. There's absolutely no need to specifically get someone to sign your parcels for you. Could it be that Hilary is using the guise of doing things for everyone just to make some quick bucks under the table? "After all, those who accept parcels on behalf of others tend to get paid. You guys must have slipped her some money every time you drop by her place to pick up your stuff, right? Imagine how lucrative business must be for her!" Carmen then shoots me a glance, mockery dripping from her tone. The neighbors just swap looks with each other. Then, they turn their suspicious gazes to me. That's when Carmen adds, "Next time, you can seek me out when you need someone to accept parcels and babysit children for you. I have a lot of free time on my hands, and I promise that I won't earn a single cent from you guys!" My heart goes stone cold when I listen to everyone else agreeing with Carmen. Over the past seven years, I'm the one paying for everything, be it opening my door in the middle of the night to accept a delivery, babysitting children for others, or making up for the lost packages and the spoiled seafood. Not only do I not earn a single cent, but I've also lost quite a huge amount of money. On top of that, many of my plans get delayed or rescheduled, too. Since Carmen wants to be the good Samaritan this badly, I might as well let her take over all these troublesome and thankless matters from now on.

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

My husband, Richard Hayes, hated special treatment and refused to make exceptions for anyone. So when I begged him to get my seriously ill father in to see a specialist sooner, his face went cold and he flatly refused. "The hospital has rules. Everyone waits their turn. Why should your dad get to cut the line?" He even dismissed the blood my father was coughing up as a flare-up of his chronic bronchitis. He said we were overreacting and wasting the hospital's time and resources. Seven months pregnant, I spent three nights camped out in the hospital waiting room so Richard wouldn't have to bend the rules for us. By the time my father finally received treatment, the delay had already taken its toll. He spent night after night in pain and was left with permanent damage. In the end, it was my father who told me not to blame Richard. Doctors couldn't make exceptions for people, he said. I needed to be more understanding. I believed in his high-minded principles, right up until today, when I left work early to bring him a meal at the hospital. I saw it with my own eyes. My husband was soothing another woman in her hospital bed. His first love, Daisy Lawson, had undergone a simple appendectomy, yet she was staying in the hospital's only VIP suite. Three of the hospital's best private-duty nurses took turns caring for her around the clock. Richard had even pulled strings to get her a hard-to-find painkiller overnight. Daisy whined that the medicine tasted bitter. Richard's face filled with concern. He unwrapped a piece of chocolate and fed it to her. "Daisy, sweetheart, take your medicine. You'll feel better soon. I've rescheduled all my upcoming surgeries so I can stay here with you." The thermos fell from my hand and hit the floor with a crash. Hot soup splashed all over my foot. It hit me all at once. There had never been any ironclad principles. He'd simply saved all his exceptions for someone else.