Bad Luck Absol

Absol always had a reputation. In the small town of Willow Creek, his name was whispered in hushed tones, like a curse. People said he brought bad luck, that wherever he went, misfortune followed. He didn’t believe in such superstitions—at least, not at first.

It started with small things. A job interview that should have gone perfectly ended abruptly when the employer's chair broke, sending him crashing to the floor. A routine walk in the park turned into chaos when a sudden storm swept in, tearing branches from trees and causing everyone to flee for cover. Each time, Absol was there, the common thread in every disaster.

People began to avoid him. Neighbors crossed the street when they saw him coming, and even the local store owners would close early if they saw him approach. He couldn't escape the feeling that something was terribly wrong, but the more he tried to shake the thought, the more it clung to him, like a shadow he couldn’t outrun.

One evening, after a particularly long and lonely day, Absol decided to take a walk through the forest on the outskirts of town. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the trees in a deep, unsettling gloom. The path he walked was familiar, one he had taken many times before, but tonight, it felt different. The air was thick with tension, and the usual sounds of the forest—rustling leaves, chirping crickets—were absent, replaced by an eerie silence.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The path seemed to stretch on endlessly, twisting and turning in ways that didn’t make sense. He should have reached the clearing by now, but instead, he felt as though he was being led in circles, as if the forest itself were conspiring against him.

And then, he saw it.

A figure, tall and gaunt, stood in the middle of the path, partially obscured by the shadows. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent light, reflecting the small sliver of moon that had managed to pierce through the thick canopy. Absol’s heart raced as he stopped in his tracks, every instinct telling him to turn back, to run. But something in those glowing eyes held him in place, rooted to the spot.

The figure stepped forward, revealing more of its form. It was humanoid, but twisted, with limbs that seemed too long, and skin that looked as though it had never seen the light of day. Its mouth twisted into a grin that sent chills down Absol’s spine, and when it spoke, its voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“You’re the one they talk about, aren’t you? The one who brings misfortune.”

Absol’s throat was dry, and he struggled to find his voice. “I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The figure laughed, a sound that echoed through the trees, making the hairs on the back of Absol’s neck stand on end. “Oh, but you do. You’ve always known, haven’t you? The things that happen around you, the accidents, the disasters—they’re not coincidences.”

A cold sweat broke out on Absol’s forehead. “What are you?”

The figure’s grin widened. “I’m what you’ve been running from. I’m the curse that’s been following you, the reason for all your bad luck. But I don’t just bring misfortune. I feed on it.”

Absol took a step back, but the figure mirrored his movement, closing the distance between them with unnatural speed. “You see, every time something goes wrong, every time you cause pain or suffering, I grow stronger. And now, it’s time for you to fulfill your purpose.”

Before Absol could react, the figure lunged, its elongated fingers wrapping around his throat. He struggled, clawing at the icy hands that gripped him, but it was no use. The figure was impossibly strong, its grip tightening with every passing second.

“Your life has been leading to this moment,” it hissed, its face inches from Absol’s. “You are the harbinger of doom, the one who brings the end.”

As the darkness closed in around him, Absol realized with a sinking dread that the figure was right. All his life, he had been the catalyst for disaster, the bringer of bad luck. And now, as the figure’s grip tightened and the world faded to black, he understood that there was no escaping his fate.

He was, and always had been, doomed.