Henry was a man of high superstition. he believed he should never walk under ladders, spill salt, he didn't' own any mirrors for the fear of breaking them, he never let a black cat cross his path, and he absolutely never opened an umbrella indoors. The weird thing about his habit was that he only followed superstitions that could have brought him bad luck and avoided them like he was avoiding the plague. He never thought to follow habits that could have potentially brought him good luck, like searching for a four leaf clover, or bringing in a rabbit's foot.
Henry was no saint. He worked as a loan manager. He gave out loans to people who he seemed fit of paying it back and on time. He had a nasty reputation of denying loans to the people who needed it the most. He was particularly nasty on a day when it was pouring , when an old little lady who carried around an umbrella with cats all over it, entered his firm.. She asked Henry for a loan, and Henry straight out denied her just from her looks. The old lady responded, "Oh Henry Felix Cato, your last name betrays you. Good judgment is the last thing you have. This loan was to save my life, as I needed it to pay for a lung transplant, but I swear to you, with my last final breath I take, all which you try to avoid will come back to you until you can learn to be fair, and follow your name." With saying that the lady marched towards the doors leading outside, but not before opening her umbrella inside his firm. In that instant a lightning bolt, hit right on her umbrella and she vanished into a pile of ashes, with her umbrella floating outside.
YOU ARE READING
Super Superstition
General FictionThe story of how a man can be cruel, but care so much, how every superstition can be a blessing and a curse, and how one good deed can save a life.
