The warm summer rain pelted the grounds at the royal palace of Sultan Bruhier of Siberia. This rain rarely came, it usually meant something bad was about to happen. The Sultan’s blood stained rug was all that could be seen, from the small carvings in the closet doors.

From within a young girl could see a tall skinny man in black robes walk past after kneeling down to his kill. She knew he took something. She knew her father was dead.

After he was gone, she slowly opened the door. She saw her father on the ground doused in blood. A bloody dagger lay on the rug. As she knelt to her father, she saw that his lucky ring was missing.
She cried. She felt empty; she was nothing without her father. She was missing his spirit, he made her laugh he was the one who told stories of his ring bringing him luck.

He told her the ring had been in her family for generations, the luck split between the sexes. The men of the family got lucky with business and money, while the women got lucky with life. The luck would only go to the family member who wares it. When it was lost it would always find its way back to them. She knew she would see it again.

Outside in the stables the Sultan’s slayer lay dead. He was on the ground among several spears, one of which went through his stomach. There was a large patch of blood stained straw next to him.
He was trying to get away on one of the horses. He opened the stall gate; the large horse moved fast pushing the gate into him. The gate suddenly forced him into a spear, which was one of several behind the gate. The ring slipped from his finger and rolled away.

Within the next day, the ring found its way back to the girl. The rain guided it back to her. From then on, she kept it safe by not telling anyone of its good fortune.

* * *

“And now, the fortunate ring still remains in my family,” said the storyteller finishing the story to all of those who listened. She was old but was still able to turn some heads even with her face covered, forbidden to show anyone but her family. It was always her bright gray eyes, which attracted people. Then her stories that kept them from their everyday duties.

Her name was Malika. She was married to a harsh shop owner, who only wanted a son, to take over his role. She got pregnant. When it was her time, he was waiting outside the room for a son. She bore twins, the first child was a healthy boy, but the second was a beautiful girl.

Malika told a nurse to take the baby girl to raise it in America. She wanted the best for the child, even if it meant parting with it. She knew if the child stayed in Pakistan, she could not show her beautiful face. The nurse took the infant to America and called it her own.

Ali was so happy to have a son, that he let his wife tell stories in the marketplace. He named his son Salim, after his grandfather. Malika kept the secret for eighteen years, while Ali raised Salim to take his place as the owner of the shop.


This time the listeners included a tourist among other common cloaked woman with their concealed faces. This tourist was a rich man over fifty with a beard. His name was Nickolas. He went to her asking more about the ring. He only listened to half of the story.

The ring only brings good luck to only one bloodline, the ring leads all others who wear it to death, then it finds its way to the right finger.

“Can I see it?” he asked, “but, it was just a story,” Malika replied.

“Then if that is so, I will tell all of your listeners that it is false,” said Nick.

“No, no the story is real, my mother gave the ring to me,” she said, he thought the story was not true.

“I need proof to believe it, show it to me,” he said.

“Its right here, I keep it safe,” she pulled out the long silver chain around her neck; she was forbidden to wear jewelry, to revile the ring. Hoping he would go away.

Instead, he pulled out a revolver, prepared to take the ring. There it was… the beautiful silver ring, and his chance to take it.

“So shoot me, I have nothing left to lose,” Malika said.

“Why do you say that?” asked Nick nervously.

“I live in misery, and I bare a secret that I will carry to my death,” she said.
He shot her, “Then I shall end you misery,” he said taking the ring. She smiled before she died; she knew the ring would kill him and find its way back to the right finger. She knew the ring always favored the woman of the family, it would find its way to her daughter.

He thought the story of the ring was only happen in Pakistan. He did not put the ring on his finger until he thought he was safe in a cab in New York City. He was on his way to his brother’s house in Brooklyn, to tell of his adventures around the world.

His younger brother was married to a Pakistani nurse, who had a daughter. They have been married for eighteen years.

He grabbed his bag and got out of the cab. He started to walk across the street to his brother’s house. Then suddenly he got hit by a cop car. The cop was reporting to a robbery and did not see him. He died on the street from the internal injuries.

The ring went to his brother. His brother never put it on; instead, he gave it to his daughter, Michelle. She loved the ring, and instantly put it on. It gave her good luck.

Michelle worked for the New York Times; her boss did not like her. After she put the ring on her boss gave her a promotion and upgraded her status to editor.

That same night her boyfriend, Alex took her to a fancy restaurant and proposed. The next day they went house hunting. They found a midsized two floor house a bought it thirty present off.


Over the next few days, Michelle discovered that the ring brought her good luck. She told Alex. At first, he did not believe her, and then she took him to a poker game, she won the ten-thousand-dolor pot. After the poker game, Alex believed her.

Alex recalled his life being nothing but wrong turns. He wanted the ring. He waited until she was asleep on the couch. The room was dark, but slightly lighted by the TV, on low volume a few feet away. He slowly took it off her finger. She woke up.

“What are you doing?” she asked sitting up, “I…,” he could not say, the ring was in his hands. She looked to see the ring was missing. “You took it!” she screamed.

Alex was speechless, she was right. She got up from the couch and socked him in the mouth. “Give it back!” she said, he could not lie to her, but he did not want to give it up. “No!” he shouted, “Why?” she asked. He did not want to hit her, but he would have done anything except tell her why, he was jealous.

He tried to hit her but she was fast, he missed and hit a wall. She was about to hit him again moved tying to run, she followed. They were now in the upstairs hallway.
She sprang at him trying to get the ring knocking him to the ground. He used his feet to get her off him. She hit her head on the floor and fell down the stairs. She died of a broken neck.

Alex panicked; he put the ring in his pocket and got a garbage bag. He nervously put her body in the bag. He dragged her body out to the garage and stuffed it into the trunk of the maroon Cadillac, next to the spare tire.
He parked the car at an abandon lot next to the Hudson. He got out and walked to the edge, he looked down trying to act calm. The drenching rain rippled the shimmering water.

Alex walked back to the car, opened the trunk, lifted the long black garbage bag and pulled it out. Alex let it hit the ground with a thunk, and then continued to drag it to the edge where he pushed it into the river.

He watched it splash. Just as it sank, a lifeless arm found its way through the opening of the bag. He felt as if she were reaching out to him. He knew it would haunt him until his death.

Alex put the ring on his finger and turned to the car. Just as he closed the trunk, the ground sank beneath him. An old abandon subway tunnel collapsed from too much rain gathering in potholes. The car was now on a slope. The car rolled back fast from gravity and slippery rain. The car pushed him into the hole.

A bar went through his back. The bloody two-inch pole stuck several feet out of his stomach. He began choking on his blood. He twitched and then died.

The ring slipped off his finger into the filling puddles below. It landed on the tack, which overlapped itself in some parts while some of it was zigzagged in the tunnel.

It was back in the eighties, when they were putting in the new track, there was a major accident, which enabled work for almost a year. Soon, it was forgotten, buried deep in the history books of time.

The ring started to decline down the track and soon it picked up speed. At the end of the track, there was a gap, another section of the track to follow. The ring slid down, flipped and rolled down the other part of the track. The track was endless, it led the ring until it was at it end.

When the track was about to end, the ring pick up so much speed that it hit the last corner to fast and launched the ring up into the murky water. It was now very close to the river.

The ring landed in an old water pipe that led the the Hudson. A strong current went by, and carried the ring into the river. The ring fell deeper and deeper into the dark water. There was a barracuda scavenging for food, it saw the ring shimmering in the water. The barracuda swallowed the ring and continued searching for food.

The long fish carried the ring back to the Indian Ocean. In the Indian Ocean there were several fishing trolleys fishing for mainly tuna, swordfish, and every once and a while a barracuda.


The barracuda was brought aboard the fishing boat. It put up good fight until its head was chopped off and it was stuffed into a large freezer. By early of the next morning the ship found its way to EL Tour, a fishing port in Egypt.

The fish was brought into market, and then it was sold to the highest bitter. Salim was there buying fish for his supper. A large barracuda was just put on the stack with several more.

He was not having the best time over, his shop was more like he was a last resort for his customers, and he wished he had something better to look forward to.

Suddenly Salim saw something shiny slip out of the fish’s mouth. He picked it up, it was a silver ring. He put it on, it fit perfectly. It brought him luck with his father’s business.