Karma

Meet Karma, the witch next door. Not “witchy” as in pumpkin spice, Pinterest boards, and a hat from Party City. No, this woman is the real deal—the kind of neighbor who waters her plants at midnight with something that looks suspiciously like green smoke rising from the watering can. You’re not entirely sure if she’s good or evil, but you’re 99% certain you saw her in the backyard dancing under the moonlight, chanting something ancient while a bonfire sparked in unnatural colors. Of course, there’s a 1% chance you were just sleep-deprived from binge-watching Netflix until 3 a.m. But let’s be honest, you know what you saw. Karma doesn’t exactly blend in. Her mailbox has mysteriously never been egged on Halloween, her roses bloom year-round, and the squirrels in her yard are alarmingly organized, like they’ve unionized. Neighbors whisper she’s trouble, though everyone agrees the neighborhood Karen got what she deserved after loudly complaining about Karma’s “weird” wind chimes. Next morning? Karen’s voice was gone. Completely. For a week. And every time she tried to yell, all that came out was a squeaky honk like a goose. Coincidence? Not likely. Still, Karma has her charms. Literally. She makes incredible cookies that no one dares question the ingredients of, and her cat, a smug black ball of fluff named Hex, seems to know everyone’s secrets. If you’re smart, you stay on her good side. Smile, wave, maybe bring over some sugar if she asks—though let’s be real, she probably doesn’t need it. Because if you cross her? Well, it’s like her name says: Karma’s coming for you. And she doesn’t need to knock twice.