Encounter With The Witch

Max Donovan stood in front of the extremely shabby house with a frown on his face, his hands buried in the pockets of his elegant trousers. The scene before him was distasteful and utterly absurd. He couldn't fathom why an elderly woman would refuse five thousand dollars just to hold onto a dwelling like this. A rare act of generosity from him.

The house was barely more than a shack. A slight gust of wind could easily whisk it away.

"Where is the old woman?" He inquired of his long-time personal assistant, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the sight of the filthy shelter and the noxious odor oozing from it.

Ethan swiftly informed him, "She refuses to come out, Sir."

"So what am I supposed to do about that?" he questioned Ethan, "I don't have all freaking day. Drag her old ass out if that is what it takes," he hissed impatiently.

Ethan quickly gathered the hefty bodyguards, and they rushed inside the tattered house filled with peculiar items. Dried skulls of different animals and birds, empty periwinkle shells, red and yellow clothes hanging around and many other oddities adorned the filthy space.

They encircled the stubborn old woman who was cussing and yelling at them. Despite her fierce resistance, they lifted her up like she weighed nothing, and carried her outside to where Max was waiting.

"I was informed that you refuse to vacate this repulsive and tattered shack even after being offered a generous sum of money," Max questioned the woman, eyeing her with disdain. Not only was her house dirty, tattered, and smelly, but she was as well. 

"I am not going to leave my home even if you offer to pay millions of dollars. Keep your dirty money to yourself!" She deadpanned. She freed herself from the tight hold of the bodyguards with a loud huff.

"This property belongs to me and I want to work on it. So you have to leave, we are demolishing this hut whether you like it or not. So you should take the money while I'm still being generous." He tells her sternly.

"I refuse." The old woman rejects the offer, she rests her hands on her skinny hips with a hardened expression on her face. She looked like someone who had not been eating well. Her face lacked color with so many moles. Her teeth were all brown, and her skin was wrinkly and saggy. There was barely any gray hair left on her head. 

She looked frail and fragile. But Max didn't give a damn about her or her health status. All he cared about was her vacating his property. 

The new estate deal he recently secured was poised to catapult him from the ninth spot among the world's wealthiest individuals to the coveted second place. He was determined not to let a stubborn old woman stand in his way. 

"As you wish, old woman," Max said to her, then pulled Ethan close and discreetly instructed him to summon the laborers who were busily preparing the terrain with heavy machinery like bulldozers to swiftly raze the dirty and small house to the ground.

Ethan gave a nod and hastened to make the necessary arrangements. With the laborers just five minutes away, their imminent arrival brought a satisfied grin to Max's face.

"You dare not lay a finger on my abode! It is forbidden!" The old woman's defiant cry only served to elicit a mocking chuckle from him.

"I wonder how you were able to sneak into my estate and build this nonsense of a house. It reeks so much. Do you usually take dumps inside this shack?" Max mockingly asked her. The gentle breeze carried a foul odor towards him, potent enough to induce nausea.

He recoiled, exclaiming, "Where are those bulldozers?!" and swiftly moved away from the house to evade another assault of the stench.

Surveying the structure once more, he observed that it was constructed from termite-ridden timber, shielded by tattered garments that failed to provide adequate cover due to numerous holes in them. The roof was covered with grimy trampoline material, and red and yellow objects hung around haphazardly. Strange written words decorated the exterior, further unsettling him as he gazed upon it.

"This disgusting house must be eradicated from my land, old lady," he declared, reaffirming his prior conclusion.

"If you destroy my home, I shall cast a curse upon you," the elderly woman countered, her countenance mystic as she advanced towards him.

Max erupted into laughter, finding her words amusing.

"And who do you think you are to curse me? You are just an old simpleton, barely able to maintain your balance on your own two feet," he insulted her, distancing himself from her. He couldn't endure her putrid and fetid odor.

It was suffocating.

"You would only find out if you demolish my sanctuary. Those who defied me are no longer breathing, they have vanished into an abyss dominated by the devil. They are being consumed by flames in the pit of hell. And that's where you shall end up if you do this." The old woman's words were accompanied by chilling laughter, but he refused to show any sign of fear. The old woman's ominous warning only fueled his determination.

"You aren't just dirty and deranged, but you are also delusional," Max retorted confidently. He thrived on challenges and was not one to be intimidated.

With his vast wealth as his shield, he was immune to insults and threats. Money was his weapon, and he was about to demonstrate the immense power he wielded over her and countless others.

When he saw the bulldozers coming, a satisfied smile graced his face. 

"And you believe money is everything. You will weep, yet tears will elude you. You will yearn for slumber, yet dread its embrace, for your dreams will be plagued and haunted. Peace will be far from you because the wicked never find solace." The elderly woman chided him with a sardonic flair. A demeanor that did not sit well with him.

'Who did she think she is?' He pondered internally. 

Max instructed his workers to hurry and take down the tattered house. He told them to burn everything to ashes, telling them to pack the ashes because they couldn't have remnants of such dirtiness on his land. 

The workers got to work and with vigor. Each bulldozer's powerful thrust brought down the feeble and worn-down house swiftly and decisively. The hut crumbled under the force, leaving all her possessions exposed. Everything that was hers was bared and obliterated. 

"No!" The old woman screeched as she collided her knees with the earthy ground. Rivulets of tears cascaded down her bony cheeks. 

Max was on the verge of departing the scene, but witnessing the woman's tearful state brought forth such amusement within him. He felt a sense of satisfaction for asserting his dominance. She should have never dared to defy him or pose a threat.

He is the formidable Max Donovan. One of the elite ten wealthiest individuals in the world. He was not to be trifled with, nor should he be opposed, because he always emerged victorious.

He unfailingly prevailed.

"Such a pity. You should have just accepted my money and vacated my land. But look at you, so pathetic. Too much of a smart-mouth even at your age. Looks like you are the one meeting your grave soon." He chuckled.

"You will regret this! " The old woman cried out. "You will regret this." She repeated as she got up and ran to him before any of the men surrounding her could stop her. Reaching him, she grasped him tightly by his right wrist. Then uttered mysterious incantations that left Max bewildered. 

"You will suffer. You will die slowly and plead for death to take you, but it won't take you until it has destroyed everything you own. Everything that you are, Max Donovan. After your earthly destruction, you will then die an agonizing death." The old woman cursed, her irises glowed angrily and bled red as she locked gaze with Max. 

"Get her off me!" Max shouted, but his bodyguards were immobilized, as if under a spell, while he desperately cried out for help. The old woman's sinister cackle filled the air, her decaying teeth on full display as she inched closer to him, emitting a foul odor that enveloped him in a suffocating embrace. Paralyzed by fear, Max found himself unable to escape her menacing presence.

As the bodyguards finally sprang into action, racing towards Max and the old woman, a sudden and inexplicable transformation took place. In a blaze of fiery glory, the old woman erupted into flames before his very eyes, her ashes ascending skyward in a haunting display of otherworldly power. 

The scene left everyone astounded and shocked. They had never witnessed such. It was surreal. Their minds struggled to comprehend the inexplicable phenomenon that had just transpired. It was only when the flames vanished into nothingness did they break free from their trance-like state. 

"What the hell was that?" Max inquired but was abruptly struck by a searing painful sensation encircling his wrist, which the elderly woman had grasped just moments before. 

With a loud wince, he raised his wrist up only to see a crimson, scorching handprint imprinted upon his skin. 

His breath hitched in disbelief.

"What in the world is this?!" He shouted, fear gripped him as he watched the handprint glow brightly, burning him wickedly.

He found himself in a state of frenzy, urging his employees to take action. Anything to quell the blaze, to alleviate the agony, to bring an end to the terror.

Ethan dashed to his vehicle, retrieving a bottle of water and hurriedly returning to douse the searing mark, yet the glow persisted. The torment continued to afflict Max.

A primal cry, raw and unfiltered, escaped his lips, a plea for assistance. His workers encircled him, blowing air onto his wrist in hopes of easing his suffering, but to no avail. The pain was unyielding, the burn unforgiving. Despite their efforts, the excruciating pain remained, causing tears to flow freely from his eyes like a child's unabashed weeping.

As the intensity of the pain became unbearable, Max's vision darkened, and he slipped into unconsciousness. In the fleeting moments before losing consciousness, his mind raced with questions about the significance of the

e crimson burning handprint.

Who was that mysterious old woman?

And what had she done to him?