And that, my friends, is the equivalent of Doom Guy.

Just call in LetMeSoloHer

Oh, I want a whole novel of this. Or at least enough for the narrator to meet his father and whatever woman can stand up to a mother-in-law like Zorah.

topkek, formatting just makes this perfect

Once, when she had a particularly bad hair day, a young woman who passed her in the street couldn't help but giggle at her flyaway locks. She whispered a few words under her breath, and and kept on walking past the tittering girl. The next day, the girl awoke to find her hair -- all of it -- had fallen out.

Yet, when I was small, I was running down the flagstone path through her garden, and I tripped and fell, and skinned my knees. She appeared from thin air, scooped me up in her arms, and whispered soothing words that stopped my bleeding and made my pain vanish.

She's bad-tempered, and petty, and sometimes even cruel. But she can also be warm, and kind, and loving.

She's the dreaded Baba Zorah, Witch of the Southern Plains. But she's also my mother.

Now that I've grown, and she has grown older, I feel that responsibility that all good sons feel, to look after their aging mother. You might think that a powerful witch can care for herself, but a witches magic is a visceral thing, and though it oft grows stronger with age, so too does the toll it takes on the witches stamina. She couldn't hex away an entire determined mob bearing torches and pitchforks before she grew too weary to cast spells, yet she courted the danger of inciting one almost constantly.

Fortunately, I inherited some of her power, and since my father also had magic of some sort -- though she steadfastly refuses to tell me his name, much less what sort of practitioner he was -- my native strength is a match for hers.

I have therefore taken on the role of her adversary, at least in the popular imagination. When the feared Baba Zorah afflicts the people with her curses, they call upon the aid of wise Vedmak Alexei, the White Warlock of the Plains -- never suspecting the latter is the former's son.

What makes it tricky is that, as I mentioned, our magic is closely tied to our bodies. Because of this, the methods one uses to directly break a spell generally cause it to rebound upon the witch that cast it. Naturally, I wouldn't do that -- she's my mom.

So how do I help her victims? Well, there are two basic types: curses of deprivation, and curses of excess.

Take the unfortunate woman who giggled at my mother's hair, for example. Mother's curse deprived her of hair. So, I cursed her to have excessive hair. Now, though she is technically twice-accursed, the young lady is for all intents and purposes normal, because the curses cancel each other out.

Recently, however, Baba Zorah had stepped up her assaults on the villagers. Despite her age, she still gets around quickly in her flying mortar and pestle, such that even the illustrious Vedmak Alexei has trouble keeping up. It was time that I paid her a visit.

As I approached her cottage, she appeared outside it in a puff of smoke.

"Ho! Vedmak!" mother called, glowering down at me from where she floated in her mortar a few feet off the ground. "You approach the home of a Vedma without announcing yourself? Did no one ever teach you manners?"

"I approach the house of my mother, where my welcome may be presumed, I trust." I said, drily.

She made a show of squinting at me. "Oh! It's you, Alexei. I could have sworn it was this arrogant young Vedmak I've heard tell of, who keeps meddling with those I've fairly cursed."

"Fairly?" I scoffed. "Mom, you've abandoned even the pretense of having a reason to curse people! Maid Silva in Nogradan just said 'hello' to you, and you made her nose fall off!"

"The very nose that she turned up at me when she said it! As though your poor mother were a piece of trash!" she retorted, hotly.

"She has an upturned nose! Her whole family does!"

"She had an upturned nose," she said, smugly.

"Has!" I snapped. "I cursed her with an 'extra' nose, this morning."

Mother threw up her hands in consternation. "Where is your respect? Your gratitude? I raised you all by myself, have you forgotten? And even if I were not your mother, this is professional discourtesy, at least! What has gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into me?" I exclaimed. "You were always capricious and liked to cause trouble, but lately it's like you're begging for a mob to burn you at the stake!"

"I'd like to see them try!" she hissed.

"I wouldn't!" I roared, angrily, bringing her up short. "Because if they tried, I'd burn them before they got within a mile of here! I'd hate myself forever, for hurting decent people who were just trying to protect themselves, but I would do it!"

Mother stared at me, her mouth half agape. My words had stunned her, if only for a moment. But she recovered quickly, and smoothed her skirts.

"So, my son. You have developed an affection for the small folk around you, I see." she said, as she regained her usual tone and manner. "If you wish so fervently to spare them from my anger, then let us settle the matter with a bargain."

I frowned suspiciously. Mother herself had taught me how perilous such bargains could be.

"What sort of bargain?"

"I will forswear all cursing, poisoning, and any other harmful magic against the people of these lands." she said.

That wording shocked me. She'd left herself virtually no wiggle room. What could she want bad enough to give up her favorite hobby?

"And in exchange...?" I asked, cautiously.

"Your firstborn child." she said, firmly.

I paled at her words. There were some potent magics that could only be worked with an infant as the focus. All of them were monstrous, and I wouldn't have thought my mother, even at her worst, would be capable of them.

She must have seen my reaction on my face, because she quickly added "No, not for a spell, boy! I will swear to that much."

"Then why would you want my child? Do you honestly want to take care of a newborn, at your age?" I demanded.

"I am not as old as all that! And why I want it is my own concern!" she snapped. Then she looked away, seeming slightly embarrassed. "Anyway, I wasn't thinking I would take care of it all the time."

"What does that mean?" I asked, a raising an eyebrow.

"You know -- sometimes I would visit the child, and sometimes the child would visit me? Like that." Mother explained.

"What are you..." I began, and then my eyes widened, as I finally understood.

"Has this all been because you want a grandchild?" I exclaimed.

"Well, grandchildren, ideally." Mother said. "But I didn't want to rush you."

"Didn't want to rush me?" I cried. "With all the chaos you've been causing, you've kept me too busy for much more than an occasional dalliance, never mind settling down with a wife, and now you want a grandchild?"

"A miscalculation on my part -- I was trying to bring you to the table, so to speak, but by the Divine, these people are so annoying." she said, with a shrug. "Now do you want to bargain, or not?"

I scowled at her for a long moment, but she just looked back impassively, waiting for my reply.

"I get a year and a day to find a bride." I said, finally. "I'm not going to tie myself to the first woman I see just to get a child on her."

Mother scoffed, but waved her hand in assent. "Oh, fine, if you must."

"And," I added, jabbing a finger at her. "You have to tell me who my father is."

It was her turn to scowl. "I'll tell you where he lives, and what he does. Take it or leave it."

"Deal." I said

"So mote it be."

"So mote it be!"

"Your sire lives in the capitol city of Amberholm. He's a court jester." Mother said, as soon as the deal was struck.

I blinked. "A court jester? But you said he had powerful magic! What kind of Vedmak works as a court jester?"

She replied with a wicked grin. "Oh, you want to know more? Well, I will doubtless want more grandbabies. Talk to me after you've delivered on our first agreement, and perhaps we can bargain again."

For anyone who doesn't know Malenia...

Think of a boss fight that could be a punishment in hell by itself.

"We're sorry, all our customer support agents are currently assisting other customers. The current wait time is FORTY. FIVE. MIN-"

Azazel roared and threw the infernal device onto the ground. Fifteen times! That was the fifteenth time he'd been disconnected and forced to wait for another agent! He slammed his cloven foot down with such rage that the phone smashed through the flimsy vinyl flooring and became embedded in the concrete subfloor below, and he stormed off to find his summoner.

"HUMAN. WHAT IS THIS ACCURSED COM-CAST? IS IT ANOTHER HELLISH REALM?"

The human in question was in the middle of a "video game" that quite intrigued Azazel, though he'd never admit it.

"Yo one sec Mr. Zel, I'm fighting Malenia again."

Azazel roared with annoyance and stomped around a bit, but it was mostly for show and his eyes were glued on the screen the whole time. The human (he remembered his name was Tim or Tom or something like that, Timtom?) threw the controller to the ground and grumbled something about "fucking bullshit oh pee waterfowl dance" and finally turned his attention to the demon. "No luck, huh?"

"NO. I DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHY A MORTAL WOULD SELL A SOUL FOR SUCH A SIMPLE TASK, BUT I DO NOW."

"Mannnn I was really hoping you'd figure it out cause we've been without internet for like, three days now?"

"I APOLOGIZE FOR FAILING THIS TASK. I WILL UNFORTUNATELY NOT CONSUME YOUR SOUL. ^ALSOIMAYHAVEBROKENYOURDEVICE."

Timtom cupped a hand around his ear. "Woah, 'scuze me Mr. Zel but did I hear that right? You broke my phone?"

"...YES."

"So you owe me."

"...YES."

"Broooo."

"I APOLOGIZE. I LOST MY TEMPER. I WILL SPEAK TO MY THERAPIST ABOUT THIS INCIDENT."

"Oh good for you man! Glad the devil has mental health resources for y'all. But you still broke my shit." Timtom rose from the couch and stood before Azazel, his hand stretched out. "Let's make a deal." Azazel eyed the hand nervously. His last deal with this human nearly had him in tears, but he still had to perform a task for Timtom before he could retreat to hell (and make an emergency appointment with his therapist).

"TERMS, HUMAN. AND I WILL NOT DEAL WITH THIS COM-CAST AGAIN."

"Oh no, nothing like that bro! I wouldn't do that to anyone, Mr. Zel. Anyway, terms! One: new iPhone since you broke my old one. And make it an iPhone 14 Pro Max."

"AGREEABLE."

"Two: you'll beat Malenia for me." Timtom pointed a thumb back at the TV. "None of the other guys in the house have beaten her yet and I wanna be the first. And in exchange," Timtom leaned closer. Azazel leaned away. "I'll tell you how Comcast works. And you can set up a new torture chamber in hell. I hear your annual performance review is coming soon."

Azazel perked up. Devilish secrets like Com-cast didn't come cheap or easy, and all Timtom was asking him to do was beat something in his video game? His clawed hand met Timtom's. Demonic magic swirled from below and settled into their clasped hands, illuminating them both with a hellish glow. And Azazel saw, in that moment, the flames of hell in his eyes, Timtom looked more like a devil than Lucifer himself. But the moment passed, the magic settled, and both their hands fell to their sides.

Timtom flopped back on the couch and held a controller out to the demon. The grin he gave Azazel had him wanting to flee in terror. "C'mon Mr. Zel! I promise it won't be as bad as Comcast." Azazel glanced at the controller, at Tom, and at the screen depicting a character standing by a serene fire of some sort. Swallowing the feeling that he'd made another contract not at all in his favor, he reached out and took the controller into his hands.

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Mother threw a fit when we took away her cauldron and animal bits from her apothecary. She had blood oozing out of my ears, which I let drip into the cauldron. She swore about all the things she'd do to someone who crossed a witch, and the ways she'd find new rats and bats, and ewe guts. If Puddles wasn't her familiar, I'm sure she'd have cannibalized her for ingredients too. But the nurse , Angela, who keeps calling me a good boy instead of Marko, comes by once a week to reapply the bandages to mother's legs, and my mother still manages to keep some curses in store. It's odd. She can't read a clock anymore, but she still can utter, word-perfect, a flesh-eating curse faster than most people these days can... well, read a clock.

Angela is the only nurse who's stayed. She drops by my office to be uncursed, on the days where I'm too busy to supervise mother. Sometimes when Angela shows up to the house, just as tough, cheery, and uncursed as the last time she came to help my mother, my mother will remember. From a note, perhaps that she scrawled somewhere in her calendar. I've found these kinds of notes. She'll read it and astral project till she finds me and put a minor curse on me, for uncursing Angela. Those are good days, when she's mostly clear, and getting up to mischief. But she's gotten lost in the astral plain before, and it is not easy to track someone down there.

I do it, because I moved in with her and she's my mother, but it was no simple task. Angela had called, panicked for the first time. She's familiar with witches, coming from the old country and all, but usually mother gets back from astral projection fairly quickly. We got her back, but that day hurt. It was a nice, good day, the next time I felt her reach from the astral realm, and dump cold water over my astral head. My own patient was shocked by the way I froze up suddenly. I excused myself, hoping I wouldn't have to hunt her down again and saw her astral form gleefully swooping away, following a trail of cut hair she had left for herself, just in case.

A few months later Angela called again. Concerned in that stern, inconvenienced manner of hers.

"Two weeks now, in a row, no curses. Docile like sheep."

"Thanks, Angela, I'll look into it."

"Witches, they don't like this. It's not good for her. She will do something herself."

"Thanks, Angela."

"Okay, I know you are good boy, you will do something."

"Take care of yourself, Angela."

There was nothing I could do. The corridors of her mind were falling apart, and she was doing her best to leap between them, but the moments of lucidity were coming less and less frequently. She was upset a lot of the time, not angry or mischevious but lost. Like a child, in a way. I never thought I'd miss the curses, the frustration of having to undo another one, untangle the web of them before. But I did. Because they were a part of her.

"Marko," she said, on one of her lucid days.

"Yes, mama?"

"Don't make me do it myself. I'll curse you worse than anything I've done if you do."

"Are you ready?"

"No," she said. "But I never will be. Make it peaceful. When I lose myself in there again, I don't want to wake up."

"I love you, mama," I said.

"Mmmm." she said. "A witch's love never dies."

She opened her arms to me.

When I nodded off watching her favourite TV show, puddles on my lap, she made hair grow out of every part of my body until I looked like a Sasquatch. And for my part, when I woke before her, I soothed every ache in her body, felt her breathing easy, and invited her soul to move on. She did feel ready to go. I think it was a relief for both of us.

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This is a really interesting take on the prompt, well done! I want more!

Was going to point that. Especially annoying as a Frenchman. This is "rouge", and this is a "rogue".

can guns and bullets be enchanted? actually forget even using gun powder, use explosive magic powder

magic guns

That’s an interesting username Op… what would your power be?

I love this response! Great setup and payoff. Nice creepy vibes at the end, and I like the consistency. For a brand new writer, you're definitely on the right track. Only critique I can make right off the bat is grammar nazi stuff, like commas and run-on sentences and the like. Well done! Keep it up!

well i wrote one for my own prompt: here it is

> can squirt ink from his abdomen

finally found a writer with the same murky sense of humor

echoing the other commenter and also, I like your style. (Not surprisingly, it does remind me of mine. Ehem, I 'll se myself out.)

Book one: its okay for an isakai, and more realistic and fraught than most of them. I put it down twice and only went back to it because i heard it gets better and i had nothing else to do.

Book two: it gets better. Life gets better for the main characters. Interesting things happen.

Book three: book two, but better. This one might have the long interlude about the two Horns of Hammerhead University life. I skipped that. It's very skippable.

Book n..n(last)-2: really very good.

Book n(last)-1, n(last): This is the best thing I have ever read. Every chapter is a heartpounder, with unexpected twists and insights that leave me wanting more while still being a pretty self contained short story of their own. The scope of the story has slowly grown to incorporate the whole world, politics and significant events abound.

Ive never seen such a significant increase in story telling ability in an author.

Are all Legendary Hero Prophecies always so........ true? Couldn't some of them be broken? Couldn't a hero lose the quest, or maybe just decide not to finish?

If I knew, I would have stopped my quest a long time ago. As soon as I met Ruby, I would have refused to continue talking to her. Refused to let her travel with me - you see, she was going in the same direction. Refused to continue my quest entirely!

But alas. I did not know, and I did travel with Ruby, and we became close, and... Ok. I'm not going to give away all of the details. I'm not one to kiss and tell!

Anyway. She gave me the good news about half way through our journey, but simply refused to allow us to stop until she had delivered and recovered. She insisted that my quest was the most important thing to the world, and that she wanted to be there to celebrate with me. I suppose only someone wrapped in a spell would happily accompany a pregnant woman as she presses on in all sorts of dangerous conditions.

Every step closer to the realm of The Demon Queen, it seemed as if Ruby became more beautiful, perhaps her pregnancy glow was just getting brighter as she progressed. And once we entered within the realm, told me that we needed to hurry, because she was sure the baby was coming soon! Yet she still wanted to follow me all the way to the end of my journey.

I made it to the Demon Queen's Palace, and asked Ruby to wait outside while I fight. She finally obliged to my request to keep her out of this danger.

It was so much easier then I thought it would have been to fight my way in. I was expecting an army, a huge show of might that I needed to push past before even seeing the true beast, The Demon Queen Griselda. But what I found were a few guards who just allowed me in, and a butler who showed me to a chamber.

There, I found Ruby. Well. Griselda, I suppose, in labor.

Shocked, confused, so many emotions. But before I had a chance to feel any of them, I needed to be with Ruby. I rushed over and held her hand.

There were midwifes running around, and some looked worried. I was asked to wait outside. I could have fought to stay, but I did what I was asked. I wish I would have stayed, because that was the last I saw her alive.

I suppose the prophecy was true after all. I slayed the Demon Queen.

As for the baby? Our baby? I don't know. No one will tell me. Will he be a Demon King somewhere that a new hero will be prophesied to kill? That is a much better story than the others that creep in my head at night.

How many other Heroes from the Legendary Prophecies end their stories so unhappily as me?

I recognize the soul that waits before me. Their last life was peaceful and pleasant, and they’ve still returned for re-placement. Most others have completed all their lessons and moved on to their permanent afterlife by now… But not this one. They’ve barely completed a fraction of what is expected of them. It’s time for me to investigate. I reach into the soul’s memories, reliving their previous death and rebirth for any evidence of their reasoning for needing so many return trips…

The chaotic screech of tires and frantic car horns barely registered as I felt my form make contact with the highway. Almost immediately, I felt myself become weightless. I looked down at my own body, broken and mangled — aptly so, a perfect mirror of my mind — and then up at the scene on the overpass I’d just been thrown off of. The broken concrete barrier remained crumbled, large chunks fallen into the center lane around what used to be my motorcycle, and the front end of the offending truck dangled precariously from the open edge.

Had I lungs to sigh, I surely would. This was neither the first nor the last time I could recall meeting such a grisly end. I felt oddly at peace this time, however: once my past memories had begun to leak back into my mind, I had forsaken the pursuit of love and friendship. After all, it would inevitably end in their grief and misery far too soon, and I always leave with a profound sense of guilt for it. This is my thirteenth death, and I still don’t know how old age feels. I imagine it must feel a lot like this tired weariness.

Suddenly I feel a strong pull, and I am yanked roughly out of this plane of existence. I am surrounded by darkness, and an old familiar voice causes my attention to turn in his direction.

“You again? You still have much to learn; you have no place in the afterlife yet. You will only keep returning to me and being reborn, until you complete your lessons.”

I can feel a smile forming at my core. I move in closer to the figure of Death as the formless orb of my existence takes on a more humanoid shape. I reach up toward his face, enchanted — for the personification of death itself, I have always found his appearance hauntingly beautiful. I cannot bring myself to hold back any longer — this is our auspicious thirteenth meeting, after all.

“I know,” I respond softly. “That is why I keep returning. I don’t care about lessons, or Heaven and Hell, or any of the afterlives I might have chosen from at the end of all this.”

He looks at me strangely, then with a trace of surprise as he reads between the lines of what I’ve just said. His brow furrows in confusion.

“…why? What is it you are after, then?”

I reach up to run my fingers through the lengths of his hair. So beautiful… quiet, soothing, reliable soul that he is…

“Every life I have lived has been one of abuse, hardship, and loneliness. From cat and dog, to caged bird, to human. And in all of these, you are always the one I can count on to never be cruel to me, to never deprive me of anything, and never to abandon me when I need you. In the between times, we’ve had some wonderful conversations — about everything from the cosmos to human philosophy, science to spirituality, and where they meet. I have grown quite fond of these between-times.”

He stands there a moment, silent. I cannot read his expression — he could be repulsed, or moved that someone does not fear him for once, or numb to the entire notion. So, I continue.

“I know I must go through these lessons regardless — so I will continue completing one for each iteration of my life. But only one — as before I am forced to choose my final destination, I want to spend as much time as possible with the one I have come to love so dearly.”

There is a still silence between us for several moments before he pulls me in to embrace me. I hold fast to him, and I can feel the flickering gray of my heart begin to shine golden. Is this… peace?

The golden light at my core grows, until it blinds me entirely. Then, my vision fades. The blackness of my vision begins to break open in a great “x”, and soon the warmth of the sun is seeping into the darkness. I feel…radiant, and joyful. I could sing! I reach for the jubilant warmth of the sun as my swirling petals begin to unfold.

I know I have such a long way to go… but here, surrounded by my brothers and sisters and loved by the bees and the birds, and the human gaze, I am no longer alone, no longer deprived, no longer tormented. I still eagerly await my next between-time with my beloved — but I feel like now I can finally face my lessons with courage, even if I’m in no hurry to do so just yet.

I believe I have seen enough. I open my eyes and look up at the soul in question, brow raised. I take a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of my nose. They don’t exactly train you on what to do in cases like this. Who the hell falls in love with —

“Death! I need to see you, immediately.” I call out. He appears in short order, looking at the soul in clear surprise.

“I imagine you know why you’re both in front of me right now…” I sigh impatiently, tapping against the table in front of me. He nods nervously, and the soul remains cautiously quiet. I can read in the countenance of Death his attitude toward the soul before us who he’s grown so familiar with.

“If I allow you the option of remaining with Death upon graduation, will you stop dawdling and take your assignments seriously from now on? If you haven’t shown significant progress in your next three vessels, you will forfeit that opportunity and be settled apart permanently in the place of my choosing, and it will be most unpleasant. Do you both agree?”

They both perk up and nod in agreement, and I shoo them out without another word. They leave hurriedly, hand-in-hand, and I can’t help but smile to myself. I have a feeling I won’t see them again for a while.

[removed]

I see the villain doing villain things. I shout "khalas" (in Arabic it basically means "stop it"). The end. Best username superpower ever.

[removed]

Thanks, I liked the prompt. Simple and deep. It was begging for something otherworldly.