Agnes

Once upon a time, in the heart of the bustling city, there lived an old lady named Agnes. She resided in a cozy apartment with her two grown children, Henry and Eleanor. Their home was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of urban life, filled with memories and creaky floorboards.

Agnes was no ordinary grandmother. Her silver hair held secrets, and her eyes sparkled with wisdom. She had seen the city transform over the decades, from horse-drawn carriages to electric scooters. But one thing remained constant: crime lurked in the shadows.

Henry, a software engineer, and Eleanor, an artist, shared their mother’s love for the city. They would gather around the worn-out kitchen table, sipping tea, and reminiscing about their late father. Agnes would tell them stories of her youth, when she danced at speakeasies and fought for women’s rights.

However, their peaceful existence shattered one fateful night. A gang of ruthless criminals targeted their building, seeking refuge after a heist gone wrong. They knew Agnes was vulnerable, and they planned to exploit her to cover their tracks.

The criminals watched from the shadows, observing the family’s routines. They saw Agnes watering her plants on the balcony, her gnarled fingers tending to delicate blooms. They noticed Henry’s late-night coding sessions, the glow of his laptop illuminating the room. And Eleanor’s art studio, filled with vibrant canvases and half-finished sculptures, intrigued them.

Agnes sensed danger. She had survived wars, economic crises, and heartbreak, but this threat felt different. She knew her children were at risk. So, she hatched a plan—a plan that would send these criminals straight to hell.

Late one evening, as the gang members loitered near the building’s entrance, Agnes invited them up for tea. They hesitated, surprised by her hospitality. But greed and curiosity got the better of them. They followed her into the dimly lit apartment, unaware of the trap awaiting them.

Agnes served them chamomile tea, her hands trembling slightly. She listened to their stories—their twisted justifications for their crimes. They bragged about stolen jewels, counterfeit money, and lives ruined. Agnes nodded, feigning sympathy.

Then, she revealed her secret. Agnes was a practitioner of ancient arts—the kind whispered about in forgotten libraries. She had studied forbidden texts, learning spells that transcended time and morality. Her eyes glinted as she recited incantations, invoking powers beyond comprehension.

The criminals laughed, mocking her frailty. But Agnes persisted. She wove spells into the fabric of reality, binding their souls to the apartment. The walls trembled, and the air thickened. The criminals gasped, realizing they were trapped—no escape, no redemption.

Agnes stood tall, her voice echoing through the room. “You’ve preyed on the innocent,” she said. “Now face the consequences.”

The apartment transformed. Shadows writhed, revealing grotesque forms—the embodiment of their sins. The gang members screamed, their faces contorting in agony. Flames licked at their feet, and icy winds chilled their bones. Agnes watched, unyielding, as they begged for mercy.

But mercy was not hers to give. She chanted louder, drawing energy from the very walls. The criminals clawed at their skin, their eyes wide with terror. And then, with a final incantation, Agnes banished them.

The ground split open, revealing a fiery abyss. The criminals plummeted, their screams fading into oblivion. The apartment sealed itself, leaving no trace of their existence. Agnes collapsed, drained but victorious.

Henry and Eleanor rushed to her side, bewildered by the spectacle. Agnes smiled weakly. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “old ladies have more fight left in them than anyone imagines.”

From that day on, the apartment remained untouched. Locals whispered about the cursed dwelling, but no one dared enter. Agnes resumed her routine, tending to her plants and sharing stories with her children. And when the wind howled through the city streets, they knew it carried the echoes of justice—the old lady who sent criminals straight to hell.