The Angel in the Form of an Old Woman Sent to Save Me from Marrying a Witch
Episode 1
Written By Jerry Smith.
My name is Timothy, and I've been dating a girl named Prisca for about three years now. We met at church, and from the very start, there was something captivating about her.
There was a quiet strength to her, an air of independence that drew me in. She told me she had no family or relatives, that she had been surviving on her own in the city for years. At first, I was curious, but over time, I admired her for her resilience and determination.
Our relationship blossomed quickly. We were inseparable, spending hours talking, laughing, and dreaming about the future. Eventually, I proposed to her, and she said yes. Our wedding was only a month away. I could barely contain my excitement; I was ready to start this new chapter of my life with the woman I loved.
One Saturday afternoon, we decided to go shopping together to pick up a few things for the house. As we wandered through the store, selecting everything from plates to curtains, I couldn't help but smile at how effortlessly we worked together. Everything felt so perfect. She was everything I had ever wanted in a partner: beautiful, strong, and kind-hearted.
We were nearly finished when we made our way back to the car, our hands full of shopping bags. The sun was getting hotter, and I could feel the warmth of the moment. But as we got closer to our car, something caught my eye—a figure standing next to it.
An old woman.
She looked frail and worn out, her clothes tattered as if she had been standing there for a long time. Her face was wrinkled, with deep lines carved into her skin, and her eyes were tired but filled with something I couldn't quite place.
Prisca’s face expression changed instantly. She stopped in her tracks, her body stiffening. Her expression hardened, and her eyes narrowed in a way I had never seen before.
“What do you want?!” she screamed, her voice sharp and full of anger.
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in her mood. I looked at the old woman, who didn’t seem to be bothered by the outburst. Instead, she calmly turned towards me.
“Please, young man, may I have a bottle of water?” the woman asked softly, her voice raspy yet gentle.
I hesitated, glancing at Prisca. Her face was twisted with disgust, her lips curled into a sneer.
“Don’t trust her, Timothy,” she said, her voice low but firm. “She’s trouble.”
I looked back at the woman, who seemed harmless enough. Something in her eyes made me pause, and without thinking too much, I reached into the car and grabbed a bottle of water from the backseat.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her. “It’s just water.”
The old woman took the bottle gently, her hands shaking slightly as she held it. She didn’t immediately drink it, instead, she placed her hand on the bottle, closing her eyes as if deep in thought. A moment passed before she slowly handed it back to me.
“Use it to wash your face,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.
I froze, looking at the water in my hand.
Prisca stepped forward, her voice now sharp and commanding with a little touch of fear. “No! Don’t listen to her, Timothy. She’s a con artist, I know it!”
But the old woman’s gaze was intense, almost pleading. “Please, just wash your face. Trust me,” she insisted...
I was still looking looking at the old woman confused when I glanced at prisca and noti...
To Be Continue...
The Angel in the Form of an Old Woman Sent to Save Me from Marrying a Witch
Episode 1
Written By Jerry Smith.
My name is Timothy, and I've been dating a girl named Prisca for about three years now. We met at church, and from the very start, there was something captivating about her.
There was a quiet strength to her, an air of independence that drew me in. She told me she had no family or relatives, that she had been surviving on her own in the city for years. At first, I was curious, but over time, I admired her for her resilience and determination.
Our relationship blossomed quickly. We were inseparable, spending hours talking, laughing, and dreaming about the future. Eventually, I proposed to her, and she said yes. Our wedding was only a month away. I could barely contain my excitement; I was ready to start this new chapter of my life with the woman I loved.
One Saturday afternoon, we decided to go shopping together to pick up a few things for the house. As we wandered through the store, selecting everything from plates to curtains, I couldn't help but smile at how effortlessly we worked together. Everything felt so perfect. She was everything I had ever wanted in a partner: beautiful, strong, and kind-hearted.
We were nearly finished when we made our way back to the car, our hands full of shopping bags. The sun was getting hotter, and I could feel the warmth of the moment. But as we got closer to our car, something caught my eye—a figure standing next to it.
An old woman.
She looked frail and worn out, her clothes tattered as if she had been standing there for a long time. Her face was wrinkled, with deep lines carved into her skin, and her eyes were tired but filled with something I couldn't quite place.
Prisca’s face expression changed instantly. She stopped in her tracks, her body stiffening. Her expression hardened, and her eyes narrowed in a way I had never seen before.
“What do you want?!” she screamed, her voice sharp and full of anger.
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in her mood. I looked at the old woman, who didn’t seem to be bothered by the outburst. Instead, she calmly turned towards me.
“Please, young man, may I have a bottle of water?” the woman asked softly, her voice raspy yet gentle.
I hesitated, glancing at Prisca. Her face was twisted with disgust, her lips curled into a sneer.
“Don’t trust her, Timothy,” she said, her voice low but firm. “She’s trouble.”
I looked back at the woman, who seemed harmless enough. Something in her eyes made me pause, and without thinking too much, I reached into the car and grabbed a bottle of water from the backseat.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her. “It’s just water.”
The old woman took the bottle gently, her hands shaking slightly as she held it. She didn’t immediately drink it, instead, she placed her hand on the bottle, closing her eyes as if deep in thought. A moment passed before she slowly handed it back to me.
“Use it to wash your face,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.
I froze, looking at the water in my hand.
Prisca stepped forward, her voice now sharp and commanding with a little touch of fear. “No! Don’t listen to her, Timothy. She’s a con artist, I know it!”
But the old woman’s gaze was intense, almost pleading. “Please, just wash your face. Trust me,” she insisted...
I was still looking looking at the old woman confused when I glanced at prisca and noti...
To Be Continue...
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Greek