I trace my fingers over the worn faces of my ancestors, feeling the chill of their persecution seep through time. Outside, rain lashes the window, as if mourning with me for those who were burned and drowned, stoned and hated. The silence is heavy, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder—a grim reminder of the fear that once kept mortals at bay.

I glare at the caricatures, my hands trembling with anger as I recall how we became the nemeses in these tales. Their mockery stings deeper than any pyre, erasing the truth of who we are. The world forgot us, and now, witches are nothing more than cartoon villains—no longer respected, barely feared. "They made us disappear, turned my friends, relatives, compatriots—ME—into jokes. How that image makes me seethe!"

I wear my apron, blending in, my power masked by the mundane. When I tell them I’m a witch, they shrug, as if I’ve said I’m Episcopalian. Some ask if I practice Wicca—Witch-craft light, their mortal attempt at rebellion. "What unabashed, unmitigated, presumptuously outrageous nerve!" I mutter, biting back the urge to unleash a storm right here.

Businesswoman One: Haughty and impatient, she sneers at her sandwich. Businesswoman Two: Equally rude, she smears her lipstick on the napkin and tosses it aside. I grit my teeth, watching their disrespect. As they leave, I whisper a quick incantation—freezing them in their tracks, then with a flick of my wrist, transforming them into howling infants, their expensive suits replaced by diapers and onesies. "A little fear among the populace can be helpful. Keeps those pesky, immature mortals in line."

I stare at the infants, considering whether to raise them or return them to their former selves. Two-hundred and fifty-something is far too old to change diapers, breastfeed, and endure endless crying. "Ohhhhh...these two are giving me a headache already, and I think one of them just peed on my leg," I groan, shaking my head as the reality of my revenge sets in.

I sigh, realizing that at least, in their new form, their obnoxious behavior is acceptable. Perhaps the world will never fear witches again, but for now, I wield my power in small, satisfying ways. No more burning at the stake—just a little lesson for the mortals who dare forget what witches can do. I smile, knowing that even in this modern age, magic still has its place.