Hunched back. Check. Crooked warty nose. Check. Oversized black hat with matching cloak. Also, check.

Who would argue that these features weren’t defining of a witch?

Apparently a vast number of my customers. Apparently being a man doesn’t suit a witch. No matter how much I tuck.

I even brought a cat would you believe it! All black, leaving trails of hair in all my food and clothes. Little Silica I called her.

Day in and out I spend my time stirring a large cauldron of bubbling broths and alchemical potions. Only today was slightly different.

One of my customers from last week got a little annoyed upon finding out my gender. I didn’t think much of it. Just because I'm a man, doesn’t mean I can’t do the job of a witch. However. In the eyes of a grieving widow, who spent an hour of my day moaning about how hard her life had gotten. I had committed a terrible act of fraud. As such I find myself shackled to a wall, deep within a cavern down the road from my shop that no doubt was being ransacked.

Such a shame. I had always dreamt of being a witch too. Nanny Bubblespot had always said I was very ‘witchy’. Though that might have just been witch speak for ‘you have a rather crooked nose’.

Suppose I'll have to quit now. Hang up my cloak. Begin partaking in morning yoga to straighten my back. Then again. Perhaps I simply wasn’t witchy enough for this town of dullards. When these despicable sorts set me free I shall procure a taller hat, a darker cloak and tuck myself a little further back. Perhaps at the cost of some functionality.

I shall rebrand. Reimage. And for a lack of better words, ram my alembic down this town's throat.

This town will sing the name of me. Witch Trunkpop!.

Thank you, enjoyed writing this piece a lot

"Stop!!" Thor thunders, raising his palm to his enemy of the past hundred centuries.

Thunder roared from above. Not the kind brought on by a mixture of hot and cool air, but a deep crimson lightning, forced to break the clouds by Thor's impatience. The bolt shatters through the countless drops of rain before striking the ground before Thor, sending his enemy tumbling backwards.

His enemy, Anubis, The god of death; Bringer of the end; Baker of delectable cakes. Whatever his name was, he was for now at least, Thor's enemy.

“OW!! That hurt, you buffoon of Asgard!” he shouts, tending to his wounded tuckus.

“I did not stop for banter, tall dog” Thor roars, his voice mimicked by the striking bolts of crimson around them.

“I’m not a dog. I’m a GOD!. Got that!? G.O.D.” The baker of sweet treats replies. “Odin's beard, who taught you to spell?”.

A bolt strikes behind Thor. His silhouette looming over Anubis. “Bite your tongue mongrel! I’ll not have you bismerch my mother!”.

Moments of silence. Nothing but the patter of rain hitting the ground around them. Windows, Cars and blocks of stone that once belonged to quite a nice bakery litter the ground around them. For the first time in a hundred centuries, the pair's heated battle had simmered. Each taking their time to notice their surroundings for the first time their eyes split apart.

Their battle started on the desert of mars. A barren and rather wasteful portion of the solar system, the pair thought it would be a good place to host their battle. It would appear that, while spinning Anubis around, Thor had launched him towards earth. He had meant to throw him to the moon, but it was a little late to apologise to the scattered bones that now occupied the city.

“I thought we were on that despicable bitches planet. Why are we here?” Anubis questioned, picking up the tattered remains of a children's bear. The haunted memories of it’s previous owner etch themselves into Anubis’ mind. A lesser known ability or more accurately curse bestowed to the god of death. Possessions owned by the dead would play their most tortured memories to the god of death. His mind would warp to match the owners, inflicting the same traumatic experience exactly as it would have been felt.

The memory brought forth by this bear was that of the girl playing quietly within her home. Her parents were smiling gleefully at her, trying to get the next photo for their album. Suddenly. Lighting strikes their building. Lights flicker. Bickering of hosts within the TV turns to static before bursting shards of glass into the room. Her father is hit first. A large shard flew through the air with the determination of an eagle. Hitting its intended target quickly and concisely. Blood spewed from her fathers neck, covering her mothers face as she laments in horror trying to stop the wound.

This moment's grief shocked her to her core. She trembled, holding her teddy close for comfort. Her mother, tossing the cold remains of her father aside, leaps from the sofa. Before her outstretched hand could reach her daughter she is sucked into a vacuum. The force of Anubis throwing Thor into the building had scraped away the wall to the flat, sucking in the limp bodies of humans and scattered possessions. Quickly, her mothers hand was sucked away. Tumbling along the gust of air her mothers head shattered on some blocks of stone, covering the daughter's face and teddy.

Anubis drops the teddy in shock. His mind reforms back to that of an infinitely old god. “Dear Osiris… What have we done” he trembles, falling to his knees.

Noticing his enemy's shock, Thor approaches. Raising a hand he places it on the god’s shoulder. “What we have done is unforgivable… I’m sorry… I should have shared your cake instead of being a selfish asgardian. My mother will be most displeased”.