By Srinidhi Ranganathan in Artificial Intelligence — Sep 24, 2024

The Investor Who Was a Witch

"Welcome, seeker," a raspy voice called out. An old woman with wild gray hair emerged from behind a beaded curtain. "I am Madame Zara. How may I assist you?"

I never should have trusted her. But when Madame Zara promised to make me rich beyond my wildest dreams, how could I resist?

It all started when I lost my job at the bank. Desperate for a way to pay my bills, I wandered into Madame Zara's Fortune Telling shop on a whim. The smoky interior smelled of incense, and crystal balls glittered on velvet-draped tables.

"Welcome, seeker," a raspy voice called out. An old woman with wild gray hair emerged from behind a beaded curtain. "I am Madame Zara. How may I assist you?"

"I-I need money," I stammered. "I just lost my job and-"

She held up a gnarled hand. "Say no more. I sense great wealth in your future. For a small fee, I can unlock your true potential as an investor."

I hesitated. It sounded too good to be true. But what did I have to lose?

"Okay," I said. "I'll do it."

Madame Zara's eyes glinted. She muttered strange words and waved her hands over a bubbling cauldron. Then she handed me a vial of green liquid.

"Drink this potion, and you will have the power to see the future of the stock market," she cackled. "Use it wisely."

I downed the vial in one gulp. It tasted like rotten eggs and burned my throat. But almost immediately, I felt different. Numbers and stock tickers flashed before my eyes. I could see it all - which stocks would rise, which would fall.

The next day, I invested my life savings. Within a week, I'd tripled my money. A month later, I was a millionaire.

People started to notice. They begged me for stock tips. I was featured in financial magazines. Everyone wanted to know my secret.

But there was a catch. Each time I used my power, I felt a little weaker. My hair started falling out. My skin turned sallow. I was aging rapidly.

I confronted Madame Zara. "What's happening to me?" I demanded.

She cackled. "Foolish mortal. Did you think such power came without a price? With each prediction, you sacrifice a piece of your life force. Soon, you will wither away entirely."

I was horrified. "How do I stop it?"

"You can't," she sneered. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" I pleaded.

"Unless you find someone to take your place. Transfer the curse to them, and you'll be free."

I knew it was wrong. But I was desperate. I convinced my younger brother to drink a vial of the "lucky potion." As soon as he swallowed it, I felt my strength returning. My brother's eyes widened as visions of the future flooded his mind.

"This is amazing!" he exclaimed. "I can see everything!"

I forced a smile, guilt gnawing at my insides. "Use it wisely," I said, echoing Madame Zara's words.

As I left my brother's house, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My youth had been restored, but something was different. My eyes glowed with an eerie green light. My fingers were gnarled and witchlike.

With horror, I realized the truth. I hadn't just transferred the curse.

I had become the next Madame Zara.

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