The Witch's Last Jest - By Nor Ruzaini binti M Yassin

Written By: Nor Ruzaini binti M Yassin

Category: Short Story / Romance / Fantasy / Drama

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the enchanting short story "The Witch's Last Jest," written by Nor Ruzaini binti M Yassin under the pen name Yuu Myieka, readers are invited into a narrative brimming with romance, drama, and fantasy. As part of Hashtag Kalakar's Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this evocative tale explores the haunting dreams of Avery, whose nightly visions blur the lines between love and reality. Through a gripping storyline, the narrative weaves a timeless theme of love, sacrifice, and the tragic weight of an unbroken curse.

About the Work

"The Witch's Last Jest" delves into a world where dreams and reality intertwine, evoking a rich tapestry of emotions. The story's atmosphere is painted with vivid imagery and an underlying sense of urgency, as Avery grapples with the enigmatic figure from his dreams. The narrative's mood fluctuates between haunting and hopeful, encapsulating themes of enduring love and its relentless trials. With a beautifully crafted blend of fantasy and drama, the story leaves an indelible impression of the timeless struggle between destiny and desire.

The Witch's Last Jest by Yuu Myieka

Original Submission by Nor Ruzaini binti M Yassin

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HASHTAG KALAKAR GLOBAL POETRY & CREATIVE WRITING COMPETITION SUBMISSION

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PERSONAL DETAIL

FULL NAME: NOR RUZAINI BINTI M YASSIN

PEN NAME: YUU MYIEKA

ADDRESS: NO.23, JALAN NUSA TROPIKA 1, TAMAN NUSA TROPIKA, 68000 AMPANG

STATE / COUNTRY: SELANGOR, MALAYSIA

PHONE NUMBER: +601111126523

EMAIL: yuumyieka@outlook.com

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TITLE: THE WITCH ‘S LAST JEST

GENRE: ROMANCE / DRAMA / FANTASY

WORD COUNT: ABOUT 3000

SYNOPSIS:

Avery is haunted by vicious, recurring nightmares; every night, the same faceless woman tragically dies in his arms. This phantom grief and desperation trigger a fierce protectiveness over Hazel, his childhood friend’ sister that he believes resembles the woman from his dream. But when a catastrophic accident that nearly claim their lives, shatters the boundaries of his reality, centuries-old curse snaps open. What follows is the unveiling a devastating trap, supreme act of sacrifice, and the ultimate cruelty of an everlasting, unrequited love.

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The Witch’s Last Jest

By Yuu Myieka

“I’ve always liked this scene.”

Her voice was soft. Her eyes gazed into the horizon. The view stretched into an infinity like a vast canvas catching the day’s final, fiery breaths. As the sun sank beneath the earth’s edge, it left a brilliant gradient of bruised violet sky. Cool air settling over the grass brushed her ankles, whipping her heavy crimson dress into a lively dance.

She laughed, amused by her own skirt. She grabbed a part of it and began to twirl. She caught my hand mid-spin. As the wind blew with growing intensity, it felt as though we were flying, bound together against a fierce updraft while the ground fell away beneath us.

But as the sky darkened, so did my vision.

Linen turned to ash. Laughter turned to tears. Chuckles twisted into screams. That crimson dress deepened as blood bathed her entire body. The warmth under my hand turned iced-cold, dropping me to my knees on a stone floor slick with rushing red.

She was still in my arms, her chest heaving as the thick liquid gushed from a ragged wound in her stomach. I pressed hard against it, only to soak my palms through. My throat caught; I tore a ruptured scream into the void for a rescue that never came. I witnessed the light fade from her eyes as she reached up, staining my jaw with bloody fingers. She whispered barely a breath, yet it banged my eardrums, skull-splitting.

A single, suffocating directive; Save me.

I bolted upright, my fingers digging into my mattress. My chest wheezed wildly as I searched the darkness for a face I only remembered in sleep. Minutes bled by. My heart buckled under an all-too-familiar wave of longing, guilt and remorse. Confused, where did these even come from?

This was how it always started, and how it always ended. Sometimes she wore a super-fancy gown, like from the medieval fantasy movies. Sometimes it was a black blouse and skirt, capped with a funeral veil. Other times, a modern summer dress rippling by the sea.

It began with small, quiet talk, drizzling with teasing and laughter, then a soft, lovely touch that blew life under my skin –only to be torn apart by the vicious shatter of loss. It left me gasping for air, desperate to prolong her alive for even a heartbeat more. Yet despite my efforts, her touch, her gazed and her breath inevitably slipped from my grasp.

A witch’s curse.

I was the prince. The failed knight in armor, hopelessly watching his princess succumb to death over a thousand lifetimes.

I wondered who she was. In dreamland, I saw her face perfectly. Awake, the details blurred fluidly –I couldn’t even recall her cheeks’ slope, her skin’s tone, or if she bore freckles or moles.

Only fragments remained. Her light giggles. Her melodic voice. The way she paced her steps to match mine, occasionally tripping so I would catch her waist and pull her close. There was never a love’s confession, or anything similar, yet those were the happiest periods of my existence –mere dream-moments that I would chase through centuries just to feel it again.

My thoughts were interrupted by the blinking light on my nightstand. I reached for my phone and snorted at the message.

Lunch

One word. Only one person texted me like that. I pulled back the blackout curtains. A familiar silhouette leaned against a black Audi parked in my yard. I tapped out to reply and then stopped. Nah. I scrolled to find my music app instead, then dove into the bathroom.

Under the streaming shower rain, the nameless face from my dream continued rumbling my mind. Reaching for my phone again beside the sink, I started texting.

Wanna grab a lunch? Usual place, at 2?

Seconds later, a reply shot back.

Dentist. Dessert?

Like brother, like sister. Did these two never finish their English lesson?

Ok, love. C u there.

I finished my shower quickly, pulled my best outfit, misted some fruity cologne –I know she likes it, slicked my red hair back with gel, and flashed a grin at the mirror. Handsome. Period.

As I walked out, the figure by the Audi waved with a wide smile, holding the passenger door open. Still treating me like royalty, I see.

“I’m not a kid, you know.”

He shrugged and nodded with a wry smile.

“Yup, you are a full-grown twenty-ish adult.”

What does age have to do with this?

“Duh, old man.”

He laughed at my grumbling, then slid into the driver’s seat, leaning over to fasten my seatbelt before clicking his own. To some it might be weird, but it was a habit he’d kept since forever, and I long lost my energy to argue.

“Hazel said she’s joining for dessert.”

He paused. It was that same bizarre, momentary, unreadable, quiet shifts he always showed whenever Hazel’s name brought up. He nodded, mumbled to himself.

“I was the one who booked her appointment.”

What was that supposed to mean? Did he have and issue with me and Hazel? His overprotectiveness was truly applauded.

We had time before lunch, so I suggested a movie. I had bought tickets assuming Hazel would come, but the moment he realized it was just the two of us, his genuinely beaming face astonished me. He really detested seeing me with his sister, didn’t he?

When it was time for dessert, he brought me to a café located right across from a new construction site. Truck and trailers thundered past, blatant noise of hammering filled the space. He smiled slyly at my reluctant face while opening the door.

“You’ll love it.”

And yes, he was right. Stepping inside felt like crossing into a fairyland. Not a single sound from outside breached the gaps between the doors and windows. The air exhaled the freshness of a forest, blooming with scent of wild flowers.

“Kinda smells like you.”

His eyebrows arched at the remark. The corner of his lips lifted. His deep, musky voice dropped a tone lower.

“Kind makes you feel safe.”

Safe. The word instantly struck a chord deep inside me. Was it because of my dreams? My mind drifted back to my failures of this morning’s nightmare.

“What’s wrong?”

Perceptive as always. I murmured a laugh, brushed it off and ordered our coffees. By 3:30, the swirls I was making with the ice in my glass grew rapid, my soles thumping the floor. I looked out the window.

“She’s late.”

“You’re worried?”

“You’re not? She’s always getting into… things that make you worry she’ll get hurt. Just last week, she was trapped for hours inside that elevator, remember?”

“So that’s why you always protecting her?”

Across the table, the casual clink of silverware stopped abruptly. I turned to him, met by a fierce, boring glare that made me uncomfortable every time. His fingers gripped his mug so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a fleeting second, an expression flashed across his face that froze my breath –a look of profound, ancient exhaustion and crushing grief far too heavy for a brightly lit café.

“She doesn’t need saving.”

His voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth. His gaze grew severe, making me want to flee at that exact moment.

“You don’t need to carry her weight.”

He sounded mad. I let a few seconds slip by, before I laughed off the awkward silence, raising my hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright, defensive big brother. I get it. I’m just saying: I care about her.”

He didn’t laugh back. He shifted his stare down into his mug, swallowing a quiet sigh. I chalked it up to a typical brother complex, completely blind to the meaning behind his white knuckles.

“Hey!”

A sudden, familiar voice broke through the soundproofed café, echoing directly to my brain. I quickly looked outside. Hazel was waving frantically from across the four-lane avenue. Hazel and her eagle eyes.

Her bright yellow tote bag swung against her hip, instantly overlapping the woman figure in my dream. My muscle went stone-still for a breath.

“Hazel’s here. I’ll go bring her over.”

I chose to ignore the sudden strike of warning, at the same time, widening my smile that oppose to his darkening gloomy face and headed out.

The pedestrian light was still green. Hazel took her time, slowly walking towards me. She smiled beautifully, catching a part of her skirt and twirled around. Wind breeze rose up to greet us.

Déjà vu.

My heart started to throb at the scenery, then thump furiously. Panic surged. My eyes darted from Hazel to her surroundings. I saw her foot take a wrong step. She would stumble, completely oblivious to a delivery van dashed towards her from the blind corner.

Time fractured.

A violent, electric jolt slammed into my chest. The blindingly bright afternoon sun suffocated me like the fire in my nightmares. My lungs burned with the phantom taste of ash.

Instinct took over. I lunged off the curb, crossed the asphalt in a single bound, and yanked Hazel backward onto the pavement. The van roared past, its horn blaring an angry note.

“Whoa!”

Hazel blinked in surprise, before letting out a nervous, breathless laugh.

“Clumsy me. I really need to start looking both ways. Thanks, Hon. You saved me!”

“No, you’re not at fault. The light’s still green.”

The words I used to comfort her came out like a rehearsed ritual. But I couldn’t dismiss my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stared blankly at my palms. They weren’t red. They were clean.

Save me –the woman’s voice sharply cut through my mind. A warning? A prophecy? Was I meant to save Hazel? I had almost confirmed my doubts –Hazel does have connection to the woman from my dreams, when she squeezed my hands, her eyes clouding with worry.

“Hey, you okay?”

I forced a relieved smile, unknowing my projected face to her. She seemed taken aback but didn’t push further.

I turned to look at my best friend across the street, expecting him to be shouting at his sister. Instead, he just stood frozen. His face drained of colour. His gaze locked on me. His eyes held an intense horror far too massive for a near-miss. Even from afar, I could see his panted chest, shaking with terrified breath. He looked like a man who just faced the death himself.

Just as I opened my mouth to call his name, he shrieked at the top of his lungs.

“Avery!”

In just three seconds, my world splintered.

One.

My hearing caught a metallic screech as the construction scaffolding tore right above our heads.

Two.

I looked up. A heavy support beam snapped under the crane’s weight.

Three.

A massive cascade of iron and concrete hurtled directly toward me and Hazel, rushing to obliterate us in a split second.

The pedestrian erupted into screams. Terror choked the street.

There was no time to run. I threw my arms around Hazel, spinning her beneath me. I slammed my eyes shut, bracing to shield her from the crushing weight of the falling debris.

The roaring collapse of iron was deafening, followed by a destructive, pulverizing impact –but the pain never came. Instead, a pair of frantic, impossibly strong arms collided with my torso, throwing Hazel and me through the air a millisecond before the concrete crushed the pavement.

We slammed against the asphalt, rolling into a billowing cloud of dust. The world dissolved into car alarms, distant screams and a ringing silence in my own ears. Coughing through thick haze, my hands moved on pure hysteria. I scrambled up, reflexively reaching for the figure beside me, and pulled Hazel into my arms.

“Hazel! Hazel! Open your eyes!”

Her eyes remained shut. My hands moved frantically, searching her body for wounds, fearing she had hit somethings.

I blinked through the settling gray ash. Smoke caught in my throat, tasting bitterly of burning silk. I thought someone had pulled us out of danger. It must be him. He had to be nearby. I scanned the chaos, but a different sight arrested my vision.

Kneeling in the debris inches away, he was bleeding from torn clothes and lacerated arms. He wasn’t looking at the destruction, nor his own sister. He was staring at me, tears cutting clean tracks through the dust covering his face. His chest labored as he fought for air.

I expected to see a pale, shocked face, as he tried to draw his body closer, but somehow, it felt like I am looking at a mirror –I saw my own, shivering, panicking reflection. On impulse, I looked down at Hazel and stunned at her blurry features. It shifted, morphing into a terrifyingly familiar face –the very face belonged strictly to my dreams.

The faceless woman, now became strikingly clear in front of me. The red hair. The small mole above her lips. The split chin. All same as me. I was confused. I looked up at my best friend again, who kept his trembling eyes locked on me.

“What is this?”

“You’re saved, Avery. You’re alive.”

It wasn’t an answer, but the words he spoke churned my stomach. His voice carried raw unfiltered contrition and self-condemnation, mixed with an unquenchable longing. My throat went numb. He chanted the same sentence like a mantra as he reached my face, tilting my chin towards him, gently stroking my cheek.

In a blink, the lock on my memory concussively snapped open. Fractured pieces of a cosmic maze rushed backward through time, stitching together in a devastating flash.

A young prince and an enchanting witch.

It was a tender love at the beginning, but manipulation and deceit tore them apart, spiraling into an eternal tragedy. A royal crown. Crackling pyre flames. The suffocating weight of a dying breath.

I wasn’t the heroic prince chasing a phantom princess in my dreams. I was the woman. I was the witch who hurled an everlasting curse at the prideful yet naïve prince who destroyed my world, binding him to a wheel of endless torment.

“What would you do, my prince, if you faced the death of your lover at an early age, for eternity? Would you save them, over and over again?”

The witch’s last jest. The casual joke on a forgotten morning turned into an unrelenting purgatory. The toll of an oath that had become the ultimate heartbreak.

It all made sense now. My feminine-liked name. His treatments towards me. The bizarre reactions. The ancient loneliness fleeted in his eyes. It was all directed at me. He had walked through an abyss of time, orchestrating his entire life just to be by my side, trying to keep my soul alive and earn forgiveness I had denied him for centuries.

I met his weeping gaze, carried the uncountable weights of agony. I recognized his remorse. I sympathized with the depth of his devotion. I caught the fleeting shadows of his yearning and solitude. But it was a mere flash-cut of memory films. I couldn’t feel his reality. I couldn’t reciprocate the feelings the prince wanted from me. My soul long been hardwired for Hazel, over years of protection and survival.

Tears pooling slowly, I called his name. It felt different. It felt… distant.

“Alaric.”

My voice fractured as I realized I couldn’t give him what he desired.

“I’m sorry.”

I broke into cries, tightening my grip on the unconscious Hazel. I wanted to hug him, but I couldn’t.

“Forgive me.”

Alaric’s tear poured relentlessly at my words. Perhaps, he genuinely had wanted to say that phrase to me throughout his years of misery, yet he remained silent, whimpering and sobbing, bursting out his centuries-long-emotion for the first time.

Our moment broke when Hazel slowly opened her eyes and reached for my fingers. I quickly turned to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She offered a faint smile, lost in adoration as she met my gaze, before snapping to attention at the swell of my eyes. She allowed a momentary paused, then leaned in slowly, sealing her lips against mine, instantly quieting the turbulent storm inside my chest.

This might be what brought Alaric’s final realization. Defeated, his shoulder slumped. His head sank. His chin dropped to his chest. He wept without a single sound, pooling tears on the floor, collapsing inward.

Holding the hand of the woman I loved, the supreme cruelty of the curse lay bare: Alaric had saved my life, but he long lost his chance to ever win my heart. The prince had broken the eternity of death, only to trap himself in a boundless, unrequited love.

End

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates the vibrant tapestry of global voices in poetry and creative writing. This prestigious platform invites writers from around the world to showcase their unique narratives and styles, fostering a community of creativity and literary excellence. Participants engage in a rich exchange of ideas and cultural expressions, contributing to the ever-evolving landscape of contemporary literature.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Nor Ruzaini binti M Yassin for sharing "The Witch's Last Jest" with us. Your participation in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 enriches our understanding of love's complex nature and the power of storytelling. We are honored to present your captivating work, which beautifully intertwines fantasy and reality, leaving a lasting impact on our readers.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.