by Paul Kater
Hilda covered her head with her hands. This was no time to bring up a wand, because there simply was no time for that. "Umbrae!", she shouted, "give me friggin' umbrae!"
The odd combination of English and Latin decided that there was more need for action than for the drama of the delayed effect of the English. A protective layer of solid air formed around the witch, which brought the agonising rain of rubble and stones on her body to an end.
"Crap, crap, crappedy crap," Hilda cursed as she dared to lift her head and look at what she had wreaked. The work of the Angel of the Abyss would have been less devastating.
Just when she thought it was over, a roaring sound hit her ears. "Oh no," Hilda groaned. She did not know the sound, but it was loud enough to mean even more trouble.
Smoke billowed up and the roar changed a bit. Then a large 4x4 pickup truck shot out of the smoke, the man behind the wheel doing all he could to avoid the boulders that were in his way. The fast trip over the rocky plateau came to an end when the truck smashed into the rock on the other side of it. The roar ended.
Hilda had watched the roaring contraption with its large wheels and high speed do its slalom through the boulders. The whack that echoed over the plateau as it hit the granite side of the mountain made her squeeze her eyes. "Ouch. That must have hurt," she was certain.
The wicked witch remained on her belly, her eyes shut, her nose in the dust and her protective layer of solid air over her until she was absolutely sure that this strange wagon was the last thing that would happen.
As finally the sounds had gone back to the soft blowing of the wind, she removed the protection and got to her feet. She inspected herself. "Damn. Another tear in the skirt." She sighed. Then she looked at the cart. It was blue and silver. And huge. It stood proud on black wheels, in their centre what had been gleaming silver caps. Now they were mere caps, somehow hanging on.
Hilda frowned. There had not been a horse in front of it. Then her eyes became large: she remembered where she had seen such a thing before! It had been at that weirdest of times when she had been sucked into that insane world, where people did not recognise a witch if she spit them in the eyes!
"Impossible," she mumbled. Her wand appeared in her hand, as one could never be too careful with this kind of close encounters.
As she approached the vehicle, she saw that there were indeed glass windows everywhere around it. None of them allowed a peek inside, as there was dust all over them, and not a square inch of glass had remained unscratched. The front of the thing was very warm. Hilda used her wand on it, to cool it down. Then she slowly reached out to the handle of the door and pulled it. The door did not move. She pulled harder. The door moved just as little.
"Open up, you stupid thing," Hilda said, pointing the wand at the door. A few seconds later the door clicked out of its lock and slowly swung open. From inside the vehicle came a groaning, moaning sound. There was someone inside it.
Hilda carefully pulled the door open, her wand aimed and ready.
A man pushed himself up from the round thing he had been leaning against, moaning some more. Then he looked at Hilda.
Hilda looked at him. He looked at Hilda.
Two voices at the same time said: "You?!"
4. And so we meet again
The two gaped at each other for a while. Then Hilda asked: "How did you get here?"
William, who examined his nose and cheeks for broken parts, replied: "I was hoping you could tell me that." As his face seemed umblemished, he undid his seatbelt and carefully climbed from his truck.
The man looked around, to see where he had ended up. "Good grief, what happened here? Did I miss a stone-throwing contest of giants?"
"No giants here. Not anymore anyway," Hilda enlightened William, still staring at him in disbelief. "Now tell me how you got here, and why?" That also was something Hilda wondered about.
"How I got here..." William rubbed his face. "Hell if I know, Hilda. I really don't know. I was driving along in my truck" -he looked at the sad remains- "when all of a sudden the small crystal ball you left started singing. I can't call it anything else, it was singing. I tried to reach for it when suddenly there were loud sounds around me like explosions, lightning cracked all around the car and things went dark outside. Then all of a sudden I saw a faint light, drove on towards it and the closer I got, the faster the car went. I didn't have to a thing for that, it just drove itself. And then it shot out of that dark tunnel and I had to work the wheel like crazy to avoid those rocks back there." William sighed. "Could have saved me the trouble if you ask me."
"I did not ask you about trouble," Hilda remarked. Then she recalled something. "Oh no. Don't tell me..."
"Tell you what? I just told you-"
"Shut up," Hilda invited him to be quiet. She turned and ran back to where her table had last been. "Crappedy crap, where is it!" Frantically she looked around for her own crystal ball. It did not show itself.
The witch pulled out her wand as William scurried closer. "Come here, you."
"Okay, I am already here," William said, raising his hands just to be on the safe side.
Hilda whirled around and faced him. "Not you! Argh!" She shook her head and waved her wand. "Come here, ball!' She held out her hand, and a few seconds later the crystal ball freed itself from the rubble it had gotten buried under. It raised itself into the air, whizzed over to the witch and landed in her hand.
William stared at the hand with the ball. "My god, you really are a witch."
"Of course. What do you think made me disappear from your insane world? Breadcrumbs? Think again, William Connoley." Hilda tucked the crystal ball in her pocket and then used her wand to clean herself up and fixed the tear in her dress.
"William, are you hurting?" Hilda found it necessary to ask him, as he was clearly confused and very unaware how he had gotten here, to the real world.
William looked at the woman with the long grey hair. She had not changed a bit in all these years, he saw, where he had put on a few pounds and traded some of his brown hair for grey ones. "No, I think I'm fine." He looked at himself. His suit had taken a beating, but he was still reasonably presentable.
To his surprise, as he checked his shoes, he saw a cupcake. He bent and picked it up. "Do these grow here?"
Hilda quickly took it from his hand. "It's mine. I conjured them up." Then she saw his surprised and confused face again. "Sorry." She put the small cake back in his hand. "You can have it if you want."
William smiled. "Thank you." Politely he picked a few small pieces of rock out of it and ate it. "Holy Bejeebus," he said, "these are good!"
"I know. I take good care of myself," Hilda said, pride evident. "Uhm, what are you going to do now? I have a problem to handle."
William scratched his head. "I am not really sure. Looks like the truck is not going anywhere soon, unless you have a Ford dealership around who can get here."
Hilda stared at him blandly. "We have only regular things here. Cartmakers, wheelmakers, horsemen." She hoped she got through to him.
A feeling of discomfort crawled over William. The car was a mess. He didn't even want to consider what had happened to the engine, but from the looks of the front of the car it had been shortened by a considerable number of inches.
He took his phone and flipped it open. "No signal. Why had I already expected that..."
"What magic is that?", asked Hilda, peeking at the shiny device. "Can you kill people with that?"
William grinned. "You'd have to try very hard, Hilda." He put the phone away. "Maybe I ask stupid things, but can you fix the car for me?"
Hilda looked at William as if he had asked her for her virginity. Then she looked at the car. "That."
"Yes. That."
Hilda walked over to the car and looked at it. "What does it do?"
"You drive it. You sit behind the wheel, fire up the engine, shift gears, press the pedals and you go."
The wicked witch was intrigued, and looked at what
William pointed out. "This is an insane cart," she decided. "There are three pedals, and you only have two feet."
"You don't press all of them at once."
Hilda gave him a contemptuous look. "Insane. And what makes it go? There is no horse. No mule."
"There's a big V 8 engine in the front," said William. He was not too technical, but he knew that.
"Vee ate..." Hilda sampled it on her tongue. "What is vee ate?"
The book salesman started to worry. This was not going well very quickly. "It is under there," he pointed, "but it is all cracked and wrung out of shape now. I can't open it."
Hilda snorted. "Such a big man. Abscindo obductio."
A blood-chilling sound came from the front of the smashed-up truck as the bonnet was torn away by an invisible hand. William became a whiter shade of pale as he saw and heard it happen.
Hilda could not look into the engine compartment and cast a slightly accusing glance at the owner of the scrapheap. A flick of the wand made her float up. "So, that is vee ate. Doesn't look like much, William. I'd put my silver on a horse if I were you."
"Does that mean you can't fix it?" The salesman felt all hope fleeting.
"Yes. Sorry. I have to have some idea of what it is in order to fix it. This is..." Hilda shrugged and shook her head. She was not happy with the situation, but she knew that she had to do something for William. He knew nothing and probably could do as much. She got her feet back on the ground, walked to the door of the truck and looked inside. She mumbled a few words and waited.
Some metal parts inside the car made it clear that they did not like to be ripped out of shape, but that was not Hilda's concern. A few moments later she turned to William and held out her hand. "Here. Yours." She held the small crystal ball that she had taken from the Swarovsky shop in the man's nutty world. "Good to keep that with you, trust me."
William accepted the precious little ball and with delight he saw that the tiny light inside it was still dancing. The ball had not even been scratched.
Hilda looked at how he gazed at the light, how his face relaxed and his eyes started to shine as he saw the bouncing light. "You like it, don't you?"
"Yes. I do. Very much. It is a precious reminder of our encounter. Our first encounter." William closed his fingers over the ball as he looked at the wicked witch. "When you had gone, I could hardly believe that you had been there, Hilda. But then I found this ball in the back of the old truck, and when I saw the dancing light, I knew it had to be true. And now you are here- I mean now I am here. You really haven't changed a bit."
Hilda frowned. "Let's get down to business, William. We cannot stay here. My goal for coming here has been blown. Your... thing there is not going anywhere. I guess I'll have to take you with me for now and then we'll see what we can work out." She snipped her fingers, and from somewhere the broom came running. "You got any stuff you want to take with you?"
William stared at the floating broom that had raced up to them. "Uhm, yes, I got a bag with some clothes with me."
"Get it out of your thing, then we'll go."
William went onto the back of his thing, and forced one of the metal crates open. The lid had taken a severe bashing on the trip from the real world to this funny place. He found his weekend-bag. "I hope this is not too big."
Hilda grinned. "Not a problem. Anything else?"
William jumped off the back of the picked, his bag in hand. "Nothing I need just now," he said.
"Right." Hilda took her wand. "Pocket-size," she said. Seconds later, the bag was indeed small enough to fit into a pocket comfortably.
"Holy Bejeebus.", said William as she pointed at it.
"Put it in your pocket, or wherever you like it, man. Don't give me that holy crap. I don't do holy crap, I tell you now. And don't forget that." Hilda conjured up a second broom and handed it to William. "Here. A ride you can depend on. Better than that no-good piece of junk you came here with."
Henry Ford would not have been happy to hear her statement, had he been able to hear it.
"Right," said William, eyeing the broom. "And how am I supposed to go about this?" He mounted the broom best as he knew.
Hilda let out a sound that is best described as utter despair. "Planning on flying backwards, are you? Here, let me show you." She mounted the broom, bristles to the front, and lifted off a few feet. "That is how it works."
William stared, again. "Not the way they told me how it works," he grinned. He turned the broom around.
"Okay. Hold on and don't wobble about too much. I'm not used to flying two people at the same time. I'll go slow at first."
William had no idea what to expect, only that there would be a very uncanny and uncomfortable feeling between his legs, that would make proper sitting a chore. To his surprise, there was nothing of that. It felt as if there was a soft cushion under his behind as the broom lifted him into the air. It did not feel unstable at all.
"Are you okay there?", Hilda asked from several yards higher up.
"So far, so good," William said. He did not dare to wave at her. Holding on to the broomstick with both hands did feel like the proper thing to do. After all, it was only a broomstick.
"Cool puppies," Hilda said with a grin. She found some bizarre pleasure in this. "Hang on then, we're going!" She started off the flight slowly, as she had promised. Gone for now were the anxiety and the fear about the challenge, the worries about how to get out of that alive. She had a new thing to entertain herself with, and that give her a thrill she did not have very often.
William at first only focussed on staying on the broom. The environment went by mostly unnoticed. After a few minutes already, however, he felt more confident. The invisible seat was stable and felt good, so he glanced up to Hilda a few times, who flew higher than he did for some reason. He also now dared to look around a bit, seeing the last bits of mountainous area fleet away beneath them. They were approaching a magnificent lake, blue as only in fairy-tales or photoshopped pictures. The grassy patches around it, interspersed with incredibly high trees, were greener than green. He saw herds of sheep, and people walking along with them in clothes that belonged in the Middle Ages, as they were not flying that high.
The shepherds did not notice the witch and her strange companion up in the air, or did not deem them interesting enough to react to. After all, there were more important things to do, like making sure the sheep were not drifting away from the herd. Sheep were important.
"We're going higher," Hilda warned William. It was necessary to avoid the high treetops. She was however a wicked witch. She got it exactly so that William's shoes hit the tops of the first trees they were coming over, making him squeal and grab hold of the broom again with a frenzy.
"Relax, nothing can go wrong," Hilda told him, but her laughter did not underline that statement.
5. Flying business
As they progressed, Hilda sped up the journey. Otherwise, she knew, it would be past dusk before they'd reach her house. While they were flying faster, talking had become more difficult, which was fine with Hilda. She pained her head about what had happened, and the complications that it would present while she was trying to mosey herself through the challenge bit.
William was getting more confident about the flying business and looked around freely now. They had passed over several small villages that all looked interesting. He would love to go there and see what kind of bookstores they had, if any.
He noticed that they were slowing down again as they sailed over a large forest area.
"This is the forest where most of the gnomes live," Hilda told him. She had dropped some altitude and was flying next to William now.
"Gnomes. Right." William did not grin or try to make a funny remark. He had seen so many things already that did not make sense, gnomes were easily added to that gallery.
"When we're past this, we're going to make a circle over the castle of the king and the mean queen," Hilda informed him, "although most of her meanness has left he
r by now, I guess." She chuckled and did not elaborate for William. That was okay for him though, he was curious to see a castle in a fairy-tale land. He had decided that that was where he had indeed ended up and was reaching acceptance with that.
The castle took his breath away. No picture in any book, in any artist's mind, could have equalled the appearance of this phenomenal white building, with its high towers, wide moat, large inner courts and giant flowerbeds.
The swoop they made around the castle did not go unnoticed. Walt, who was walking outside for a while, enjoying the last rays of sunshine, saw Hilda and the unknown guest. He waved at them. As he heard the shrieking, cackling laughter of the wicked witch, he grinned. It still was good to be king, and to rub elbows with that witch at times. He did wonder who the person on the other broom was. Perhaps, he thought, she had a visit from some warlock, as the man seemed very much at ease on the broomstick as well.
William did not wave at the king, as per explicit instruction of the witch. "We do not wave at people. People wave at us and we're the ones with the stuck up nose that don't wave back," she had told him. "I know you are not a witch, but you are not going to ruin my reputation because of that detail. Be warned." And so he was warned.
After completing a full round along the castle grounds, Hilda made the brooms set course to her house. She praised herself for having a few more rooms. At least that would not be a problem. A bed would be conjured up quickly enough. And a lock.
They approached the house. It's red roof was visible from far away, as the rays of the retreating sun appeared to set it on fire.
"Looks like your house is on fire," said William.
"Looks are deceiving. This is my house, I know how it can act at times. Here, have another cupcake."
