broom
I was so happy when I first learned to ride a broom.
They said it would take me four weeks to get used to flying.
Well, as Iām ever a contestant for the overachiever of the year award, I aimed for three. It all went so well, I could kick start within two days, hovered steady in a week.
Today, two weeks and six days after I first learned to fly, I snuck out of the academy with a broom I stole from the broom closet, and flew as fast as I could to the forest behind school.
I zoomed over tree tops and pissed off a bird of prey sitting on its nest. It was awesome.
Just when I started to feel really elated, the broom started to make spluttering noises.
I thought nothing of it, until I noticed I was slowly losing altitude. It did not take me long to realise I forgot to fuel it with magic before take off.
I tried to remember the charging spell, but panicked when I noticed where the broom headed, a huge old house in the centre of the forest, very well hidden by the trees.
It looked decrepit, like one of those houses in zombie games.
When the broom moved closer, I decided it was worse, even zombies wouldnāt want to live here.
The broom sputtered. I held on for dear life and shouted the spell. Well, what I remembered from it. I was so happy when I started to draw magic from the forest.
I was too late. The broom halted.
Only then I realised the broom was one of the villainous sort. It went right for the big chimney in the centre of the house. Then, the broom shook me off and I fell into the chimney.
And now Iām stuck there with my feet dangling mid-air and my skirts up past my ears.
I feel rather stupid, I havenāt told anyone what I was going to do. My mom always told me that one day, my impulsive streak might kill meā¦
The teachers probably think Iām gathering herbs in the mountains with some of my friends. I now wish I was. Seems fun, in hindsight.
I really should have learned telepathic communication first.