Hilda the Wicked Witch

Bubba was angry. He was riding on the back of his own machine, sitting behind his woman, Angel. His hand was giving him tremendous pain, making it impossible for him to ride his own bike. This was so humiliating. And then there also were the large bruises in his face and on his chest from when he had fallen to the ground in the middle of the street. The collar was still around his neck, as well as a few cuts from the attempts of Julius to cut the damned thing off him. The few times he allowed his woman to ride his bike with him in back, he had the opportunity to squeeze Angel's boobs, but even that small pleasure was not granted to him, as he needed one hand, the good one, to hold on to her. And the other hand... These thoughts and not many other went round in his brain.

  Gollem, one of the silent types, gestured that he would need to fuel up soon. Bubba nodded. Talking was impossible with the raging of the engines and the wind blowing in their ears.

  "Stop!"

  Bubba didn't respond. He didn't even register the word that was yelled at him. The whack against the back of his head registered all the better. With a growl he looked to the left, and what he saw there made him squeeze his arm around his woman so tightly that he pressed all air out of her. That in turn triggered her to bang on his hand, so he would let off again.

  "Stop. Or I make you stop." Hilda was flying next to Bubba's bike, just out of the reach of his hand, in case he had any plans with that.

  "God-fucking-dammit! It's the bitch!" the leader of the pack yelled. "Speed up!" His outburst was received by all ears. Heads turned, eyes went large and accelerators were turned. The bikes as well as the broom picked up speed.

  Hilda was not pleased. She had stretched her boundaries already by telling them to stop, and they didn't listen. Battling the wind and the noise from the engines, she popped up her wand and fired off a spell to a spot half a mile further down the road. Then she slowed down, seeing the motorcycles speed away from her.

  At a more relaxed pace, one that allowed her to fly normal and didn't make her braids stand out in straight lines behind her, she flew on. This was a very quiet road, and nobody else would get hurt. Not that it mattered much to Hilda's current state of aggravated mind. She was fed up with this place, and the clothing that had looked so interesting at first was annoying her. She wanted to wear her own dress again without attracting attention.

  After half a mile she landed the broom. With her transport in hand walked to where all motorcycles were stuck in semi-liquid asphalt. Also their riders were stuck in it up to their thighs. The asphalt wasn't planning on letting them get out, it seemed to pull at them more the fiercer they fought it.

  Hilda made her broom hover in the air. It was purely showing off, she knew, but these people seemed to need that. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and placed her hands on her hips. "I told you to stop." She made it sound as an accusation.

  "Get us out of this shit, you bitch," was the first thing Bubba could think of as a greeting.

  "Witch," Hilda corrected him.

  "What?"

  "Witch. I am a witch. Also a bitch, I grant you that, but that comes in the second place. Hmmm... perhaps a bit closer than that. But that's not why I am here. I want my necklace back."

  "First get us out of this fuckin' muck, bitch witch," Bubba relayed the feelings of his companions and himself to her.

  "The necklace. It is around the neck of your woman." Hilda pointed her wand at the treasure, which unlocked itself and floated to its rightful owner. Without her having to lift a finger, the necklace settled itself around Hilda's neck. The weight of it comforted her. Things would be well now. She could go home and leave this place of lunacy.

  "Right. You got your fuckin' necklace. Now get us out!" Bubba was almost out of himself with rage.

  "You did not give me my necklace, I had to take it off her myself. And there are more reasons why I'm not getting you out of this. For one, you never called me honourable witch. Good day." Hilda turned and took her broom, when she heard a strange, metallic click. In a reflex she cast a protective spell, and was not a second too soon with that. Smokey, one of the gang members, had pulled out his gun. He had flipped off the safety, which was what Hilda had heard. As the witch turned back to the group that was stuck in slimy asphalt, Smokey aimed for her head. He knew that from this distance he could not miss, and fired.

  Hilda stared at him, while the bullet stuck in her protective shield, several inches away from her face. "You should not have done that. You have just made me angry."

  "Hey lady, can't you just get us out?" Bluto waved at her. "We don't mean you no harm, me and Julius and Bitch here."

  Hilda recognised the big man who had supplied her with the wine at O'Malley's bar. He had also been the one to take Bubba out on the leash when their mighty leader was afloat. "You went with them. That means you feel you belong to them."

  "Hey, you sent us away with them, remember?" Bluto tried. "You even put his leash in my hand. That makes us friends, right?"

  "Bluto, keep your stinking trap shut, you blabbering idiot," Bubba vented his suppressed feelings. "You just want out and leave me here to rot cuz you want your own gang."

  Despite their distance in the goo, the two tried to punch each other's lights out.

  Hilda raised her eyebrows. She could not believe what she saw and heard. Slowly she raised her wand, took the crystal ball in her hand and slowly spoke her spell: "Commutatus vestitus praecantrix."

  The shoulder bag changed back into her witch's attire. The denim clothes fell on the ground. Her braids were gone and her long hair hung down her back. In her black clothes with the wide dark red cloak she looked regal and all the fearsome witch that she was.

  The group in the liquefied asphalt had not noticed the change. They all were cheering Bubba and Bluto who were still trying to hit each other. Everyone was joining in the brawl, hitting everyone they could reach.

  "Stop." Hilda's voice thundered. It had the intended result. She didn't need to wait long for the shouting of the men and women on the half-hidden bikes to end, and then she stepped forward to where the road was no longer solid. "This was the second time I had to tell you to stop," Hilda said. "You are incorrigible. You act like children. You don't listen. You shout, you fight. I loathe you." She picked her broom from the air behind her again and hung it where she could easily sit on it.

  "Do you now, bitch," Smokey mumbled and in a move fast as lightning (or at least he hoped it looked like that) he raised his gun, set to fire another round. He tried to anyway, but his finger didn't move. And then the rest of his arm did not want to cooperate. "FUCK!" he screamed, as needles seemed to be everywhere in his entire arm. He dropped the gun and saw it slowly sink into the concrete where his own legs and groin were stuck also.

  Bluto then made a mistake. He could have known that his action was not the smartest. He took his heavy iron chain bracelet and flung that at Hilda. "Get your bloody magic hands off my brother!"

  Hilda caught the chain effortlessly and looked at it. "And yet again," she said with a sigh, "you disappoint me. The second time also. You are not worthy of my attention or powers." She bent down and tapped the denim clothes with her wand. "Commutatus vestitus domesticus." Instantly she was dressed in the inconspicuous, denim clothes again. Another moment later the black and red shoulder bag was back in her hand. She slipped the crystal ball in the hidden pocket and made her wand disappear. Then she mounted her broom and rose several feet into the air. The motorcycle gang stared at what happened before their eyes.

  Hilda looked at the pathetic group stuck in the road, shrugged and flew off.

  8. The route home