Hilda the Wicked Witch

By Paul Kater

A fairy-land witch is transported to our world as a mishap makes a spell blow up in her face and mirror. The journey home is one filled with struggle, problems and many misunderstandings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Kater
• Release date: Jul 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452353401

Paul Kater

Paul Kater was born in the Netherlands in 1960. He quickly developed a feel for books and languages but ended up in the IT business despite that. Books and languages never ceased to fascinate him, so since 2003 he's been actively writing, encouraged by friends on the internet. The internet is the reason why most of his work is in English. A friend asking for writing help is why some of his writing is now also in Dutch. Paul currently lives in Cuijk, the Netherlands, with his books, possibly with cats, and the many characters he's developed in the past years, who claim he is a figment of their imagination.

Book preview

Hilda the wicked witch

by Paul Kater

Published by the author at Smashwords

as a member of the Alexandria Publishing Group.

Copyright 2010-2014 Paul Kater

First edition: July 2010.

Second edition: October 2013.

Third (revised) edition: March 2014.

License Notes - Smashwords Edition.

Thank you for downloading this free e-book. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.

***

1. Bantrey's bookshop

2. A bar called O'Malley's

3. Hocus Pocus

4. The necklace

5. Charging the ball

6. The hunt commences

7. I told you to stop

8. The route home

9. Cops and witches

10. The book store

11. William Connoley

12. Going home

About the author

***

1. Bantrey's bookshop

The noise of engines being switched off died away, and as there was so much of it, that took some time. Hiding behind curtains people carefully looked out into the street, doing their best to stay out of view. The motorcycle gang was back in town, and usually that did not bode well. They also didn't like to be stared at.

Dammit, Skull, when you gonna to fix that stinking carburetor! one of the men yelled as he got off his Harley. The woman that usually was behind him had already jumped off to get herself to safety. Her man Bubba was angry, and when he was like that he didn't pay attention to anything, as several kicks in her side had taught her long ago.

Yo, Bubba, I thought I done so! Skull kicked the innocent and abused engine block. I'll look at it later, I need a piss and a drink first.

Yeah! the rest of the gang joined in. They trotted off towards the nearest bar, which was by default destined for an involuntary remodelling. The six big bikes remained in the middle of the street, unattended. Nobody would dare to touch them.

-=-=-

The proprietor of Bantrey's Bookshop hurried to the window. Oh dear. They're back.

William Connoley stepped up to the window and saw the motorcycles. They? No friends of yours I assume?

The motorcycle gang. It’s run by someone they call Bubba, Bert Bantrey explained. The obnoxious yellow machine is his property, although I'm not sure how he obtained it.

I see, said William Connoley, who wasn't very interested in motorcycles. Now... about this book... He returned to the table on which a large, leather-bound book lay open. The sides of the pages had a thin golden lining, the paper was old and had turned yellow over time, and the writing had more resemblance to the patient copying-work of an old monk than something a modern printer could produce. I do want this book but the price you ask for it is outrageous, my good man. He carefully tapped a page, making sure he didn't touch the text nor the gold. The book was old enough to be handled with respect.

Bert Bantrey sighed and looked at the tome. I know the price is high, my dear friend, but it is worth it. Every single penny. I cannot go any lower unless I want to cut into my own flesh. I mean... look at the leather. Look at the writing. Feel the paper and its original texture... William Connoley slowly was dragged into the sale. He knew that the price was not at all over the top but his merchant spirit didn't want to give in so easily. He slowly paged through the book a bit longer, looking at the words. He held the book up against the light for a moment, to see how the pattern in the paper was perfect everywhere. He mumbled something to himself, then looked Bert Bantrey in the eye. Bert already sensed that he had won. A smile was on his face, his hand was in position to be shaken. Come on, Bill, do it. You know you want it. It has your name all over it, in your favourite typeset. The smell of that book is irresistible and you bloody well know it.

William shook his head. You are one horrible person, Bert, but I’m going to buy this book from you.

-=-=-

In a world that no bookseller nor motorcycle gang member would believe true, a woman stood in front of a large mirror. She had no knowledge of people haggling over book nor of the motorised machines, as she was unreachably far away from them. She intently looked at the silvery glass, touching the necklace she wore. The mirror showed an image of a young woman with black hair and a fair skin, who was walking along a field covered with flowers.

Yuck, the woman spat. Look at that thing go. I'd forbid the existence of them, if I had a say in it. The young woman in the mirror seemed to sing as she picked flowers. I'll have you gasp for air once I get that apple to you, the woman said as she turned away from the mirror. Her long grey hair floated over her dark red robe, and her black dress rustled as she walked over to a table. She took up a wooden stick and an apple. With the stick pointing towards the apple, under her breath she mumbled a few phrases. And I hope I got it right this time, she ended her short monologue. Because I hate Latin. Then, apple and stick in hand, she turned to the mirror again and started to approach it, as she built up her concentration. The apple started pulsating, as if a light lived inside it that was fighting to get out. No, no, not yet, my little friend, the wicked witch (for that was who she was) said. Only a few minutes more, and then you can do what I’ve made you for. You will stick in that stupid monster's throat and make sure that she is not getting in my way again! A loud cackling laugh filled the room, its echoes making even the furniture shudder.

The witch pointed her wand at the mirror and started speaking a spell that was going to take her to the meadow where the innocent wench was dancing and trampling through the flowers. The incantation was gaining strength, the magical aura around the wicked witch formed exactly the way she wanted it to do, so it would project her to her victim.

-=-=-

In Bantrey's Bookstore, the two men shook hands on the sale, and then, as their habit was, they both slapped the tabletop, next to the book.

-=-=-

The wicked witch unleashed the built-up power from the wand. As it hit the mirror, the mirror exploded in a million tiny fragments! The power around the witch was disturbed by quantum-physical laws that she had no knowledge of, and she disappeared from her room, but instead of ending up with her apple in the meadow, she materialised somewhere entirely different...

-=-=-

In O'Malley's Bar, the piña coladas were the drink of the day. Skull and Bubba, together with their friends, were having a great time. The barkeeper sat tied up on a stool in the corner of his own