Mental Diversion - Short Story For You! "Wildaluna, the Drunk Flying Witch: Chapter 1"

This is a witch:

This is a bottle of booze:

This is a witch with a bottle of booze:

This is an accident scene orchestrated by me at Kindra's desk:

This is how this weird scenario played itself out in my warped mind:

Now here's the backdrop:

This is one of those weird detours that my brain tends to take, especially when I’m under a lot of pressure and I need a mental health break, so to speak.  This story isn’t going to make any sense but then, it’s not supposed to.  This idea to write it came from a couple of co-workers, Kindra Sheffield and Pam Moore.  Kindra has these little cute toys on her desk; a tractor trailer, a foamy car, a flip flop, a witch and a bottle of booze.  As we talked about it and stacked the crime scene to make the accident, the storyboard formulated in my mind.  Sometimes ideas come from the strangest things. 

So here we are, a mental break that my crazy ghetto muse “Sistagurl” has decided to take, leaving the creative muse, “Bunny” to work on Kurai Utopia and do query letters while I wait to see if my short fantasy story that I wrote for "Kingdom of Fantasy Magazine" will be accepted. Cross your fingers!

Let me say I do not condone alcoholism nor am I making fun of it.  I don’t drink at all but this is a piece of fluffy nonsense so do me a favor and try to enjoy it or move on to the next blog.  Your indignation is noted in advance.  I'm on the fence right now as to whether or not I'll redeem her but we'll see how my mind work it out.

Here is the first chapter in what I hope to be a six, maybe seven part series.  I hope you enjoy it!

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Wildaluna, The Drunk Flying Witch

Chapter 1

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There was something about the open road that was relaxing to Wildaluna.   She didn’t know if it was the fresh air or the freedom in not having to answer to anyone, she really couldn’t say.  After many years of working around people she didn’t like or working jobs that seemed to slowly sap the life from her, she was finally doing something that she liked.

“Liked” was almost subjective.  She needed to make a change and for some reason, the appeal of this job was the first thing that popped into her mind.  She had never done an impulsive thing in her entire thirty-five years but it seemed like a good idea at the time.  She decided six months into it that this had been a good change, with the exception of truck stops; that often presented itself with a whole different set of obvious problems. 

Being out here was lonely but no lonelier than her previous life in Beiver Busch.  She had no friends, no boyfriend, no pets, and no worries. Except the voices on the radio and the CB, there was nothing but silence for miles on end but she was fine with it.  It was good to be the Queen of the Open Road.  She thought about getting a dog, a cat or a ferret or something.  She looked over at the potted weeds that used to be a lucky bamboo plant.  For crying out loud, that damn thing was the easiest plant to take care of.  All she had to do was water it once a week.  Actually, she hadn’t watered it since she became a truck driver – six months ago.

Poor little plant never had a chance.

Oh well, she reasoned.  Maybe a four-legged critter wasn’t such a good idea.  She hadn’t even bothered to throw the plant out; the idea of riding with a dead carcass for months on end somehow didn’t really appeal to her.

Her life had never been easy, especially after such a difficult upbringing.  She was the only child of William and Luna Lee Beverly in the picturesque wilderness of Beiver Busch, Montana.  It was a beautiful town full of trees and rocks and more rocks.  Her father wanted a son to carry on the family business and their store, “Beiver Got Dam,” sold the latest in survival gear for the consummate loner but when she was born, he was furious, wanting to give her up for adoption.  Her mother was thrilled, however, being the only female in her family that included seven brothers.  After arguing over what to name her, they settled on a combination of his first name, her mother’s name “Daisy” and her name. 

Wildaluna shuddered.  It was bad enough to have a last name that was the first name for most of the 90% of people on the planet but to stick her with such a god-awful name meant years of bullying from the time she started school until junior high, when she grew seven inches, joined the wrestling team and became known as “Lunatic.”  With her record of 23-0, at least Lunatic was a kickass nickname and it was at least more tolerable than “Wildaluna.”

Pretty wasn’t a word that anyone would have used to describe her.  A boy in gym class once called her “the prettier side of ugly.” She glanced at herself in the mirror that was taped to the dashboard.  Well, it had been better than being called “fugly” or “dead dog ugly” but she did punch him in the face for good measure.  She just can’t let anybody say whatever they wanted to her.   She imagined that with a little make up, a new hairdo and girly clothing, she could at least pass for homely. 

She shrugged her shoulders and continued onward along Route 832, also known as “Dead Buzzard Highway” just fifty miles outside of Flatt Butte, Wyoming.  It was a stupid name for a road.  In the entire time she had lived in the southwest, she had never seen anything other than dead opossum, the occasional prairie dog or a dead crow.  Once she saw a bear but wasn’t really convinced that it was dead, not that she would get out and see for herself.

Normally her cargo involved lumber, barrels filled with anything but HAZMAT or something that gave her truck some weight but this time she was carrying several dozen pallets of those bouncy play houses.  It was pretty unusual in that, well, how many children where in Flatt Butte, or the entire state of Wyoming for that matter?  Heck, where there that many children in this part of the Southwest?   She hunched her shoulders; it wasn’t her business to even care.  She was charged with delivering her payload, get paid and as long as she wasn’t hauling bodies or some other shit like that, life was good in her neck of the woods.

After about two hours, she made a slight left turn at a fork in the road that would take her directly on to Flatt Butte within the next half hour or so.  As she turned, she noticed a little blue two-door hybrid something or other in front of her but what bothered her more than anything, she saw that he had a smart phone and was either texting or watching something.

“What a dumbass,” she mumbled, slowing down to keep her distance.  If she had to break suddenly, she would crush the little poot-farting tin can and everything inside of it.  She had to get at least a football’s length away from him so she throttled back even slower until he was far on the horizon.  Happy with her progress, she continued onward, listening to the smooth sounds of the country music of the olden days. 

Looking up, she could almost see the peaks of the rock formation at the turn up ahead that would take her into Flatt Butte when something in the air caught her attention.  She squinted in the dusk of the landscape.  It looked huge, black and appeared to be flying in a zigzag pattern.

“That’s odd,” she murmured as she continued onward.  She tried to focus on the road but the thing looked like it was getting bigger and from the weird angle, it looked like a witch.  She frowned, thinking that the heat must be baking her brain or something, or she needed to pull over to a long overdue rest stop. 

She looked up at it again, holding her hands up to provide some kind of level.  It was the strangest thing, looking like a witch with a black hat, a black dress and flying on a broom.  She began to tap her brake, intent on pulling over once she made it around the bend. These runs were usually uneventful and this was throwing her off.  Her mother used to tell her that shit like this meant something; that it was an omen or something but she usually dismissed her; the crazy old bat.  She didn’t have a clue as to what she was going on but this was one of those things she had to check out. 

As she made it around the bend, she realized that the little blue hybrid was back in her view.  In fact, it was almost really close to her; perhaps three 18-wheelers’ length.  He was still watching something on his phone that looked like one of those hood fighting shows.  If she could make out what was on his screen, then this was too close for comfort and with a puss bucket like this dude, she couldn’t take any chances. 

Just as she applied her brake, the car suddenly jackknifed and began to roll.  Horrified, Wildaluna hit her brakes as hard as she could, trying to swerve out of the way but something black flew in front of her, startling her.  She screamed but kept her presence of mind to keep applying the brakes with all of the strength in her body, praying that she wouldn’t end up crushing this little tin can now coming to a stop on the black top.  Just as she slowed down, however, the front of her wheels hit the car, climbing up on top and pushing it about fifty feet. 

Wildaluna screamed, her heart beating wildly as they all came to a stop.  Her legs felt cold as ice as she gripped the steering wheel, her mind totally blanked.  It was if a bright light was shining in front of her and she had that weird deer-in-the-headlights thing going.  She closed her eyes, took several deep breaths before unbuckling her seatbelt and trembling, exiting the cab and running to the scene to help the poor guy.

As she rounded the crushed car, however, she was greeted with the strangest thing she had ever seen.  The car was on its roof and the drive was…

…uh, the driver.  The driver was dead of course but he looked like he was wearing a green costume.  Wildaluna scrunched up her nose and took a closer look and then recoiled.  The body wasn’t wearing a green costume, it was a green skeleton.

Horrified, she fell backwards and scrambled for leverage.  “What the hell is going on?” she screamed.  “Is this some kind of a sick twisted joke?”

“Hello, Wildaluna!” a voice called out to her next to her. 

Wildaluna turned and gasped.  A crow was perched on the ground next to her, preening its feathers. 

She looked around.  “Who said that?”

“I did,” the crow said. 

“Did…you just…speak?” she asked in a high pitched voice and then put her hand over her mouth.  Weird – she didn’t even think her voice could go to that octave.

  

The crow cawed, preening its feathers.  “I just said I did, dammit!  Are you slow or something? The name’s Pendleton and I’ve been assigned to be your familiar.”

Wildaluna’s knees nearly buckled.  This is the part where she should be running away but her legs wouldn’t move.  “My what?” she finally said.  “Is this some kind of a joke?”

“I’m your familiar,” he said, flying over and landing on her shoulder.  “You do know that you’re a witch, right?”

Wildaluna froze.  A what?  Witch?  Did that thing just say witch?  “Uh, no I’m a truck driver. What do you mean I’m a witch and why am I having a conversation with a crow?  Did I hit my head or something?  I’m not a witch!”

Pendleton flexed his wings.  “Yes you are and you’re having a conversation with me because I’m speaking to you.  Don’t you understand?  This was all ordained.  You were meant to be at this spot at this time on this day.  This means something.”

“Yeah, it means that I must be in a truck stop restaurant having tuna surprise,” Wildaluna said, standing up.  She walked back over to the ‘body’ and poked it apprehensively with her boot.  Sure enough, it was a green jellied toy skeleton.

“If you were having the tuna surprise, you’d be in the hospital right now,” Pendleton replied.  “Come on, Wildaluna; bend your mind to this.  You’ll have fun with it.”

Looking over at her shoulder and her mind clearing, she smacked the crow off her shoulder.  “You know, I thought I saw a witch a few minutes ago and now here I am talking to a crow who’s telling me that I’m a witch.  To hell with this – I’m going to see a doctor and then I’m going back to Beiver Busch to work in my father’s survival shop.  That kind of batshit crazy I know!”

She started to turn and go back to her truck but then noticed a white and blue flip flop sitting on the skeleton’s head.  Picking it up, she turned it over, noticing “Everlasting Wisteria, Hooch Springs New Mexico” on the bottom.

“That’s where you’re supposed to go,” Pendleton said, landing back on her shoulder.

  

“What?” Wildaluna said.  “New freaking Mexico? Are you kidding?”

Pendleton cawed.  “That’s where your coven is and they await you.”

“Coven?” Wildaluna replied.  “What the heck is a coven?”

“That’s where your sister witches live,” Pendleton replied.  “They’ll help you train and protect you.”

Wildaluna shook her head.  “I’m having the most fucked up dream of my life.”

“So,” Pendleton said smugly.  “If you’re dreaming, why don’t you play it out?  Go to Hooch Springs.  I mean seriously – your life stinks.  What could it hurt?”

Wildaluna arched her eyebrow.  If this was a dream, then she would wake up in a hospital room screaming from the effects of green truck stop tuna, but if she wasn’t dreaming, then what?  What would she find when she went to…Hooch Springs?? What kind of messed up crap hole did this place have to be to get this name?  Then she thought about it; her name was pretty messed up so who was she to criticize? 

There was this really weird mental break playing itself out in her head.  On the one hand, maybe she should just lie down in the cab until she woke up.

On the other hand, the weird talking crow was right.  Her life sucked and this might be really happening to her.  Nothing exciting ever happened to her.  She looked toward Flatt Butte, and then toward the south.  This could prove interesting.

“Come on, Wildaluna,” Pendleton said, cutting into her thoughts.  “Have you ever gone on an adventure or even wanted to?  Here’s your chance!  Learn about your true heritage.  We could have lots of fun with this!”

She had to admit that the idea was appealing.  “What about the accident?”

Pendleton cawed.  Wildaluna guessed that was his version of laughing; the little sick fuck.  “What accident?”

Wildaluna looked back toward the accident and took a step back, her eyes growing as wide as saucers.  The hybrid and the skeleton were gone.  Her truck, which had been on top of the car, was now sitting back on the road as though nothing had happened.  All that was left was the flip flop in her hand. 

A talking crow, a flip flop and witchcraft.  This was too weird for her not to do.

“Okay,” she finally said.  “Lead the way.”

Pendleton flew off her shoulder and into the open truck door.  “Well let’s get going, honey!”

Wildaluna took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and got back into the truck.  She made a complete U-turn and headed back down the road until she saw the fork in the road that headed south.  This was going to prove to be interesting or maniacal.

Either way, she was going to have the time of her life.

“Seriously Wildy, what’s with the dead plant?”

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Next up:  “Wildaluna the Drunk Flying Witch Chapter 2:  On the Road to Hooch Springs with a Talking Crow”

I’m going to try to update this weekly but in the middle of writing my stories and real life, we’ll see.  This may be a six part series to play itself out over the upcoming months.  After I finish it, I’ll put it together as a small short story series on Smashwords.  I'll fix any errors later.  This blog started acting up with error save messages.