The Lost Broom

It was the perfect night for it. Dark heavy clouds were wrapped around the sky in a protective covering, so nobody looking up would be able to spot Nell gallivanting through the sky. She fidgeted impatiently on the musty, carpeted seat, resisting the urge to do something to help the bus along and speed up the tedious journey so she could get home.

Fast forwarding a moving vehicle full of passengers would certainly constitute irresponsible use of magic so she settled for tapping her fingers impatiently against the seam of her tired black trousers instead.

Eventually, the bus coughed to a halt at her stop, and she hurried off, welcoming the fresh evening air as it washed off the ickiness of her day on the short walk to her rather shabby but homey little house. She shed her daytime coat and handbag which allowed her to blend in with the crowds of inconspicuous human beings that she’d been obliged to blend in with for the past 6 months.

There was no sign of the cat, but her back door was slightly ajar, creaking open and closed with the breeze. This was hardly anything to worry about as the house was surrounded by anti-theft charms. Anybody but Nell would have to be invited in; the door was just another thing that needed fixed. Ignoring it, she flicked on the hallway light to retrieve her broomstick from the cupboard, feeling her stomach drop as she realised that this door was wide open, and her broomstick gone.

Cursing loudly, she slammed the cupboard door shut and searched each room in the house, despite knowing it was fruitless. Her broomstick was an older model – a Flit-109 to be precise. They were known for developing faults after a good couple of years. Hers had an unfortunate habit of drifting off on its own if it wasn’t confined to the cupboard or tied to the wall.

It didn’t take her long to search the entire little house for confirmation of what she already knew – that the darned thing had flown off out the door to goddess knows where.

She picked up the telephone and dialled Pat’s number. The terms of her probation forbid her from performing a locator spell and the kind of money she’d need to call a Magical Item Retrieval service would probably cost her two month’s rent.

“Soo… you haven’t spotted a lonesome broomstick floating your way, have you?” she asked as Pat picked up the phone.

“Bats, you’ve still not got that pathetic hunk of wood sorted out?” Pat asked, a half laugh bubbling up.

“Do you know how many high paying jobs there are that hire witches on probation? Bloody none. I can’t even get a gig chopping up potion ingredients. I’m having to mingle with the normal people. And use a computer,” Nell complained.

“Yeuch,” she heard Pat visibly shudder, “goddess that’s bad. Remind me not to pull stunts like stopping time and setting fire to a government building.”

“Oh ha ha.”

“You want me to do a locator spell? Pat asked.

“If you could. I don’t know how long the darned thing’s been on the loose.” If it was picked up by anyone official they’d easily be able to trace it back to her. The last thing she needed was another injunction against her, however minor.

“Hang tight,” Pat said before hanging up the phone. Nell followed suit, equally grateful and embarrassed. Actually if she was wishing for stuff, what she really wanted was to reverse time and go back to that night.

She’d been at the height of her power after studying with Kristintha Mandor. Finally able to really push the boundaries of the elements, it had all gone to her head – making her think that her job at the witching association was beneath her, that she should be spending her magic on more important things. She’d poured all her energy into figuring out how to control time; a long-held pipe dream that had consumed her.

When the moment came that she achieved it, she hadn’t accounted for the side effects. The heat that rippled through the still air, sparking into flames, spreading through the building, licking all its surfaces until the entire thing was filled with smoke and ash quicker than she could react. It was all she could do to run and get out of there before the fire claimed her too.


There was a pot of warm cider simmering on the stove when a knock sounded on her door, bringing her back to her present reality.
“Perfect timing!” she called out as she rushed to open the door. Pat stood on her porch holding her broomstick like a balloon on a string.

“I found it circling Mrs Avery’s cabbage patch,” Pat said, handing her the rope which was fastened around it. Nell had to really yank the thing, it had been loose for too long and now it didn’t want to come back inside.

“Oh goddess. Thanks Pat, I’ve got cider warming if you want one.” It was no use trying to ride the broomstick now when it was in a mood like this, it would just be petulant the whole time.

“Would I ever say no to such an invitation?” Pat rubbed her hands together as she followed Nell through to the kitchen, taking off her coat and sinking into a chair.

“You know, we’ve got an old spare. It’s not exactly state of the art, but it’s in good working order,” Pat said, taking a sip from the mug Nell had placed in front of her.

“Oh no, it’s fine. Despite its behaviour I am rather fond of this old thing,” she nodded towards the broomstick which was now tied to the leg of the table, trying to put on an air of nonchalance as she had to keep batting it away, stopping the thing from trying to knock over her cider.

Pat had that knowing smile on her face as she raked her eyes over it. “I just hate to see you struggling like this. A decent broom would at least get you out and about, and you’d be able to get to the flying socials.”

Nell sighed. The beauty of a broomstick was that she technically wasn’t using magic and it was an escape from the bitter reality of her daily existence. It made her feel like there was still a part of her old life that she could hold on to, and the moments spent soaring through the skies, the wind in her hair, let her forget about it all and just revel in the sheer glory of flying. There was nothing quite like it. 

“Anyway, I’d best be off,” Pat reached for her coat after they’d finished off their mugs of cider. “Gotta make sure these kids get to bed and all that.” Nell saw her out and felt a pang for everything she was missing, glad that there was still a significant amount of cider left to dip into.


The morning brought with it a grimy feeling and a headache to match, Nell having to drag herself out of bed and go through the motions of getting dressed and people-ready. She even made a coffee, proof that the regular human world was rubbing off on her, in the hope it would chase away the lingering aftereffects of the extra cider she’d indulged in.

She sipped the strange, bitter drink, adding a couple of sprinkles of honey and cinnamon to sweeten it, and checked off another day on the calendar that hung on her kitchen wall; reminding her of how many days she had left until she could appeal her probation.
103, you’ve made it through to another magic-less day, she silently congratulated herself.

After draining the rest of the coffee and scooping up her handbag, she double checked that the cupboard door was securely fastened. Last night she’d tied up the broomstick with an extra chain, making sure it couldn’t drift off anywhere. Tonight was going to be another cloudy one and she was determined to get out and make the most of it this time.

Satisfied that her broom wasn’t about to escape, she stepped out to greet the morning and walk up the lane to go and catch the bus as usual. Something caught her eye, and she paused on the steps, taking in the sight of the Fallen 520 broomstick that was leaning against her porch, a big red ribbon tied to it. Tears stung her eyes as she took it in and read the card attached:

Nell, I know darned well that you’re too stubborn to accept help so just take this thing off my hands will you? It’s taking up room for a perfectly good lamp and looks all wrong against my tapestry.
-Pat

She gently picked up the state-of-the-art broom, running her hands across the smooth surface of the handle. An old spare my hat, she smiled, shaking her head fondly at her old friend’s generosity.