When Pigs Fly...

The day was rainy and cold as if the weather knew of Helena’s mother’s death. She had gotten 22 years with her, before something unnatural killed her. Helena knew that if she had a purpose, it was to figure out who—or what—killed her mother.

A strike of lightning broke her concentration, forcing her to look up from the fresh mud on her grave. Helena laid down her bouquet of lavender, making sure to spell it immortal. She turned around, slowly making her way back to her childhood home. Suddenly, she was on the ground, tasting blood and dirt as she didn’t have time to brace herself. Helena glanced over to what had tripped her and spotted a small black notebook, half-buried in the mud. She knew no one was around, but checked anyway, just in case. Her eyes bounced around, before landing on the grave that had sprouted the notebook.

Here Lies Reagan Flitwhick

A Wizard and Mother of the Highest Caliber, survived by a loving wife and daughter

2021-2066

Helena took a sharp breath, before reaching down and grabbing hold of the notebook. It first held resistance, refusing to free itself of the muck it was covered in. She tugged harder, and as it came free, Helena was pushed backward, her hand still firmly on the book. Her body ached as she began to get up, having been thrown to the ground twice in quick succession, and slowly wipes the dirt off her black jumpsuit. She continued her way to her home, making sure to avoid any obstacles that would cause her to fall again.

The home, painted bright pink, welcomed Helena into it with open arms. She felt immediately at rest, knowing that whatever is going to happen, she is protected. Helena was no stranger to patience, so as she cleaned the dirt and mud off her, the mysterious notebook sat on the bathroom counter.

Helena wrapped herself into her mom’s favorite blanket and picked up the book. As she began to read, she realized it was a diary of some sort.

…Today, Ryann was able to levitate three stuffed animals at the same time. I am so very proud of her; she is quite a fast learner just like her mama. Sarah and I wanted to enroll her in preschool today, but the mages in charge would not accept a lesbian couple. We were sourly disappointed, especially as this is the only magic preschool in our area. Sarah wants to sue, but I want to talk to the head of the school district…

Helena couldn’t stop herself from reading, once she got started, learning everything she could about this family. By the time Helena got to the last passage, it read differently.

…Today is Ryann’s birthday, she is turning 18. I won’t be able to be around very often, as my ailment is quickly overtaking me. My darling Sarah wanted to go to the park and visit our favorite pizza place, but my legs had already started to solidify into stone. Today is my last day, so as I am writing this notebook, I want to leave my last message to my family. My darling girls, how much I love you, how much I glow with pride as you continue to impress me. One day, when pigs fly, I will break this stone curse, and return to you…

Her eyes filled with tears as she read the final few sentences, deeply invested in the lives of these ladies. Helena related to the daughter, Ryann, as they had both lost their mothers young, and as she remembered the death of her mom, she remembered the locket she wore. But before she closed the book, she noticed a light scrawl on the bottom of the page, in a messier version of the handwriting above it.

…Find her. Please. Hinderlock Forest. Find my daughter…

The name was familiar, and it sparked the fire in Helena, maybe this woman, Reagan, has given this quest to find Ryann. She knew what she had to do, and as she began to collect items and clothes she set off.

Months passed, but Helena stayed on this path. It had brought her to a tiny hamlet, where a woman witch who healed the werewolf that had been cut by a silver sword. She lived in the forest, far away from anyone, and as Helena questioned the few townsfolk present, she gradually narrowed down the information. A witch, named Flitwhick, was a prominent potion maker and healer in the area and was apprentice less. Her heart began to beat faster, both in excitement and nerves, as she knew what she had to do.

Helena took a deep breath stepping closer to the ivy-covered hut, jumpy sparks flying from her fingertips. Her sharp pinstripe suit was in direct contrast to the dark and grimly lit forest. She knocked three times on the heavy wood door—in response, she heard a loud crash and then a lot of scuttling and cursing growing nearer to her.

“What do you want?” The disheveled old woman had on a gray smock, covered in ash and burn marks, and her goggles were pulled up into her hair. She wore no jewelry, other than an emerald ring tied around her neck in rope. And as Helena took it in, she reached up to tug on her own necklace, a bronze locket, the one from her mother.

“Yes, hello, my name is Helena, and I am here for an interview. I would love to be your apprentice.” she stuck her hand out in greeting.

“Ahem… you want to interview? To become my apprentice?” The witch stared dumbfounded before shrugging and letting her into the house. More akin to a laboratory than a living space, bottles and Bunsen burners covering every inch of the shelves that lined the cottage’s walls. The witch led Helena into the back, expertly skirting around the crates of various trinkets and books, stopping at an area with an agglomeration of mismatched chairs. She gestured for her to sit and removed her goggles from the top of her head before sitting down herself.

Helena crossed her legs and brought out a bright yellow folder, stuffed to the brim with papers, “So, shall we start? I have a list of references, some from university professors, some from mages.” The witch raised her eyebrows and reached down into one of the crates and pulled out a single piece of very old paper and squinted at the small writing. She pulled out a very small monocle and placed it on her left eye.

“Okay, let’s see, dear. I guess I’ll take that list. I haven’t had anyone apprentice for me in a long time, so excuse me if I’m a little rusty at this. My first question is, when was your first magic experience?”

“I believe it was when I was three or four. I had just turned one of my favorite stuffed animals into a real rabbit. My mom was not happy to see that another creature had cropped up at our house, but before then I was always running around and tracking fairy dust all over.”

“Hmmm, I see. What was your magic specification in university?”

“I began school with the intent to become a mage, but quickly learned that my love was for potions and general practicing.”

“If you could change anything in the world, what would it be?”

“I know the answer should be world peace or solving world hunger, but I have an insatiable urge to brew a potion so strong it can manipulate the probabilities of any event.”

“Interesting, interesting, I have never heard that one. What are some things that you think you could use to make that?”

“I thought that using a four or five-leaf clover and some galangal, but I haven’t had any laboratory spaces to test it.”

“What an interesting idea! I think we could try a few combinations of coriander and rose petals as well—I’m sorry—I got carried away, anyway, what made you want to become my apprentice?”

“No, no, please, I would love your opinion on the ingredients in it,” She responded, “I wanted to become your apprentice ever since I saw your work a few years ago when you healed the werewolf that had been cut by a silver sword.” Helena lied, making sure the notebook was still tucked in the waistband of her slacks.

“I was in awe of your ability, so ever since I graduated, I knew I would make my way to your cottage.”

“Well, I think you are an interesting candidate, my only real candidate, so in truth, you have the job if you want it. My last question regards your work ethic. How would you describe it in three words?”

“I’m dedicated, reliable, and curious.”

“Hmm, I don’t doubt that you would make an interesting addition here, and I have been in need of some help, so I’ll say if you want the job it’s”—BANG! The large noise started both Helena and the witch as something rammed itself into the house. Helena’s sparked fingers reacted, a fire starting in her palm. The witch glanced over surprised before curling her wrinkly hand over Helena’s shaking, burning ones. She held a gnarled finger to her lips.

“Shhh, my dear, this happens quite a bit. Something magical must have backfired, the failed creations tend to sniff out the magic here.” The witch whispered. Helena nodded and began trying to calm down the fire that is emitting from her hands. The loud noise repeated itself, from all sides of the cottage, emitting a high-pitched squeal each time, as if a 300-pound dog toy was mutilated and thrown against a house until the final “Wham” that hit the window. Shattered glass and wood flew inward, along with a flying pig, one with rotten blue flesh and bloody bat wings, was squealing in agony.

“Oh, it looks like someone tried to make pigs fly again,” the witch shook her head in disbelief, “I believe Todd has been trying and failing to do this for the past few years.” She quickly grabbed a burgundy vial, froth on the side of the glass. As the witch poured the liquid into her palm and recited some words in Latin, the grotesque flying pig turned to red ash and fell to the ground.

“Now, where were we?—ah yes, you may have the job if you want it. It will be hard, but rewarding. Oh—and you may call me Ryann.” The witch said, wiping her palm on her dirty apron.

Helena took a deep breath and fiddled with her locket. “Yes, Ms. Ryann. I want to do this,” She replied, looking out to where the pig had turned to ash, feeling the warm leather of the notebook against her skin, “Let’s get started.”