Flying Broomsticks Novels & Stories

He was about to pound on Orora again when the witch carried her and flew her away, using her broomstick. The fight was chaos, but the werewolves were winning. When they saw that their leader was gone and her broomstick was left on the ground, they all fled, screaming in sharp voices. The werewolves lifted their heads and growled menacingly while they watched the witches fly away to the sky and disappear in the fog that Orora created.

Once our visions became clear to see the dark, we saw the thing that was dragging him. It was a leafless tree, smaller than the common ones here. However, its branches were alive, hundreds of them; vine-like, slithering, coiling on its own like snakes. I didn’t know what that thing was, but Brock was definitely in danger. I was about to leap to save him when dozens of them were coming at us. Plucking a thick branch off from a nearby tree to fashion myself a club, I swatted the vines away before any of them could touch us both.

both Gerey and Cwena said at the same time, sounding like preteens who couldn't wait for the Ferris Wheel they'd anticipated all year to swing into action now that it was Christmas. Sir Oswic pushed his legs forward, leaned his back into Cwena who was like toast between him and Gerey, then tilted the broom forward - Gerey had to hold on tighter than ever to avoid falling off. Like a rocket about to take off, the broom vibrated for a few seconds then the bushy end pushed up the entire broom against gravity, causing a great deal of chill, frigid wind to besmear their faces and make breathing a little bit more difficult as the broom zoomed at a demented, raving, frenzied and insane velocity tow

I was terrified I was going to fall off and break my neck. “The first rule of broomstick riding is never let the broom drive itself. Much like a horse, you must be the one in charge. Is that understood?” Professor Howl said, staring at each and every one of us while clutching his own broom. I looked at the wooden stick in my hands and frowned; it was strange to compare this to a horse. A horse was a living and breathing thing, a broom was not… or at least I didn’t think it was.

As the lump of swantles swings its massive arms, it shakes the pathway, causing some stone and even sand to fall. "Wait, sand?" I look again and see some sand raining down from above us. "Keep them right there," I shout, raising both my crossbows and firing as many bolts as I can into the ceiling. The bolts stick to the ceiling, in between the cracks in the stones. Some stones actually coming out, I look toward the flaming sword. "Quickly," I say, hitting the boy on his shoulder. "Stab the stone that is falling out! Stab it and push it out!"

Then she retrieved twin broomsticks from where they stood beside a smoke-grained wall cupboard—handworked besoms with thick gnarled handles and sprigs of baby’s breath and amaranthus tied on with blue and white bindings. . . . And away we go, thought Richard dizzily when he saw them. Holding her two garnished brooms out together, the witch said, “Thomas, be so good as to prop these against the front door for me, will you? Handles crossed into an X.” He stood and took one, but before he could grab the other he witnessed Beulah sliding her hands over it now, moving arthritic, spice-powdered fingers up and down the crooked shaft in a suggestive manner. She grinned toothlessly at him.

I need answers. "Huh? What broom?" She asked me again but in confusion. "You know, the one that you ride on in the air to fly?" I asked with hand gestures and acted like a witch riding a broom. That's what I knew about witches. They also make potions in a big pot. And they have voodoo dolls, or whatever creepy thing that is that they use to hurt or control other people. Witches are scary as fudge creatures, that’s for sure. They put you into spells or curse you to death without even touching you. Damn, I could feel goosebumps all over my body now.

“Okay. Maybe it can be here. ” "Ha?" Is Brylle hungry and what are you talking about? Then all of a sudden, he pulled out his wand and he voiced out an incantation pointing at the balloons. “Hide us in the night, grant this in a spark. Fly us like we’re light, mark it in the dark. ” What is that for? “Oh come on! Hold on to the balloons too! This is the coolest ride I refer to ever! ” “What? Are you sure? Is that safe? And also with our weight, how can the …s carry us? ”I could not believe it yet but little by little Brylle floated up. Uwaah !!! How did that happen?

He jumps, gripping them off their brooms. While I punch and kick my way through the crowd, still aware of Annabellas everymove, she and Daisy are doing so well. My father is pushing through and I know better than to stop him as his wish was to fight to the death. A swoosh sound is heard above us again and I look uo to see Ivy on her broom flying above us, she is looking on in delight. A loud laugh drew out from her throat before she began chanting, little black shadows submerged from beneath us grabbing some by the feet and others by the hands dragging them off into the forest.

The time known as the witching hour. The magic broom refused to land on the patio. It flew around crookedly. "What's the matter with you, Broom!" Olga was forced to jump. "Aeiii!" she squealed when her shoes started to burn. Putrid smoke appeared on the soles of her feet. She jumped on the bushes that surrounded the house. The bushes disintegrated themselves into black crows. They cawed and squawked indignantly. They pecked at her and her broom ruthlessly.