Saturday's Storyteller: "Pretty sure the guy who lives under the overpass is a wizard."

by Belinda Roddie

"Pretty sure the guy who lives under the overpass is a wizard."

"What? How can you be 'pretty' sure?"

Mid-chew, Mel jerked a thumb where a spray of sparks could be seen hurtling from beside the overpass. I strained to look at the writhing ribbons of color and shook my head as my friend took another bite of her to-go calzone.

"That could be anything," I remarked. "Could be cheap fireworks. Could be a flare."

"Oh, really? Tell me, do most flares you see turn into fire dragons in the sky?"

I gazed at Mel skeptically. "I didn't see that."

"No, but I did," said Mel, her teeth stained with tomato sauce. "It was fucking epic. And definitely not something you can get from pyrotechnics."

We neared the overpass with obvious caution, my fingers drumming against my thigh as I walked. Mel had always been somewhat of a fantasy junkie - reading books about elves, dressing up as a Hobbit for Halloween on more than one occasion, sorting herself into different Hogwarts houses whenever she was in a different mood - but this was ridiculous even for her. She enjoyed the magical lore, but I never picked her as someone who would actually believe her. Now, as we got ever closer to whoever was shooting out sparks, I vaguely wished we had brought along some of her collectible swords, most of which were battle-ready and consequently quite sharp.

I saw no wizard when we crossed the abandoned railroad going under the overpass, but instead a ragged middle-aged woman smoking a cigarette, a floppy hat covering most of her curls. Clearly a homeless person, and nothing more. But as I took another step, I thought I saw a surprisingly harsh green glint in her eye.

"Evenin', gals!" she crooned. "Got any calzone for me?"

Mel looked at the half-eaten food in her hand, then at me, then at the woman. She shrugged. "Sure, it's yours, if you want."

The woman accepted the measly treat with glee, devouring it in two large bites. Then she gestured for us to stand beside her. "Gorgeous, isn't it? The gods are happy with us tonight."

"Is that why there are lights in the sky?" I asked, trying to entertain both the bum and Mel, who was looking on with an eerie intrigue.

"What? Oh, no, that's me." The woman sneered. "Your friend did tell you I was a wizard, right?"

"Nailed it!" Mel barked, pumping her fist in the air.

I stared and said a stupid thing in response. "Wouldn't that make you a witch?"

A sudden flurry of green light washed over me, and for a moment, I was terrified that she had shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" The woman did seem miffed once the glow subsided, though.

"I don't go by your silly binary definitions," she scowled. "Besides, wizard sounds cooler." She then looked at Mel. "I'll turn that rock into a unicorn if you get me another calzone."

"Done," we both said simultaneously.

This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.