Black Magic Woman

“We don’t take kindly to your people.”

Hypocrites. Fucking Luddites.

“We’re clean, God fearing folk.”

Clean? The Amish are fucking clean. At least they have the guts to go full haul: Saltsouls. I can smell your SUV from here.

“Look techo,” I rolled, “you hired us. So slag the preach and leave us the scramble.”

“Just get rid of her. And get out of my town.”

He ain’t fumbling anyone. Sure, he wants the witch slagged. And we need the jink. Worried his daughter might run off with the sexy magic man.

“Matt!” yelled Clara, “Gibbs chirped me.”

“Don’t forget our jink,” I slid to the Mayor, “Wouldn’t want a reason to come back.” Slip his girl a wink.

Gibbs spied right: I could feel the chopper’s roar as it rolled past us. Custom hog flashing sunlight, the rider in half leather: black as her skin. Hair flying wild: white as her teeth.

I threw a t-ball at the bike: a Tracker’s mainstay.

“You see her aura, Matt?” Clara asked as the enchanted blue marble bounced after the bike.

Felt it. Regroup,” I ordered.

Black Magic Woman was first published online for the now defunct ficlets, and is archived at the ficlets memorial.

© 2007 Jon Thysell. Some Rights Reserved.
Black Magic Woman by Jon Thysell is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.