Cleo was
unbelievably frustrated. She had spent more than a year developing a serum that
would allow levitation in its subjects. All her research said that this should
work. Her test subjects, however, weren’t cooperating.
Her idea
was to use the serum and inject it under the skin of the subject. Her
calculations said that they should be able to lift off the ground and zoom
around at will. She couldn’t test it on humans yet, of course, but her animal
tests had all been complete failures.
Cleo sat
back in her chair and crossed her arms. Her colleagues had all laughed at her
for taking on this project, and she was going to lose her funding if she didn’t
produce results soon. She glared at the mouse inside its cage. It should be floating
right now, but it remained rooted to the floor of the cage, calmly eating.
All of her test
experiments had turned out the same. She really wanted to move on to human
testing, but she couldn’t without at least one successful animal test. She rubbed
her eyes, thinking. It was getting late, but she felt like she was so close.
It had always been a fanciful dream of hers to be able to push off the ground
and fly around. She had to keep moving forward.
Cleo
thought about how amazing it would be to fly around wherever you wanted to go.
It happened all the time in books and movies. Everyone knew stories about
witches flying around on broomsticks.
Cleo sat up
so fast that she bumped into her desk, hitting the funny bone in her elbow. She
rubbed it absentmindedly as she thought again about the idea that had just
popped into her head. What if instead of making living things fly, I tried
making inanimate objects fly, like broomsticks? She would have to modify
the serum, maybe turn it into a coat of paint or something, but this could
work.
Cleo bent
back over her desk, frantically making changes in her notes, then stepped over
to the lab to create the paint.
Half an
hour later, Cleo was back in her office with the paint and an old broom that
she had found in the janitor’s closet. Carefully, she painted the broom,
wearing plastic gloves to protect her hands. She made sure to cover each strand
of the broom’s brush. When she was done, the paint was gone, and Cleo waited
for the broom to completely dry.
Nearly
bursting with anticipation, Cleo removed her gloves and set them haphazardly on
her desk. She didn’t notice when they rose to the ceiling. She picked up the
broom, checking for any wet paint. Then she waited for something to happen.
When nothing did, she tossed the broom to the corner, feeling frustrated once
again. Maybe she should just go home and try again tomorrow.
To her
surprise, the broom didn’t clatter to the floor like she expected it to.
Turning to look at it, she saw that it was hovering in midair. Barely stopping
herself from jumping up and down for joy, she grabbed the broom once again. She
felt it vibrating under her hand.
Cleo
immediately wanted to try riding it. Straddling the broom, she slowly let her
weight fall on it. It still seemed to be levitating, so she lifted her feet and
felt a thrill when the broom held her weight.
It only lasted
a moment, however, because as soon as Cleo leaned forward slightly, she shot
toward the open window in front of her. Holding on for dear life with her heart
feeling as if it would beat out of her chest, she suddenly found herself
outside. Her office was three stories up, so the ground was a long way
down.
Cleo leaned
down to wrap her arms around the broom, and then she felt herself going even
faster. She tried leaning back a little, and the broom slowed down.
Feeling a little relieved, she tried getting the broom to turn around. She
found that all she needed to do was lean slightly to the left or the right, and
she would go in that direction.
Eventually,
she made it back to her office and through the window. She slowed down and
dismounted, feeling an immense satisfaction. She had done it! No longer would
flying witches on broomsticks be figments of someone’s imagination. She couldn’t
wait to tell everyone that it hadn’t been impossible. They wouldn’t be laughing
at her now.
Cleo
thought again of flying through the air with the night all around her and the wind
whipping through her hair. Yes, she would show everyone tomorrow, but right
now, she had to have that feeling again. Mounting the broom once more, she flew
out the window, and this time, she let out a whoop of pure joy. It may have
been more of a cackle, but Cleo thought it fit the night just right.
