Witches’ Knickers by Ghillain Potts
A plastic bag blew along the street and up into a tree.
“Hey, witches’ knickers!” said Freddie
“What? Where?” said Megan.
“There! In the tree. Look!”
Megan looked up. In the top of the tree was an orange plastic bag. The wind tugged at it.
“That’s not knickers!” Megan told him. “That’s a bag. From the supermarket.”
“No, it’s some witch’s knickers. See, they swoop down on their broomsticks and they don’t see the tree in the dark till the last minute and the tree grabs their knickers as they swoosh past and – no knickers!”
Hamid came along. “What’re you looking at?” he asked.
“Witches’ knickers,” said Freddie, pointing.
“Oh, right.” Hamid nodded.
The bag fought the tree. The wind pulled. The bag puffed up.
Megan sniffed. “So why would a witch be wearing a plastic bag for knickers, anyway?”
“Ah!” said Freddie. “Plastic bags are windproof, OK? And when the witch flies around on her broomstick, it’s windy, OK? And the wind is cold. So to stop the wind making her bum cold, she pulls a bag on over her real knickers!”
“Freddie,” said Hamid. “Nobody could wear a plastic bag. Where would you put your legs?”
“Umm. Through the handles?” Freddie grinned.
“Don’t be daft.” Megan told him. “That wouldn’t work.”
“Yes it would! Witches have awfully thin legs.” Said Freddie.
“Rubbish!” Megan sniffed. “What you would have to do is cut the two bottom corners off and put your legs through the holes. Then you could put some string through the handles and tie it around your waist.”
Freddie shrugged. “OK, so that’s what they do.”
The bag filled with the wind and jerked at the tree.
“I bet the witch’s come back and she’s tugging it.” Said Freddie.
The bag pulled free and whirled up and up.
“It’s escaped!” shouted Hamid. “Go, bag, go!”
“And it wasn’t a witch’s knickers.” Said Megan. “because there weren’t any holes in the bottom. So there!”
That night, Megan put on her black robe and her black cloak and tied her pointy black hat tightly under her chin.
Then she put on her orange plastic-bag knickers, got on her broomstick and flew out of the window.
A plastic bag blew along the street and up into a tree.
“Hey, witches’ knickers!” said Freddie
“What? Where?” said Megan.
“There! In the tree. Look!”
Megan looked up. In the top of the tree was an orange plastic bag. The wind tugged at it.
“That’s not knickers!” Megan told him. “That’s a bag. From the supermarket.”
“No, it’s some witch’s knickers. See, they swoop down on their broomsticks and they don’t see the tree in the dark till the last minute and the tree grabs their knickers as they swoosh past and – no knickers!”
Hamid came along. “What’re you looking at?” he asked.
“Witches’ knickers,” said Freddie, pointing.
“Oh, right.” Hamid nodded.
The bag fought the tree. The wind pulled. The bag puffed up.
Megan sniffed. “So why would a witch be wearing a plastic bag for knickers, anyway?”
“Ah!” said Freddie. “Plastic bags are windproof, OK? And when the witch flies around on her broomstick, it’s windy, OK? And the wind is cold. So to stop the wind making her bum cold, she pulls a bag on over her real knickers!”
“Freddie,” said Hamid. “Nobody could wear a plastic bag. Where would you put your legs?”
“Umm. Through the handles?” Freddie grinned.
“Don’t be daft.” Megan told him. “That wouldn’t work.”
“Yes it would! Witches have awfully thin legs.” Said Freddie.
“Rubbish!” Megan sniffed. “What you would have to do is cut the two bottom corners off and put your legs through the holes. Then you could put some string through the handles and tie it around your waist.”
Freddie shrugged. “OK, so that’s what they do.”
The bag filled with the wind and jerked at the tree.
“I bet the witch’s come back and she’s tugging it.” Said Freddie.
The bag pulled free and whirled up and up.
“It’s escaped!” shouted Hamid. “Go, bag, go!”
“And it wasn’t a witch’s knickers.” Said Megan. “because there weren’t any holes in the bottom. So there!”
That night, Megan put on her black robe and her black cloak and tied her pointy black hat tightly under her chin.
Then she put on her orange plastic-bag knickers, got on her broomstick and flew out of the window.
I found this book in Waterstones bookshop, reduced because the cover was damaged. Most of the stories (all written in 366 words) are either good, bad or ok. But this particular story really took my attention. I would love that every carrier bag floating around was a pair of witches' knickers and when I see one now I always say 'witches knickers' to myself. I know it is a very different image from American Beauty where he video a bag floating around his yard but it makes me smile. This is definately the sort of short story, and particularly children short story that I would like to be able to write. It just made me smile and I hope it makes you smile too. And hope the author Ghillain Potts doesn't mind me blogging it here.
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