Winston was never good at the actual landing part. Unfortunately, the caravan was unable to do the landing by itself and required manual assistance and Winston was far from a professional pilot.
He sat in the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel tightly. Not much room for disaster if he doesn't manage to land safely, this time his dad wouldn't be able to fix it up.
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, running over the list of things he needed to remember for the actual landing part.
Wheels were out and ready to catch the caravan?
Check.
The speed of the caravan was slowing to 20 km/h?
Check.
Clear and open field visible for landing?
Check.
He was ready.
The ground neared and Winston's stomach churned as he pushed the steering wheel away from himself and flipped switches along with the dashboard violently. Just a couple more feet before...
Bang.
He bounced violently in his seat and thanked his past self for putting his seat belt on. He had touched ground.
The caravan continued sliding on the ground for another 100 meters before finally slowing to a stop.
It took a minute before Winston was able to unclench his muscles and let go of the steering wheel.
He had landed in a huge field of tall blue flowers. They swayed gently in the wind and seemed to sparkle in the sun.
"Probably enchanted" Winton grumbled to himself.
Wizards that specialized in farming often enchanted their plants to grow stronger and faster, but enchanted plants always gave off a glittery shine.
He unbuckled his seat belt and peered through the window intently.
Cuxar had only left him instructions to come to this island to see his friend, but he hadn't mentioned the friend's name or where exactly this person was to be found.
The blue flowers seemed to go on for miles. Huge white-tipped mountains could be seen in the skyline and they too seemed to shimmer slightly. At the base of the mountain sat a small cottage. There were two chimneys and the one on the left was puffing orange smoke while the one on the right puffed a purple color.
Winston sat on his hands for a moment thinking. Generally, wizards that lived by themselves on an island with huge mountains didn't like visitors and his uncle hadn't really specified how his friend would react to a stranger in their field of flowers.
He grabbed his wand as a precaution, a shiny almost brand new wooden stick and shoved it into his boot. He felt safer knowing it was there, not that he actually knew how to use it though.
He grabbed the note his uncle had left him and left the caravan through the side door.
Finally, outside of the caravan, he could see the damage he had left behind himself while trying to land. The dragging of the wheels of the caravan had left three parallel lines of dug up dirt and overturned flowers, completely wrecking what was once a beautiful field.
Not a very good first impression for whichever wizard he was about to meet.
Winston brought his hands together, moving his fingers methodically, trying to mimic what his father used to do while gardening. Nothing happened.
YOU ARE READING
Mountain of Memories
Художественная прозаWinston Burns wasn't a very interesting person. At least, as far as the rest of his family was concerned, he seemed to be the only one who didn't have any interests, nevermind an interest in using magic like the rest of them did. While his dad used...
