From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by. Below … her minions … completely unaware of the inconveniences bypassed because of her presence and benevolent powers.
“Come, Trudy. If we don’t get there soon, there won’t be push-pops. Daddy wants one, too!” The desperation in Johnny’s voice caused Trudy to run and catch up with her little brother waiting at the corner crossing.
Hilda could hear the extreme anxiety in Johnny’s voice from her rocker on the balcony. She smiled.
Grabbing his hand, Trudy and Johnny crossed the intersection. Feet hitting the adjacent sidewalk, Johnny was off again skipping toward the ice cream vendor’s truck near the center of the park.
“They will never know,” thought Hilda. “One of my more opportune interventions.”
Just last winter, Johnny’s father had found his truck in full skid turning the corner there at the park. Turning a complete 360, he came to rest gently parked against the great oak at the park’s entrance. He could have sworn he was headed head-on into the tree.
“It was as if someone’s hand flipped the car just on impact,” he had told the officer.
Chuckling, Hilda went inside.
Written for Monday’s Finish That Story. Requirements: Using the Photo Prompt and the provided first sentence, create a 150 words story.