Mist and Magic

Chapter 1: Apples and Oranges

How should I have known I had magic? No letter, no warning, no "Hey, just a heads up you have magic powers" just one single mother yelling 

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE" at the top of her lungs as she slams the door on her only child sitting on the curb with an old tote bag filled up halfway with apples and oranges. Jeez Magic, could've taken me out to dinner first.

So yeah, that only child is me, Tasha Stuart and that single mother is a senile lady who popped me out of her exactly 13 years ago. I may sound rude but my mom absolutely hates me for unexplained reasons; I only exist because the one thing on my dad's will was to take care of their only child. Well, my mom's literally been going crazy ever since dad died ten years ago. He was the best dad in the world from the tiny fragments I can remember and all the photos plastered around our house.

 It figured that the last straw was me exploding her favourite china with my mind. This was not necessarily my fault but I mean I can't blame her. She was yelling at me, God knows why, and I got mad, my cheeks turned red and all I could hear was a constant ringing and the sound of shattered plates. Next thing I knew I was sitting outside of our house with a bag filled with assorted fruits.

At this point I know I'm not going to be allowed back in. I wouldn't be surprised if shes already piled all of the furniture against all the doors so I can't break back in. I would totally blow up some door or something except I have no clue how I did it the first time, so I start to walk.

Lucky for me, it's the middle of summer holidays so all my friends are on vacation and it's supposed to be one of the hottest days this year.  I trudge slowly down the familiar streets near my home that's no longer my home and I have no clue where to go. I could totally call the police on my mom but I don't want to go to some foster home and I certainly don't want to go back to her home again.

After walking for around another half an hour and getting seemingly nowhere (did I mention that we live 10 miles out of town because we can't afford anything closer), my stomach grumbles. I  have no food except the fruit that was in the bag mom threw at me and after a proper counting, there are exactly five apples and seven oranges. The problem is, those are my two least favourite fruits. Don't ask me why because I have no clue why, but  I hate them, and my mom knows that so I'm honestly not surprised.

Fast forward another half an hour, I'm thirsty and starving. Turns out I forgot to eat breakfast and mom threw me out just before lunch. I collapse to the ground and the tote falls off my arm and onto the ground, allowing the apples and oranges to spill out onto the dry ground around me. I lie on dirt and prickly, yellow grass for a couple of minutes contemplating my life.

I weigh out my options. I could just suck it up and eat the fruit and throw it all back up again or I could die a slow death from thirst and hunger. I was about to choose the latter as I started to smell smoke and a warm sensation on my hand. I looked at my right arm to see my fingertips brushing one of the apples on the ground, which seems to have caught fire. 

I scream and jump up to see the fire catch onto the rest of the fruit but leave the ground, and my hand that had been touching the burning apple, completely unharmed and unmarked. I watch as the embers slowly turn blue, then purple,  then black, then pure milky white. A loud pop and the flames are gone and the apples and oranges are no more. In their place, a platter