Before a Once Upon A Time

The Story of...Me. - A Single Part, a Single Parting

Warning, contains suggestive themes and violence(Just a little of both), and if you do not wish to read these, please do not read.

Story Five- The Story Of…Me.

Part 1 - A Single Part, A Single Parting

I lived in world called Earth in a time called the 21st century. You may know of it because, well, you live there. If you don’t know of it, it is a different kind of place then most of you know. There are lots of advanced technologies, though not as advanced as the Justonians. It was nice, pretty and facing lots of problems. And the witches finally took initiative to take over. Even if you don’t believe it, there are actually witches like in my stories everywhere, in every world. They are able to tap into the energy that winds its way through all of times and space-a more evolved kind of human. And they are in every world, whether you think you’re world too advanced or even too primitive for it.

The witches of Earth are widely accepted as crazy-or at least, the ones that show themselves. It was a very small percentage of the witches on Earth who showed themselves to the world as witches-and most of those who claimed to be witches publicly were not.  Witches found out long ago on Earth that declaring they existed was not a good way to go. And so, it’s not really surprising that it was rather hard to keep track of all of the witches in the world. It was a big world, after all. (Actually, it was fairly small but didn’t have nearly as condensed of population centers as other worlds.) And it’s almost impossible to keep track of all the witches in a place where they can’t just declare themselves and have their name put in a book to verify both their claim and its truthfulness and then they are kept track of forever, automagically.

And so the fact that my great, great, grandmother had slipped between the cracks wasn’t terribly surprising. It was just a little sad that she never saw fit to tell us she was a witch-I suppose because she was a fairly powerful witch and figured in would be many, many generations before another witch was born.

She was wrong. I was born a witch, a very powerful witch, a witch that would later be feared across the entire community of witches on the planet Earth. But that was later. When I was young, I quickly figured out I was different, I could do things no one else could and I hid that from everyone else. I didn’t want them to know I was special- I didn’t feel the need to tell them because I knew I was and they didn’t matter as long as I did. In fact, I was a little afraid of the possibility of them finding out. Even by the time I was in 5th grade (still a child but a child nearing the transition to puberty) I knew that different wasn’t really accepted-in fact it was made fun of mercilessly by those children who were not lucky enough to be different themselves. So I avoided letting anyone know the truth. Until there was an accident. A big, bad accident. One that changed my life forever.

I practiced with my powers when no one could see me. I tried to never use them in school. Ever. And then, when I was 15 (in Earth years. Somewhere around the middle of the transition from child to adult.) I went to high school. Dreaded high school. Everyone who went either really wanted to go or hated the idea of ever doing so.

I was one of the later. I didn’t want to go the high school because I knew it would test my control to the limits. I knew that I would probably fail at some point and that all I could do was hope that when it happened, it happened in a way that wouldn’t be noticed.

I suppose I didn’t have a magic lamp though, because it happened. And it happened big.

It had been a normal day, normal classes, normal life until lunch had happened and two guys had cornered me on the way back from the bathroom. Don’t ask me why the engineers that built the designs thought it was smart to include a long hallway from the bathrooms to the cafeteria, but they did and kids were always knocking out the lights in the hallway so it was almost normal to walk in the dark, with the crunch of broken glass beneath your feet.