Chapter 3 Chapter 3

“This is so frustrating,” I yelled, grabbing the blanket in an attempt to throw it on the ground next to its pillow friend, but to my utter shock, the blanket instantly caught on fire.

It was so quick and so sudden that it took me a while to register what took place right in front of my eyes, but when I finally did, a loud and horrifying scream left my mouth, and all I could do was watch as my bed was engulfed in bright red flames.

Seconds later, my door flung open, and my parents burst in, faces pale with shock and astonishment. They looked around my room, and when their eyes caught fire, their expressions took a turn for the weird.

I expected them to look afraid or confused or even dumbfounded, but instead they looked relieved. They looked like they had finally gotten something they’ve been expecting for a very long time.

I, however, was completely terrified. But to my utter dismay, my fear was soon replaced with confusion instead of relief. In a situation where a huge fire is consuming your bed, blankets, and walls, you’d expect someone to find a fire extinguisher and put it out, or at the very least get a bucket of water and hope you don’t run out of energy before oxygen.

What happened next was in no way possible. My father stepped forward, looking at the flames with what seemed to be pride, his deep blue eyes glistening, and with a flick of his fingers, a drop of water formed right above his palm.

The drop then started to grow bigger as my father turned his hand around in a circular motion, and soon enough, a stream of water appeared and put down the fire in a matter of seconds.

My eyes almost bulged right out of my skull as my mind scrambled to come up with a logical explanation for what I had just witnessed. I looked at the spot where seconds ago a fire was burning high and hot, and to my utter disbelief, it was all gone.

My bed was intact, no traces of burns from the flames or even drops from the water. It all looked perfectly fine, as if what happened was just a figment of my overactive imagination.

“What the hell?” I barely let out, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

“Honey.” My mother said as she took a step towards me, “I think it’s time for us to talk.”

Images of blazing fire and raging water swarmed my mind as I paced around the kitchen, trying so hard not to freak out.

I was vaguely aware of the smell of freshly made pancakes invading my nostrils, the slow movement of the blue and gold balloons scattered around in the kitchen, and the eyes of both my parents on me.

I was biting my nails, a habit I developed recently to cope with stress and anxiety, as I walked back and forth trying to find a reasonable explanation of what I had witnessed back in my bedroom, but nothing I could think of made sense.

Trust me, water manifesting from someone’s hand is not a thing you see every day, and no matter how much I wanted to convince myself that it was just my wild imagination playing tricks on me, the result of endless nights delving into fantasy books, my mind knew better.

What I saw was one hundred percent real, and the fact that the said person with those freaky superpowers was right in front of me didn’t really help with my nerves.

I abruptly stopped my pacing, crossing my arms over my chest and staring blankly at my parents, who gave me a concerned look. They still haven’t uttered a single word since we left my bedroom, and I was no longer handling the silence well, so I finally let out.

“How?”

My parents glanced at each other, a small smile forming on both of their faces, then glanced back at me. “Honey, take a seat first, and we will explain everything to you.” My mother calmly said, and I obliged.

“Dad, are you contaminated or something? Because that’s the only thing I could think of that makes the tiniest bit of sense.”

He chuckled lightly, earning a glare from me before clearing his throat. “No, we are not; we were born with these powers, they are a part of us.”

“So, what? You guys are… witches?” Even as I uttered the words, I could hear how ridiculous that sounded; my parents couldn’t be witches. Magic is a work of fiction, a plot to sell books and movies and merchandise… magic does not exist, does it?

“We are not witches, honey.” My mother said with her usual soft voice, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Of course, they are not witches. I must be dumb to even consider it.

“We are called mystics,” she finished.

“Excuse me?” My jaw dropped. What did she just say?

“Mystics, sweetheart.” My dad explained, “The name witches was given to our kind by humans who couldn’t fathom our powers.

It’s kind of derogatory to be honest, we don’t have green faces covered with moles, and we certainly do not fly on broomsticks.”

I must be out of my mind. No, that’s not it, this must be a dream, or a nightmare. A sequel to one of my usual night terrors, only this one is far more ridiculous and absolutely unbelievable.

I need to wake up. I pinched myself as hard as I could in hopes of waking up, but to no end, all I gained from that was a weird look from my parents and a bruise on my arm. This can’t be real.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I asked as they both stared at me, “This is a birthday prank, isn’t it? You guys are getting really good at this.”

I laughed. “It’s really creative, I'll give you that. But you have to tell me how you set my bed on fire and made that water appear out of thin air.”

I paced around the kitchen once again. “So where are the cameras? A prank like this, elaborate, you guys must be recording it, right? I bet I looked ridiculous.”

“Lilith, honey, this is not a prank.” My dad said as he put his hands on my shoulders, stopping my endless circles around the table.

“It has to be, because magic doesn’t exist. Right?” The desperation in my voice was obvious; my mind couldn’t wrap itself around this situation, so it scrambled to come up with a somewhat logical explanation, and I needed someone to tell me that it was all fake.