FAWE

Not Real

Say what you want to say. I dont really care. This is my story, and Im sticking to it until the day I die. Maybe even past that. Who knows?

You may not believe me. You may say that Im crazy. But trust me when I say that if you are like me, then you are not alone. If you feel a twisting in your gut as you read this story, then call out to me. I will find you. I am my fathers daughter, after all.

But Im getting ahead of myself. Let me start over. Let me start where it all began: basketball practice.

A month ago, everything was normal. It was raining-sleeting outside, which was common here in Zora Creek. Inside, the air was chilled, a slight bite to the wind coming from the AC. Even running on the court couldnt stave off the nip of winter.

I ran, and ran, and ran. But did the other girls pass the ball to me, even when I was wide open? No, no they did not. I hated playing with these people. But I needed to stay fit.

Practice slowed down. Coach Baul called all of us over into a group huddle. His furrowed brows furrowed even more when he looked at me, as if he was confused as to why I was here. I stared at him until he looked away.

Good practice, girls. Well be ready for the game next week at least, he said. My teammates all smiled, but their grins fell when Coach looked at me and said, You will head the team.

Surprise and shock warred within me, and I could only gape. The other girls looked at me, expressions akin to hatred and disgust. One of them, though, blanched with fear, and asked, Why is her hair that color?

The rest all looked at me more closely, and I frowned at them. Whats so strange about my hair? I wondered to myself. I looked down, and saw that my braid was a strange color: vibrant, bright orange. As I watched, streaks of black flowed through my hair like tiny rivers.

I looked back up at my teammates, and saw my fear and shock reflected in their eyes. Outside, I heard thunder boom. Lightning crackled against my skin, and I rubbed my arms with my freezing hands. The electricity only got worse.

Glancing down, I let out a scream. My arms were literally flickering with white-blue fire, bolts of energy and power flickering between my fingers and across my skin. But the strange thing was that they didnt hurt. They tickled a little, but didnt hurt. They didnt even burn my clothes.

My fear built when I looked back up, meeting the scared eyes of my coach. He scrambled for words, for anything to say, but he was mute. The rest of the team seemed equally flabbergasted and afraid, and I couldnt blame them.

I glanced down at my hair, and saw that it was as black as a moonless night. My knees shook, threatening to collapse me. I looked up one last time, but not at my team. I looked past them, to the double doors leading to the gym. And, there, silhouetted against a flash of lighting, was someone wreathed in a green haze.

As I watched, the haze thickened, seeming to take the form of branches and vines. I blinked, and the world turned dark. I thought it was simply my energy failing, but it was the lights in the gym: they crackled, spit out sparks, then blew with a soundless crash of glass.

The figure wreathed in green came towards me, quicker than any human. I blinked at them, somehow seeing them in the dimness of the gym, and smiled. The lightning crackling along my body went out, just like the lights, and I closed my eyes.

I didnt feel the fall, or the arms wrapping around me before I hit the floor. But what I did feel was a sense of accomplishment, if accompanied by a heavy dose of fear.

The last thought in my head as I sank into unconsciousness was this: This is not real. It cant be. It is not time.