We get a lot of questions (sometimes accusations) about our family. After all, you didn’t usually run into families with eleven children anymore. And—well—it’s hard to say: “Well, we’re witches, and our parents didn’t actually have any control over when they conceived so—there’s that.” Because people don’t really respond to that well. Usually we just say “Our parents are very religious” which is true, just not the religion that people expect. Although—Mom was obsessed with the Christian bible, so our biblical names help that along. I’m Leah. My sisters are Ruth, Sarah, and Elizabeth. My brothers are Daniel, Adam, Paul, Simon, Timothy, Jared, and Isaac. Luckily, we were saved any –tiels, all though that could have helped sell the religious bit.
The truth is—three of us are conventional, biological, mom and dad had sex and here we are children. That would be Daniel, Paul, and myself. Even if it’d just be the three of us, we’d be a pretty odd family. Daniel is seventeen years my elder. Paul is eleven years my elder. Had it just been the three of us—I would have been a “Bonus” baby. But—it wasn’t just the three of us. The other eight, well, they are the special ones. Dad would have a vision during his meditations, two weeks later they’d go to the doctor, and bam—pregnant Momma. No biological acts necessary. They’re the special ones with all the magic in their blood. They get training from Mom and Dad, they get to be full blown witches and get cool magical powers.
But don’t go pouting over us, Dearie, because Daniel, Paul, and I didn’t get to be completely normal. No—that’d be too easy. We get visions, premonitions, low level psychic abilities, etc. Usually, just enough to get us into trouble but not enough to get us out of it. We may or may not have gotten ourselves into trouble quite a bit. Okay, mostly me—but I mean—come on. Can you really blame a girl?
But that’s not the point. The point is—I’m here to brag. You see, I’m twenty three years old. And just after my twenty third birthday unbeknownst to the general population as a whole, my family saved the world. And I helped. This is that story, as true as I can remember it. Maybe someday this will get out and I can brag properly. Until then—writing this story will have to do. Maybe I’ll sell it, maybe the general population is reading this thinking its fiction. Who knows? I just know if I don’t get it all out, I’ll burst from excitement.
So here goes nothing.