Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1597753
The Ninth daughter of a ninth daughter
|Prompt: They say in Witchland that a ninth daughter is the witchiest witch of all. You are the ninth daughter. In what ways are you special? Tell us about a day in your life. (Of course, I’m sure that you spend some of it a Writing.com. Isn’t it cool that you and Writing.com have the same birth month?)|
Word Count: 494
I’m not superstitious. I can’t afford to be superstitious because I’m the ninth daughter of a ninth daughter. If I accepted every omen that appeared in the dark of the moon or even in the light of a full moon, I’d be confined somewhere for my own safety and the safety of everyone in witchland and the rest of the known or the unknown universe.
My mother was a ninth daughter who had the power to grant wishes, of course, there was a price to pay for using that power. Each time my mother granted a wish, she shortened her life by one day. That was the reason I was born, my father wanted a son to carry on the family name. Instead of granting the wish out right, she kept having babies. I was born on the ninth day of the ninth month. My brother was born two years later on the tenth day of the tenth month, but that’s another story.
My power is the power to create. I can create anything, by simply visualizing it and believing it exists. If I was superstitious and believed in omens, then I would create the results of the omen. I learned this lesson when I was nine years old and my power began to awaken.
My Aunt Genie’s black cat crossed my path. I accepted the superstition that a black cat crossing your path brought bad luck. I had bad luck all right, from the moment I accepted to omen as being true, I had the worst luck of anyone born in witchland.
I spent my ninth birthday as a patient in the hospital emergency room. I had a broken arm set, a broken leg set and a finger amputated. To this day, I miss the ring finger on my right hand, but I do not intend to recreate that finger. After all, I don’t want to forget the lesson I learned on my ninth birthday.
I no longer believe in omens. If a black cat crosses my path, it’s because she wanted to go to the other side of the path. If a crow lands on my roof, it’s because he is looking for nesting materials, rather then foretelling a death in my house.
I use my power to create need item. Because I pay a price each time I use my power, I create items that can’t be acquired in any other way. Just yesterday, I created a camel for a caravan passing through town. Since I’m not God, the animals I create don’t have the power to reproduce themselves, but they can carry loads and plow fields.
It takes a lot of physical, mental and spiritual energy to create a living creature. Today I’m resting rather then working. I’m eating, drinking a lot of liquids, praying and meditating, I’m building up my reserves so I can go back to work so I can go back to work at the Poetry Factory.