Much More Powerful Than My Parents
Magical muggle, one of my dreams, delight me with your fanciness.
Magical muggle, come closer, and give me a taste of your pranciness.
“What are you doing in there?” My father roars at me.
Nothing, I lie.
“It better be nothing!” my mother says.
They have nothing to do with Muggles, lumping them together as worthless
beings, who generalize witches and wizards, and pick on us,
tormenting us because we are magical and have precognition.
But my gift of foresight has shown that the love of my life
is going to be an enthusiastic, un-biased, faithful magical muggle, and I am
much more powerful than my parents anyway. Grandma taught me that.
Hiding it well, biding my time. My true wizard love should be here in six
years and three days. That is how exact my gift of precognition is.
I smile, roll over and go to sleep, imagining our three
gorgeous half-breed children who will call me Mommy.
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