Ashley Trevor, Writer


By: Ashley Trevor


One Tuesday I rose out of bed early to study myself in the small mirror hung on the wall. I saw Madison Evelyn Rose, a twelve year old girl with purple rings under her eyes and a serious case of bedhead staring back at me. I pulled out a comb and went to fixing my horrid hairdo.

I walked over to my window and pulled the curtains together. If I wanted to use my powers, (which I’m not supposed to use in the first place) I can’t let anyone see me. If someone did, they would call the government and I would be vivisected for study.

When I was four, I was playing outside with my friends. We lived behind a farm that used nasty pesticides, so whenever it rained, all those chemicals flowed down a stream right past my yard. I took a sip from polluted the stream, despite my parents warnings,  not long after the storm and now I have telepathy, telekinesis, invisibility, and I can fly.

I find it much easier to get ready in the morning if I can enchant my clothes to dress me and my comb to brush my hair, while I get to read a book.

I wish I was allowed to use my powers at school, then I could search my teachers mind and get all the answers. I would get straight A+ ‘s, but it wouldn’t really matter because I get them anyways. 

I headed downstairs expecting my mother to be there, making breakfast, but she wasn’t.

“Mom?!” No response. 

She has to be asleep. Yes, that must be it. Just asleep. 

I look on the refrigerator, there is a note.

Okay, she left but she left a note.

I walked over and picked it up. Its typed. 


We know about your powers.

If you ever want to see your family

Again, meet us at 1212 12th Street,

on the 12th of December at 12 o’clock.

Come alone.