You've all heard of once upon a time, haven't you? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this is far, far, from Once upon a time. Although I could see why you'd think this is a once upon a time story. It's got many of the things that a "Once Upon A Time" story might have. A once normal girl, who's life, without warning, takes a magnificent turn in a completely different direction, with a chance to change how she's viewed. Oh yeah. Sounds like another Cinderella story. But as surprising as it may seem, this is Not one of those story's. Oh no. This is Real stuff. I should know. I lived it. And if you don't believe me, hey, that's on you. And I won't judge you for it. It was hard for me to believe at first too. But after a few deep breaths, an a whole lot of realization, I came around. And I can almost guarantee you will too. Almost. I know there are still some of you who won't believe me, even after I tell you. And that's fine. I don't know you and you certainly don't know me. I can't tell you what to believe or not believe in. That's out of my control. As I've come to realize, a lot of the things I'm about to tell you are. I can only hope you take my word for it. But again, I'm sure there are few of you that will. However, there is a chance that there is one out there, one of few, who will believe my story. If you are that one of few, as I once was, then I hope you're ready to read a story that will take you a journey. Not just any journey, One of few, no, no, no. This is the story of how I became a witch. Prepare yourself. Because perhaps you are exactly like me and this will happen to you as well. But before I begin there's one more thing you'll need to know. My name is Olivia Henderson. At the time of my story I was 11 transitioning into 12. Now then... Where do I begin... Let see here... Ah... How about with "I once lived a normal life"? That seems terribly fitting.
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11 years old. The year after you've finally reached double digits, and the year before you are a "Tween". You have heard that expression right? "Tween"? Short for "Inbetweenager" yup. I can see it in your mind already. And I'm pleased to inform you that I was thinking the exact same thing when it first came up too. What? That's what Tween stands for? What a stupid thing to call a person. Well, unfortunately, the universe hasn't come up with a better name for it yet, so we are all kind of stuck with it. Anyway, I was at "Tween"? Yes?

Well at this time I had learned two things. The first is that I couldn't wait to finally reach the "Tween" status, like my friends all had, because, unfortunately for me, I was the youngest of all of them. The second was that no matter how hard I tried to blend in to the "Norm" status, I was still always out of it. And for the strangest reason I thought it was because of my age. Of course now that I know that it was not my age and that it was something completely different I laugh at my reasoning back when I was so young and naive. But again, back then I didn't know. So there we have it. Anyway, I was so stuck on the idea that it was my age, that I thought it might change once I became 12. Ah there we go, you see there was a reason I was talking so much about "Tweens" and such before.

Anyway, it had been the longest 11 months and 30 days of my life, waiting for my 12 birthday to come around. Boy did I love having a June birthday. No school, no homework, and no cold. I hated the cold. Again, weird I know. But it's just who I was. Finally the night before my birthday came. I was counting down the minutes. I was born at exactly 11:59 p.m. on June 15th. But everyone I know counts it as June 16th. Well except me. So there I was, watching my clock, tick tock it's way, second by second to the 11th hour and the 59th minute. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the clock finally clicked, and it was 11:59 on June 15th. I smiled to myself, being the only one awake, and not wanting to wake, Charlie my little brother at the age of 8 years old, with my whoops of excitement, or wake my mum, Emily, or my dad, Fredrick, for they would kill me if they found me up at this hour. My first thought was to treat myself to a small helping of whipped cream, down stairs, since it was my birthday, after all. So quietly I crept down the stairs, into the kitchen, to the fridge, and pulled the can filled with sugary air out of the fridge. And that was the moment that I heard it. The small flip-ta of the mail slot on the front door.