Learning Magic

Where do I begin? I can’t really say for sure. There is no memory of how I got here. When did I even get my first stream of consciousness?

I contemplate the origin of the universe; the universe cannot tell where it came from. It cannot tell you what it was before it was the universe. My origin does not have the unfathomable mystery of that magnitude but magic created me. There simply is no other explanation.

I do not look like anyone else, they say. All I hear growing up is the word ‘abnormal’; always muttered in conspiratorial voices lest I forget my hideousness. My mother looks into my eyes and I see the love but also a profound sense of grief. She is helpless; it makes her angry, but never with me. She will not speak to anyone and as the years go by she withdraws into her cocoon. Deeper and deeper and she takes me with her. We have a bond that goes beyond life.

No one else matters to me. For the others, I have an indifference borne of self preservation. I am determined not to survive but to thrive.

In time, the magician will learn to make better versions of me. I can’t blame him for this attempt. He did his best.

Once he perfects his art, he will create the perfect ‘test-tube baby’. Until then I will be the first; a hidden first.