This was very hard to write. Been there, done that, but nobody ever found out. At least so far as I know!

Mom, Grandma and I went outside to the backyard, and we walked up to the tree. It was quite large, easily 40 feet tall.

“Okay, now what am I supposed to do with it?” I asked.

“Well, the first thing to do would be to strip the leaves off of it, then remove the branches from the main trunk, stacking them carefully over by the garage for a bonfire Friday night.” Mom said.

“How should I do it? Is there some kind of mental tool I need to use?”

“No, just picture what you want in your mind, see things happening and then will it to be that way.” She stood back with Grandma while I tried to envision how it would look. In my mind, I saw the leaves rustle a bit, then vanish and reappear in the compost pile. I concentrated, and then put my will into the picture as I said my magic word to help me focus on the action.

“Now.” I said calmly, and I heard gasps of surprise from behind me. I did the same thing with the branches. I could see them come off of the tree as if they were being shaved off of a man’s face. Focusing on my vision as I said “Now” again, the only sounds I heard were a couple of gasps and I only felt a slight draining sensation.

I opened my eyes and the bare trunk of the tree lay in front of me.

“Here honey, you’d better sit down for a while, you must be exhausted.” Mom led me to one of the patio chairs.

“Okay, but I really didn’t feel like I’ve made any real effort so far.” I stated. “Is it normally this easy?”

“Easy? Well then, let’s challenge you! Can you divide the trunk into pieces, no more than two feet wide, and then divide those pieces in to 8 pieces? Then it should be stacked with the woodpile, and we should...”

Mom and Grandma both turned pale as I closed my eyes and thought Now. I divided the trunk, then split the pieces and put them in the woodpile with no saw dust to clean up. I believed I had done a decent job, but Mom and Grandma seemed to be upset about something. I was trying to think of what I had done wrong, when Mom started to tell me what she thought.

“Emily, I don’t think you realized it, but you never looked back at the tree trunk, and you never even put down the soda!” She was right, come to think about it. I really didn’t need to see it, at least not with my eyes. I knew exactly where everything was, in fact I could close my eyes completely, and I could still you what the label on the new garden shovel leaning against the garage said.
“I-I just did it like you said you wanted it, Mom.” It had taken less effort than it sometimes took to drag myself out of bed in the morning.

“What most impresses me is the casual way she did things. Almost off-handed, as though it didn’t affect her in the slightest.” Grandma told Mom.

“Emily, it looks like you don’t understand why we’re surprised. Think about it this way. You’ve just taken a 40 ft tree, and in less than 15 minutes, all that's left is compost, several cords of firewood and a few branches for a bonfire this weekend. That’s a scary level of power, and you aren’t even breathing hard.”

“B-but I...” Oh, my blessed God. I had been clueless, just trying to do what Mom had said, but I had done a job that should have taken several men hours to accomplish. As I thought about it, I began to get very anxious. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again, and that a temper tantrum could hurt someone or cause terrible damage, and I could never, ever be the person that I’d wanted to be, I was too dangerous to be around people and even my Tim, and it all just seemed so overwhelming that I just wanted to die, and I cried and cried until it finally just became too much, and everything suddenly went dark.

I woke up lying on my bed, and the enormity of what had happened made me just want everyone to leave me alone, I just wanted to cry. Even my transformation hadn’t disturbed me this badly, and that made me wonder what that said about me? Was I secretly happy that I had changed? Was I some kind of weirdo? Am I going insane or something?

I walked around my room, looking at pictures of Gabe, some trophies I had won, a couple of yearbooks with pictures of Gabe, football pictures and stuff, and I just couldn’t stop crying. I held a picture of Debbie and I from last year, and I just wondered why things had to change. We looked so happy there. I ran my finger over a picture of me, still in my football gear, smiling and proud, and I realized I was never going to be that happy ever again.

I couldn’t even talk to Tim again. If I got too emotional, what might I accidentally do? I got back in bed, pulled the covers over my head and bawled. I wanted to talk to him, so bad! I didn't want to never msee him again, and my heart just hurt. I needed something to calm me down and maybe stop the pain a little. I decided to go to the back and I got a bottle of Kentucky Whiskey. Maybe I could stop my insides from hurting so bad. I wish Mom was like other Moms, but no, no painkillers or sleeping pills in our house. Crap. The whiskey didn't even taste very good, but I was starting to feel a little better, so I drank some more.

Killing myself seemed like a very good idea, that would stop me from being so dangerous to everyone, and I just couldn’t handle this pain, it was just eating into me. What did I have to live for?

I’d have to live far away from everyone, alone for the rest of my life. What if somebody was able to manipulate me again, or even somehow control me? I was worse than a nuclear weapon in some ways. Maybe I could just jump off of a building, or drive my truck into a bridge.

God, Help me! Change me back, please? I don't wanna die, but I can’t live like this! Please, take these powers away from me!

Who am I kidding? No one is going to help me, nothing is going to get better. Eventually I’ll either make a mistake, or something, and people are going to get hurt because of me, and I just can’t...I can’t allow that to happen.

I won’t let it happen. Not because of me. I sat down and wrote some letters to my family, to Debbie and to Tim. His was the hardest, and it just made me hurt even more. I decided to tell him everything. Maybe if he knew that I was once a guy, it would gross him out enough that he might even be glad that I’m gone.

No, I didn’t mention being a witch. I didn’t tell him how I was changed; I just said I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. I told Debbie that it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t want her to feel guilty for anything. I wrote a long letter to Mom and Dad, and another long one to Grandma. I hated that this would hurt them, and I almost changed my mind about the whole thing. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but no matter what I did, I knew that I was going to hurt someone eventually.

I decided to sit and think about things, and sitting really felt like a good idea. I flopped down on the sofa, wiped my eyes, and slowly counted to ten. By this time I wasn’t thinking all that well, thanks to the whiskey, and I was really getting depressed. I was really tired so I decided to go back to bed, but my legs didn’t seem to want to let me get up. I finally just decided to lie down for a while and watch the TV. I might even fall asleep.

Maybe I’d get lucky and never wake up.

,

t.