Chapter One

A semester had passed at the girls university, it was then the wintertime and their home in London had turned colder than the ice age walls under the Baltic Sea. Simmi and Timmi had spent Christmas morning with their mother and hated every moment of it. They found their mother to be much too friendly, especially after the girl’s silent disagreement in the hallway before.

The twins had mutually decided that they no longer wanted anything at all to do with each other. It was like sitting across a table to complete strangers, if it wasn't for the fact that they were identical twins.

Their mother was completely unaware of the distance between the sisters. She continued the Christmas excitement through conversation and carols and brought out presents for the girls from her room. Their mother had always wanted to make their Christmas better than the last and she had gone all out with presents that year. She had gifted Simmi multiple canvases and an art easel and she had given Timmi a new recording microphone and a new black dress for her upcoming university concerts.

Simmi tried her hardest to mock her excitement, honestly she really was excited to have a new medium to work with but Timmi had seemed to have had enough of it. She folded her arms across her chest and snarled at Simmi who was sitting on the opposite end of the table.

Their mother looked left and right as she looked at them. She couldn’t work out what the matter was.

“Girls? Is something going on that you’re not telling me?” she finally asked them.

Then, Timmi really had it. Her voice began to rise as she talked upwards at her mother.

“Yes, something is wrong,” Timmi answered, all matter of fact, “I want to live at dads,” she demanded.

“What? What could make you say such a thing like that?” Their mother asked her.

Timmi shrugged her shoulders, her eyes were growing hotter, and she could no longer find it in herself to look at Simmi.

“It’s her with all her energy in my space." Timmi hissed, shooting a look of disgust at Simmi. "She puts a downer on what’s down of my already down life,” Timmi continued raving.

Simmi scoffed at Timmi in response, but Timmi paid her no notice.

“You can’t just pack up and go off to your dad Timmi,” their mother replied, her voice shaking with panic.

“Well, why not?” Timmi argued, throwing her hands onto her own waist.

“Well, it’s Christmas for Christs sake Timmi!” Her mother yelled. Tears were beginning to stream down her face. She looked at Timmi with a stern look but the softness to her made her look like crumpled paper.

“Ugh!” Timmi hurled back at her mother and she got up from her seat and flung to her bedroom.

“Whatever’s the matter with you both?” Their mother asked Simmi. They could hear a commotion coming from Timmi’s room.

Simmi shrugged her shoulders and looked sadly up at her mum.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

Timmi returned to the kitchen with a suitcase handle gripped in her hand. The suitcase that was under it looked full and wasn’t closed properly. A sleeve from one of her glittery tops poked out of the zipper.

“I’m going now, and look Simmi would you just do me a favor and just not see dad today?” Timmi announced.

Simmi looked up at Timmi. Slightly shocked by her decision, partly sad and mostly worried about her sister.

“Okay then, Timmi,” Simmi agreed, nodding her head feebly towards Timmi.

Subsequently Timmi left and after months went by their mother announced that it was most likely that Timmi wasn’t coming back to live with them. Simmi apologized but their mother didn’t hear it. She said that Timmi was being overdramatic, and she would regret it someday.

Things went well for Timmi at her dad’s place. Duke could stay over at the weekends, and she had more privacy from her sister. Her dad understood her in a way that her mother couldn’t. Her mother was overbearing. Timmi’s dad spent most evenings out of the house with his girlfriend Jet.

Timmi’s dad thought Timmi’s mother misunderstood her. He thought she was spiritually awakened. Timmi’s dad suspected a power within Timmi, and he thought she had gained this by being his daughter. One night as Timmi was making food in the kitchen, he bought this up. She didn’t want to listen at first.

"Not everyone has the power to be a witch or a warlock Timmi, the fact that I have abilities and your mothers always blubbering on about her psychic capabilities must mean that you have the power too!" Her father pressed.

Timmi let out a huff of air and continued buttering the bread for her sandwich, she moved her head slightly to the right to look behind her at her father. "It doesn't mean anything dad, I've never seen you do anything magical," Timmi protested. She had heard her father sighing, so she turned around to look at him as he sat at the dining table in the kitchen.

"I've retired Timmi, I had to for you girls. I'm not the only warlock in the world, Timmi," her dad tried to explain. Timmi turned back around and began to place a slice of ham neatly onto the buttered bread. "Alright then, I'll show you some of my magic tricks," her father continued.

"What? Magic cards?" Timmi mocked, she felt herself smiling as she fixed her sandwich together. She used the knife to cut the sandwich in half and then turned around and looked at her father once more.

“Well, you used to like my stories Timmi,” her dad responded, a wave of sadness overtook his speech and became audible in it.

“That was when I was much younger dad,” Timmi replied in a groan. She took a bite out of the sandwich she had made.

“You’re just going to let it go to waste!” Her dad exclaimed seriously. Timmi furrowed her brows, unamusedly shook her head and sighed.

“Dad, seriously, okay so maybe they put something in the water back in those days that made you think you were magic but seriously I’m not going to go around with sticks chanting magical spells,” Timmi continued protesting. Her dad chuckled at her.

“It’s nothing like that at all Timmi, see you’re not even listening to me. What sticks?” Her dad spoke and he began chuckling. “There are no sticks in magic, well maybe some kind of a power source. I never used sticks or wands.” Her dad told her. He placed his hands onto his waist.

“What did you use then?” Timmi asked him, she was still wary to believe him, but her walls were beginning to open after eating her ham sandwich.

“I read books at first, books on how to be a warlock. You can have anything you want if you find one of those books. The genuine kind that holds real power, not fake manuals you find on how to be a dunce,” her dad explained.

Timmi rolled her eyes and began tapping her toes against the floor.

“Do you have one of these books?” Timmi asked him.

Her father shook his head and grinned at her.

“No, I had to burn them all otherwise they would have burned me!” Her dad answered and let out a chesty chuckle.

Timmi rolled her eyes once more. “You would have to find a real one yourself,” her dad continued. Timmi shook her head with widely dramatic, uninterested eyes. She sighed again; she knew her father would grow old someday, but she never imagined it would be that fast.