Zion, Mion and Dion were sisters, though not really sisters, more sisters, hearsay. Agreed upon by a pin-prick needle, three handshakes and the word of Zion; even if they weren’t truly sisters by blood, well by blood they now were.
The other sisters did not really want to follow Zion, it was that Zion had the loudest voice, and she was much taller than the others. When Mion and Dion were mad at Zion, they ran away from her, laughing together in the school playground shed and calling her a giraffe.
When Zion finally cared and overheard them, she bought a book of spells for pagans into school the very next day. She took them behind the shed where the teachers stored all the playtime toys and showed them its mature-looking cover.
The sisters were interested, cautiously handling every page and reading every spell with attention. Dion and Mion had different opinions. Dion loved the pages with love spells and Mion preferred the spells that healed and protected, though, Mion didn’t like any of it that much.
“Oh, Zion and Dion, you can’t be witches,” she groaned, staring at them with doe eyes.
Zion, upon hearing, showed Mion a big smirk and placed her knuckles on her hips, stretching her long neck side to side. “Why can’t I?” She spoke.
“Because it’s just not good,” Mion protested, a look of sadness took to her face. “It’s just not cool, Zion,” she explained again, trying to show some attitude.
Zion broke eye contact with Mion, swaying her big head to the side and pulling a sour look. “You just watch I don’t take your free will,” she said, unbothered.
Mion hated Zion, she wanted to pull Dion away from her by the hand though she knew by the look on Dion’s face that she liked the book. She thought she would take Zion’s side this time. Now she hated her blood, she hated that some part of Zion lingered beneath her skin.
She tried to make other friends, but they never clicked the way she did with Dion and Zion. She felt she didn’t belong, so she returned to them before that week ended.
When Mion and Dion got older they still weren’t quite as long or as bitchy as Zion, but they had lengthier legs and necks, just like Zion, and their heads weighed the same. The sisters liked jewellery, silver or gold, real or fake and always wore them around their necks and ankles. They liked earrings and diamond grills, makeup and clothes but above everything else, they desired to be loved and adored by many.
The sisters dressed differently from the other girls, wearing black ribbons and lace and showcasing their bosoms. At seventeen, the girls had different energies from each other, and people could tell they weren’t sisters from their faces' differing colours and outlines. Despite this, they would always stubbornly demand respect that they were.
One day, a group of girls from their high school, teased the girls by calling them lesbians and Zion lost her mind. She hurled a spell towards them, with a glint in her eyes as she snarled. When the girls in the group came into school the next day, they had woken up with bald heads, rashes and puss-filled warts.
Rumours went around, and all the girls and boys at their London high school stayed away from them from that day. This drained Zion of energy.