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Aug 22, 2019 6:18 PM
Margaret becomes a Miracle
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Michael shrugs. "Sure, if you like."

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"I gave you two options, which one are you agreeing to?"

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"Oh, sorry, your parents."

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"Okay!" She hovers her metal sheet over next to him like a rusty flying carpet.

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Off they go! Michael in front, so Margaret can see that he isn't about to fall off. She doesn't expect him to have any trouble, though, and they make good speed towards her old neighborhood.

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"You lived in a town, fancy-scales?"

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She giggles at "fancy-scales". "Yeah, I did. It was nice having people around."

The people don't seem to think it's nice having them around. They're ostentatiously slamming their shutters, or glowering suspiciously through them, or doing one and then the other.

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Michael has an awful idea...

 

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He teleports into one of the shuttered houses and shouts "Boo!"

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The woman inside shrieks and tries to go upside his head with a dictionary.

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"Michael? Where did you . . . oh bother."

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Michael teleports back to her side. "Hey!"

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"Everyone is so scared of us! I guess we could be really dangerous if we wanted to."

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“And don’t they forget it!”

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"I'd rather they did forget. Hard to make friends when everyone is scared of you. But you're not scared, and probably other people with powers won't be scared, so I can have enough friends anyway."

She nods, satisfied with her logic, and floats them around a corner. "That's the house I grew up in." It's small but in decent repair.

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"Nice um..." He tries to think of a compliment. "Roof."

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Snicker. "You can say it's tiny and boring, I already know. I actually transformed in the attic and had to go out the window because I couldn't fit through the door afterward."

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"Shall we show off our glory?"

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"Sure!" She lands the pair of them and knocks on her own door.

Her dad appears, looks down at them, and says, "Arrrrgh who the hell are you?"

"I'm Margaret, Dad, I got magic!"

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"My daughter is not a feathery lizard! Maybe you used to be her, but you aren't now, I can see that much!"

"My mind is the same--well, mostly--I mean--" aaaand she's talking to a closed door.

"Okay, my dad is confused and kind of dumb."

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". . . not really. If he thinks I'm not me, is he really my dad?" 

A woman comes around the side of the house and double-takes. "Would you two like some clothes?" Her voice is half-gentle and half-judgemental, as if she can't quite decide whether their nudity is their own fault.

"Mom? It's me? Margaret?"

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Michael snorts. "Why would we?"

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