Welcome to my mini-series, Imelika and the World of Magic! I have another series currently in action, but I'm taking a break from it. The first chapter takes place in San Diego, California. We mostly learn about the life of Imelika, a teenage girl who normal... but definitely isn't. I don't mean 'pours milk before cereal' not normal. I mean... really different. Almost... inhuman. The story is in the credits. First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/886896492 Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/886896492 Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/888863124 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I get teased at school, my aunt says "The words 'strange' and 'weird' are not insults. Being weird is being unique." Yeah, right. As if that's true for the kids who call you 'strange' and 'weird'. My name is Imelika. It's weird how the word 'Imelik' means strange, and my name is pretty much 'Imelik'. Almost as if I was meant to be named 'strange', which I am. Boy, do I fit that description. I'm mostly your average thirteen-year-old girl. Tall, way too emotional, and kind of obsessed with how people think of me. But I'm not normal. First things first, my family isn't normal. My father di3d in a car crash and my mom, not being able to raise me herself, left me at my aunt Lily's doorstep with only one belonging; a sky-blue blanket that I was wrapped in. My aunt is my father's sister, and she wasn't very fond of my mom. She's a nice lady and she adopted me. Aunt Lily's unmarried, so she raised me all on her own. It wasn't hard, because I was a very calm and agreeable child. Though Lily literally named me 'strange-a', she swears that she didn't know Imelik meant strange. No matter how many times she says that, I know that she meant to name me strange. I also know why. Second things second(is that a real phrase?), here's the reason why I was named Imelika. Most kids you see have blond, brown, black, or red hair, right? Some have dyed their hair green, purple, blue, or some other color, right? And usually, if a kid has hair, its' actually HAIR, right? Well, my hair doesn't fit the description for all three of those things. My hair is blue. Literally blue. I didn't dye it. Ever since I was born, it's been blue. To make things weirder, my hair isn't even hair. Hair is made out of keratin, right? My hair isn't. It's not even solid! I can pass my hand straight through it without my hair breaking, and the weirdest thing? Everything that touches my hair becomes WET. As if my hair is literal water, which it might be. My aunt makes me hide it. Ever since a close call with an adult trying to k1ll me and calling me an alien, I have to hide my hair under a wig. It's very hard since my hair grows from my head all the way to my thighs, but we manage it. Even without my secret being known, I'm teased in school. I find coffee repulsive, think the idea of kissing someone is overrated(you basically press your lips on someone's germy, slobbery lips. Ew!), and would wear a My Little Pony T-shirt to school if I had one. Even if it forces me to drop out of school, if I could, I'd just let everyone see the true me with my true hair. I've tried to ask Lily why I can't, but she gets weirdly aggravated when I talk about my hair. Even though I have so many questions-why my hair is so strange, why do I have to hide it, and most importantly, who is my mother-I don't ask Lily many things. Lily told me that instead of lying to me and pretending to be my mother, she told me the truth and I should thank her for that by not asking more questions about my mother. She says that every time I ask something. Usually, I'm fine with it, but as I grew older, I wondered more and more. Who is my mother? Where is she? What if her hair is like mine? What if she isn't human? What if I am not human? What am I?
