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Haven’t you ever wanted to be a magical girl?
It always seems like such a great thing, being able to save the city each night in a cute dress, summoning cool weapons to beat up the baddies. With the mandatory little buddy, of course. Someone to always stick by your side and talk you through your new powers!
But real life is never how we want it.
Instead, we’re outcasted by society for taking the precious jobs in the government and police force. I guess it’s reasonable not to trust a bunch of teenagers with deadly weapons, but you don’t get a choice as a magical girl. You’re born into a world where something that determines your entire life manifests first as a little pimple somewhere on your body, then growing into a keyhole. Eventually you wake up with a Soul Key, and the real fun begins, living life like a convict on the run.
The average magical girl life expectancy is about 24 years old. Although, it doesn’t really matter if we reproduce or not, cause the gene that makes you one hasn’t been found yet; for all we know, it’s chance. And a damn small chance, at that.
Back on the topic of Keyholes, though, you can’t really control where on your body it is. It can cause issues if you don’t cover it, because the government just loves to spread propaganda on how we attack military bases or something, and the people eat it up. So it’s not uncommon for businesses to have a “no-magic” policy, or to get a rock chucked at you on the street if you get found out.
Ah, I should explain who I am. My name is Ivy, and as of right now, I’m a 16 year old magical girl located in Portland. My Keyhole is located on the outside of my right thigh, which is pretty convenient for covering. Unlike other people, who commonly get guns or swords or something, my weapon is just a fancy yo-yo. It kinda sucks, but it’s good at fending off boredom, I guess?
Like any other magical girl, I just need to put my Soul Key into my Keyhole to transform and draw out my weapon. It’s simple and effective, if not painful losing the key and having to pat down your floor at three in the morning to find it.
It’s be really cool if I was able to do that right now, to show you and all that, but I’m afraid I’m currently knocked out. You see, magical girls being portrayed so negatively kinda pushes everyone into small groups, which creates pretty big conflicts of interest. For example, this girl named Ash has a pretty big vendetta against me just because I wouldn’t join their glorified gang. Dunno why they thought I would, when she sent that one girl to kill my own mother. I hate Ash, I hate that girl, and I hate this entire world that we’ve been forced into without consent.
Animosity is what fuels magical girls, anyways. The more negative emotions and violent thoughts you carry, they get transferred into pure energy when you transform, so you can fight the Demons. Yes, not some monster of the week, actual Demons, like from Hell. And they think a nuke could take out Lucifer.
I think that’s everything? It’s not really worth mentioning my living situation, just a ground level apartment. Mom’s dead and Dad’s getting the milk, so it’s just me and the cat. Oh, my appearance, I got brown hair and blue eyes and dress like I’m homeless. That’s it.
I’m due to wake up soon, so I’m gonna have to cut this short. I just got jumped, if I remember correctly, but I’ll tell you the details next time.
If you have the option, if a little buddy approaches you and asks you to make a wish, always decline. It’s not worth it.
I wish I had that option.