How it all started? Okay. I can tell you. Not that you would believe me. No-one does. Hmm. Where to start? I guess it was when I lost my job at-

No, wait.

It started earlier.

Much earlier.

In fact, it was before I can even remember.

Here is how my parents used to tell it. I was born into a pretty normal family. Mom. Dad. An older sister by two years. The first few years were uneventful. That was until I was four and my sister six. She started a witch club together with her friends. And for whatever reason, four-year-old me wanted in. Of course, which little girl of six wants her little brother around when she plays with her friends. So she refused.

I did what all little children did when they couldn't get what they wanted. I threw a tantrum. Cried my eyes out until Mom stepped in. And it worked. Mom made my sister include me. Of course, my sister wasn't thrilled. But she always has been creative. I was dressed up - that part used to be only a pointy hat - and was deemed a cursed witch. As in an evil mage has trapped me in the body of a boy.

What can I say?

My sister wanted her witch club to be girls only.

I guess it made sense to pretend I was a girl too.

Just cursed.

You know how it is. Children race from one fantasy to the next to play out. But somehow, witch club always stayed. As my sister and I grew up it only got more elaborate. When I was six she dumped a violet wig on my head. A left-over from Halloween. Made me so proud. We grew closer together, my sister and I. Practically inseparable. And over the years the witch club lost members. But my sister and I kept it alive.

Sure. I admit.

By the time I was eleven the cross-dressing part became weird.

But for me, it was a small price to pay.

My best friend was my sister and this was how we connected.

Eventually, it became too much for me. Coincidently when I hit puberty. I guess when you "awaken as a man" then cross-dressing as a witch isn't very manly. So I quit. Biggest mistake of my life. Seriously. My sister was so into it, you wouldn't believe. She researched everything. Gone was the child's play. With each year she would research more about witches. Our pretend rituals became more realistic. And so would my witch disguise. And when she insisted on me wearing a bra stuffed with-

So, yeah. I quit.

It drove a wedge between me and my sister.

Without witch club, we slowly drifted apart.

By the time we were in our early twenties, our contact was reduced to two e-mails a year and Christmas at our parents.

It all changed when I was twenty-four and I lost my job. A few months of unemployment robbed me of nearly all my savings. I was looking at a bleak future. When I couldn't pay my landlord anymore it would have meant moving back again with my parents. What a low blow.

My sister came to the rescue.

Offered me to stay at her place.

Change of scenery and all that.

You see, while I stayed close to my parents, she had to fly far away. In her case, it was Portland Oregon. There she worked as some kind of crafter for the indie movie scene. Making all kinds of props. Even, now and then, replicas for a museum. I guess this was where she channeled all her years researching witches and rituals. She was good at finding out details for movies and such. Making props that looked a little better than those other makers made.

With nothing else to lose, I accepted her proposal.

She was right.

It certainly would be a change in scenery.

So, I rented a U-Haul trailer and did a little cross country road trip. Which ate my last savings. When I arrived at my sister's I was completely and utterly broke. Couldn't even pay for a simple hamburger at McDonald's. Thankfully, my sister took up the slack. Meanwhile, I vowed to get out of my funk. To get back on my own feet and get a job.

But I didn't.

Sure, I got here and there a day laborers job.

Yet, they never lasted.

My sister, bless her soul, never complained. I was a complete freeloader, yet she only had encouragement for me. But there was only so much she could do. Life was bearing down on me and depression became my new best friend. And while I pretty much gave up, my sister didn't.

I still remember clearly how one day she came home with such energy and good cheer.

"Bro, I found something amazing. See this manuscript? It is a translation of a translation that- It's old. Like really old. It describes the initiation ritual of witches down to the last detail. And the best thing is I can get all the stuff we need for it. It will be the best thing ever. Come on, Bro. How about a new meeting of the Witch Club?"

Of course, my first reaction was to refuse.

I knew my sister.

If she wanted to do this then it had to be authentic.

Which would mean that I had to dress up as a witch.

Crossdress in more detail than never before.

It took her less than a week to wear me down. I mean I knew why she wanted to do it. Not because she was enthusiastic about the manuscript. Hell, I honestly believed it was a prop she made herself. No, it was her way of trying to cheer me up. I had loved our Witch Club when I was a kid. Back then before it got awkward. In fact, it never really left me. To this day I have a small rubber witch on my keychain. The paint had long flaked off. To everyone else, it was a blob of rubber. For me, it still was the witch that my sister gifted me when I was nine.

The next week was hell.

As soon as I agreed I was in for the long haul.

Doesn't sound so bad?

My sister's obsession to make everything authentic had reached a new manic height. Not only had I to wear a dress. It had to be one made of natural materials. Mostly linen. My first time wearing make-up was spend receiving a lecture on how every ingredient was organic. If it wasn't coming from nature, then it had no place in the ritual. I caught a break in regards to prosthetics. I had dreaded that she would push some plastic blobs on my chest or something. To mimic breasts of course. The alternative turned out to be small sacks filled with cherry pits.

I soon was stressed out more by my sister than my lack of employment.

In my spare time, of which I had plenty, I had to practice.

Most of all how to dance.

Not modern dances, mind you. But the ritual dance we had to perform.

It all came to a conclusion on mid-summer solstice. Because of course, it had to be this day. My sister wouldn't settle for any other day, save for winter solstice. We drove deep into the woods. Which wasn't that hard in Portland. Maybe an hour of drive. I already wore most of my outfit. Which drove me nearly nuts. Try wearing linen panties, bra, and dress. It is itchy as hell. Especially if you were only used to artificial fibers as textiles.

As we parked her SUV at the end of a dirt road my suffering was deepened. In the shine of her car's headlights, it was time for my make-up and wig. I didn't let her put those on me before. Someone could have seen me, you know? Of course, the wig was one hundred percent human hair. Which was a little creepy.

By now you must be wondering why I suffered through it all.

I must admit, when we walked into the woods, I became excited.

This was just like the old days. Just better.

I forgot about embarrassment or my crossdressing.

It was time for Witch Club.

At that moment I felt connected with my sister again.

It also helped that my big sister found the perfect location for our little ritual. A small clearing in the woods and in the middle was a large monolithic stone. It was perfect. Too perfect I suspected. I mean my sister worked in the movie industry as a prop maker. It wasn't hard to count one and one together and come to the conclusion that she had helped this location a little along.

While the last rays of sun vanished beyond the horizon we were busy setting up. We had bundles of candles that all had to be scattered in just the right places. Which was harder than you could imagine as it was nearly completely dark. We didn't want to light the candles too early. Twigs, flowers, and bags of herbs were placed on the monolith. All arranged to a specific pattern.

We were done an hour before midnight.

By that time I was wound up and excited.

My brain knew it was fake, but my heart told me I was on the cusp of something extraordinary.

What still amuses me was the ritual words. Of course, we couldn't speak some dead language. Plain old English it was. The only concession my sister allowed. We spoke the words and started the dance. We circled the monolith. Step by step we followed an ancient dance.

I was into it.

A lot.

For a moment I forgot that it was just made pretend.

That I was not really a witch initiate.

That I was a man beneath the disguise.

The circle was way too big. My sister dancing opposite of me. I remembered thinking that it could use a few more dancers. When a few more appeared - seemingly out of thin air - I was briefly annoyed. It was supposed to be ritual just with her and me. But no, she had to go all out. Hire co-workers to flesh it all out. But a moment later I didn't care anymore. This dance felt magical and the feeling grew with each step I took.

At that moment I ignored a lot of things.

There was a small pang of annoyance at my sister.

All-natural my ass as floating lights appeared.

She must have hired some special effects guy to flesh out the ceremony.

But you know what? Fuck it.

I was so committed to the role they could have dropped a pink elephant into the circle and I wouldn't have reacted.

Eventually, the dance slowed down. The dancers formed a half-circle around the monolith. Beckoning my sister and me to step into the middle. There was this old woman waiting for us. She looked so regal that it spit into anyone's face who said women couldn't age gracefully. Despite her old age, she had such beauty and life etched into her face. I had never seen her before, but damn this actress must be worth a lot. How could my sister have afforded her?

What came next was a monologue in English. If it hadn't been for that I might have accepted the whole ritual as real. You might not understand how immersed I was. Everything was perfect. My body flooded with endorphins and adrenaline. At least, I understood English. Which helped as I spoke my vows. To uphold nature. To be kind to every living being. To not abuse the powers that I was to receive.

At that moment I felt magical.

As if the supernatural really existed and entered my body.

There was a tingle, followed by a brief numbness.

Never had goosebumps so strong in my life.

At last, we were crowned with a wreath of flowers. A few parting words and the women around us vanished. As if they were ghosts that departed our world again. All I could think that it was amazing how far practical special effects had come. I vowed to ask my sister later how they had managed that.

When we walked back to the car I was on an all-time high.

Forgotten the dreadful months before.

My sisters plan to cheer me up had worked to the T.

At last, I was gushing something like: "This was amazing. And those effects. You and your co-workers really outdid yourself. A little mad that you sprung that on me, but now I am so happy you did. Just awesome."

I didn't notice that my sister stopped walking.

But I heard her clearly.

"You think those were special effects?"

I turned around.

"Of course. What else?"

"I told no-one," she insisted. "It was real."

At that point, I was still amused. How I couldn't I? She was sticking to her totally real ritual story a little longer than necessary. I shrugged and grinned. But the grin was wiped off my face soon enough. Imagine trying to remove make-up that wasn't there. Grabbing for a wig cap, but only finding long natural hair. Opening your dress only to find your brassier filled with real breast tissue instead of cherry stone filled bags.

I had turned into a woman.

Down to the last detail.

And I hadn't even noticed it.

Lost in a ritual that I thought was just play pretend.

Imagine my panic growing as I rifled through the things that I had left in the car. My driving license was made out to a female version of myself. A new name already was chosen for me. And the little line "sex: female" was like a nail in my coffin. Next, I unlocked my phone, only to get a new shock. The group shot with friends that I had set as background had changed. All my friends remained the same, but my likeness was changed. I was a girl there too. Every other picture on my phone altered in the same way.

The drive home was a quiet one.

We both shocked about what had transpired.

All our lives, we had play pretended witches were real.

But had we really believed in it? No.

It was early in the morning. Maybe around 2 AM when we arrived home. Both of us exhausted. There was this vague hope that everything would turn back to normal after a good night of sleep. But the witches weren't done with us yet. Or more specifically a certain witch. She waited for us as we came home.

"Took you long enough," was the first thing she said. "Youth these days."

Of course, we had questions.

Turned out we were after all witch initiates. But not actual witches.

We needed a teacher, and she was it.

The harshest lecture came soon.

"Of course, you are a woman? Why wouldn't you be?" As we told her that I used to be a man she became thoughtful. "Those before us, witches of the past, wouldn't make a mistake like that. There had to be a reason why they changed you. No witch would change a living being without reason. Unless- Did you present yourself as a woman?"

And there it was.

The big mistake.

The lie so old that I never doubted it.

Now I could say "See, sister? Men can be witches too. I don't have to dress up to play with you in the witch club."

But what would that do in hindsight?

I couldn't go back. To be asking to be changed back would be a disgrace to the witches of the past. They had given me a gift. Who was I to reject it? Not to mention that life goes on. And it wasn't so bad being a woman. At least for the small-time that I had been one. Of course, for everyone else, I had always been one. Even my parents only remembered me as one.

That's why no one believes me.

You probably won't believe me either.

I have no proof and who believes in magic anyway?

I know I didn't.

Sorry, I have to go now. Time is running short and my new teacher expects me over at her house. I may not be one hundred percent sold on being a woman, but being a witch is awesome. Way better than Hogwarts.

Maybe one day you will be a witch too.

It starts with believing.

Until then.

Hello readers,

Cassy Bee here.
I was recently pointed to a witch by a friend.
Said it was right in my wheelhouse. She guessed right.

I did a little interview and got a great story.
As it was fairly sentimental I decided my usual writing style wouldn't do.

So I "borrowed" Enemy Of Fun's style as an experiment.
How well it worked?
You tell me in the comments.

Hugs and kisses,
Cassy