>…I’m not exactly sure how to start this… let’s see… Dear Diary-no that’s not cool at all… how about Dear Journal… that’s still lame… how about I just dive right into it? Ya, that sounds good.

My name is Spencer Roberts and I am 20 years old. I am writing this journal because something strange happened to me and since it has been going on for the past 7 years or so I figured I should keep track of the important parts. The first important part: I have magic powers.

Well, o.k., they’re not REAL magic powers… at least I don’t think so. You see, when I was in the eighth grade I was a punk. I’m not talking about those kids who hang around other big, tough kids, either. I was a real punk. Everything I could find that was different or odd about another, smaller kid I exploited to it’s fullest extent. I made up nicknames, locked kids in their lockers, and gave out so many atomic wedgies my hands smelled like- uh, underwear. I was the big, tough kids, and I wasn’t even that big. I made fun of jocks, band geeks, goths, emo kids, you name the click and I made fun of them. I even had my own band of followers. There was Chuck, Dave, “Crazy-Chris”, and “Lighter.” Needless to say Chris was crazy and “Lighter” always had a cigarette lighter on him… oddly it was a different lighter every day… strange.

As you could probably tell, I was a big pain to all the kids at my school. I was a big pain to my teachers, too. I was even a big pain to my parents. I was just a big pain to everyone. I didn’t really care though. Why should I have? People liked me. They thought I was funny. I mean, they followed me around and waited for me to smart-off to the teachers. Why would they do that if they didn’t like me. And the kids I constantly made fun of….?

Well, there was this goth-chick who we called “Black Babay.” “Black” because she always wore black clothes, makeup, and even had black hair. “Babay” ’cause she was smokin’ hot! Of course we were always making fun of her, like we did to anyone else, but I guess we were also attracted to her a little bit. And I guess it kinda made me mad that she didn’t like me. However, I came to find out that she definitely was affected by our teasing. She didn’t come up and tell me or plead for me to leave her alone. No, she cursed me…with the Bible!

That’s right! She was a witch of sorts. Except she gathered all of her power from the Bible; King James Version. It was odd, the way it happened. She walked up to us and said something right to my face. I don’t remember what she said because it was in a different language, but I do remember what happened next. First she spit in my face, then she threw some black powder at me and began to spin around in a circle. Then she said, “be cursed with justice,” and whacked me with a palm leaf. She immediately ran away and we immediately began laughing our butts off. We were totally stunned and completely amazed that she was able to tie her shoes in the morning, much less curse anyone. Imagine my surprise when I awoke the next morning and felt sick to my stomach. Instantly I blamed that stupid goth weirdo. I was sick for three days and the doctor couldn’t tell why. I knew. “Black Babay!”

When I finally got to school on the fourth day after my little surprise cursing I was out for revenge. Whatever that black powder was it made me sick and she was gonna pay. So I tracked down “Black Babay” and cornered her under the bleachers. She was gonna get it! And no, I didn’t care that she was a girl! So I picked my hand up and held her at the neck, raised my other hand high, curled my fist tightly and… began to tremble…? I couldn’t punch her!?! When she told me that I was hurting her neck, my hand instinctively let go of her and she was able to escape my terror by just walking away from me. And to top it off, irony allowed me to punch right into a steel beam. Needless to say something strange was happening and this goth-girl was behind it.

Later that day I found that I could not call people names, I could not pin kids in their lockers, and I could not give wedgies! I even found myself being nice to teachers! It was fine that first day because I could shove tasks onto my subordinate followers. The next day, however, it was much more difficult to get through the day because I also found myself upset that my friends were treating people with such injustice.

I confronted “Black Babay” again… but this time a little more calmly. She told me that she cursed me with the inability to cause injustice. She said the curse would also make me take any injustice that I see personally. I told her to undo the curse but she replied, and I quote, “only the sound of a million injustices righted by the unjust can relieve the cursed of their passion for justice.” I only remember it because a) it’s my cure, and b) she had to repeat it to me about a dozen times before it sank in.

The first thing that popped into my head: make right one million wrongs…easier said than done.

Even though I had done my fair share of bullying in the past, and may have deserved what I got, things were about to get worse. Not only was I forced to be nice to people by this curse, but the curse had a hidden agenda that not even “Black Babay” knew about.

I began to walk home from school taking the route through the back alleys of the city. I didn’t want people to see me. My friends had already turned against me, and my parents and teachers thought that I either needed counseling or a miracle had happened. While walking through a field I found a guy pressing some lady against the ground while going through her purse. Suddenly I heard someone yell, “get off of her you dirt bag!” As he turned and looked in my direction I realized that it was my voice I had heard! What the heck was I doing!?! This guy had a gun! What did I think I was going to do? He began to approach me, gun in hand, and right as he was about to fire a bullet in my skull I knelt down, curled my fist and gave this guy an uppercut that threw him so high in the air he landed on the roof of a nearby building. As I grabbed my hand the lady stared at me in amazement. She walked over to me and was only able to whisper, “so brave… thank you very much.” She then ran off as if she had seen a ghost. Of course, I didn’t blame her. If it wasn’t myself that just punched a guy across a field and 40-some feet into the air, I would’ve ran too.

So, I have magic powers, or at least some super human strength. I have struggled for the past 7 years to keep this under control. You see, sometimes, when I witness an injustice happening, my body gets kinda gross-looking. It kinda resembles those body builders you see on TV that need to stop body building. Except I am very limber. This poses a problem when I’m out in public… especially in the daytime… and in the middle of the mall. Although it took me seven years I have got it under control… for the most part. And as for “Black Babay” or as she prefers I call her, Katy, she cleaned up and became a veterinarian. She stills knows her little spells, but she doesn’t really practice them anymore. Apparently she isn’t on God’s good side.

I am cursed, searching for a cure, and helping people whenever I can -er, when ever the curse makes me. I believe that I’ve done my time for my crimes, but obviously some higher power thinks otherwise.

Well, that’s all I can think of right now. Just wanted to keep track of the things that have happened to me in the past so others will know my story if the curse decides to let go the one time I need it’s protection. It’s funny how I go out looking to right wrongs now. Hmm…

Well, I need sleep so I’m gonna sign off now. I’ll probably write more as it happens and I will definitely keep track of new occurrences.