suposedly a nice picnix

The picnic starts like any other in our lawn, first there’s my mother, the Oracle calmly instructing Andrew to eat, the teen werewolf just rolls his eyes and looks at Benjamin, our middle child, who’s delicate fae features frown ignoring him.

Suddenly baby Matthew begins to cry, our little alien startling us, still not quite used to living among earthlings.

Dad’s magic wand stops seasoning the barbecue once he notices my presence and smiles.

Which brings us back to me, just back from college, the intelligent human and eldest daughter.

A spot of average in their sea of brilliance.

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