I found abandoned twin girls in the forest and took them home. The next morning, I was shocked by what they did to my daughter.

gently. “I’m Willow,” said the first twin.

“And I’m Isabelle,” added her sister, gripping Willow’s hand tighter. “How old are you both?”

“Nine,” they answered in unison. Max whined softly, nudging one of the girls’ hands with his nose.

They smiled and patted his head. I couldn’t leave them out here. The temperature was dropping fast, and the forecast warned of an incoming storm.

Social services wouldn’t be open until morning anyway, I thought. I think I should take them home. “Come with me,” I said gently.

“I’ll get you warm, and we’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

They exchanged a look, having one of those silent conversations I’d heard twins sometimes share. Finally, they nodded and stood up. Back home, I heated up some chicken noodle soup and wrapped them in warm blankets.

They sat at my kitchen table, spooning the soup carefully into their mouths. I set up the guest room with fresh sheets and extra blankets as I thought about what to do in the morning. Emma was asleep, and I decided to wait until tomorrow to explain everything to her.

I didn’t know how she’d react upon seeing them. The twins barely spoke as I showed them to their room, but I caught them whispering to each other as I was about to leave. “Goodnight girls,” I said and closed the door behind me.

That night, I lay awake for hours, listening to the wind howl outside. I knew I should call social services first thing in the morning, but something about these girls tugged at my heart. Little did I know, the next day would bring a surprise that would change everything.

The next morning, I woke up to strange noises coming from Emma’s room. I listened closely and heard soft thuds and muffled giggles. What’s going on?

I wondered. Is it… is it the twins? Panic shot through me as I thought about what Emma must have felt upon seeing them.

What if they scared her? Or worse? I bolted down the hall and flung the door open.

“What are you doing?! Don’t touch her!” I shouted. The twins looked at me with eyes wide open.

They were standing beside Emma’s bed, draped in makeshift costumes. They had tied my silk scarves as capes around their shoulders and one of them was holding a cardboard wand covered in aluminum foil. But what made me stop in my tracks was Emma.

My daughter, who hadn’t smiled or laughed in months, was sitting up in bed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Mom, look!” Emma giggled, pointing at the twins. “They’re doing a magic show for me!

Willow’s the good witch, and Isabelle’s the fairy princess!”

I wanted to cry at that point. You see, I’d watched cancer drain the energy from my baby girl for almost a year. The treatments had taken her strength, and she barely spoke on most days.Continue reading…