This is a short bit I wrote with a longer story in mind. Just introducing a new character - Heather Sheer - who is my character and you may not steal. Unless you ask lol.
Southern Texas
The night was warm and humid, as was accustomed for the time of year. The Sheer family relaxed quietly at home, Mr. Sheer watching T.V. in the living-room, Mrs. Sheer washing dishes in the kitchen, and their three children in their rooms.
Suddenly a crash came from the front foyer. Glass crashed in the kitchen, and Mr. Sheer jumped from his chair and ran to the closet for his shotgun.
Three men stood at the front door wearing dark clothes and clutching bags. One man was already shoving items into his bag when Mr. Sheer burst forward, his gun pointed at the men. In a flash, the smaller of the men whipped out a gun and took aim at Mr. Sheer.
A tall, thin girl with long brown hair stood at the top of the stairs, startled, slate-grey eyes wide.
"Get out of my house," Mr. Sheer yelled at the intruders, gun unwavering.
The third man began skirting around the men already engaged, attempting to get behind a distracted Mr. Sheer. The girl saw this, looked around wildly, and, seeing no one else there, focused on what was happening below her. Wisps of charcoal grey swirled through her irises as she concentrated on the area beyond her open door into the darkness outside. Suddenly, a large shadowy shape grabbed the slinking man from behind. Another of these shapes grabbed the man holding the gun at her father.
The man who had been grabbing everything around him turned, looking terrified, and ran out the door just as two police cars pulled up.
Mr. Sheer's shotgun barrel dropped, his eyes wide as he stared around himself. Hiss eyes landed on his daughter, and suddenly understanding entered his face. Her eyes, now a dark charcoal color, focused intently, hands outstretched. As three poliemen stepped up, she let her arms fall, and the shadows faded away with the charcoal in her eyes. Mr. Sheer's brown eyes met with his daughter's grey ones before he was distracted by the police.
...
What was that, Heather?" Mr. Sheer asked his daughter, dangerously calm, after the police had left.
Mrs. Sheer sat with her two younger sons, looking confused.
Heather sat across the living-room, simply looking at her family as her father spoke. "How long have you been... How long have you known you're..."
"A mutant," Heather finally spoke.
At the word, her mother gasped and crossed herself.
"I've known for about two years now. Almost three," Heather went on.
The room was absolutely silent.
"I want you out," Mr. Sheer finally spoke, voice low.
A few more moments of silence.
Finally, heather stood from her seat and ran up the stairs to her room.
Clothes, books, photos, toiletries, notebooks and an iPod were thrown into a bag, and in only five minutes Heather was down the stairs and out the door, her bag in one hand and purse over the other shoulder. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she had to get away from that town.
On her way to the bus station, she passed the church she and her family attended every Sunday. It was a church that condemned mutants, proclaiming their evil. And this church wasn't the only one with these beliefs. A majority of them in the town taught families that mutants were sent by the devil to corrupt God's children.
No, this was not the town for Heather.
At the bus station, Heather looked to the schedule and chose a destination. "One ticket to Little Rock, please."
~/~/~
Just outside of Montreal
1,659 miles later, Heather sat in a lone diner outside Montreal. It was late and she was the only person in the diner while the bar was full of loud, mostly drunk men.
Heather sat at the counter, close to the shadows with her hood up and ears listening attentively for any trouble. She focused on the loud voices of the men, hoping none of them would cause trouble for her.
The door of the diner opened, letting cold wind into the room and causing Heather to wrap her fingers more tightly around her coffee cup. She was running short on money and only hoped she would have enough to get to Boston, where she planned on attempting to settle.
The person who walked in, a man, Heather noted, took a seat at the counter next to her. He ordered a cup of coffee while Heather observed him discreetly. He was a well built man, muscled and compact with dark hair. He glanced her way, his blue eyes looking to her travel bag.
After his coffee was set in front of him, he tuned toward Heather. "On a trip?" he asked, voice gruff.
Heather stayed silent for a moment before finally turning toward the man. "Somethin' like that," she responded.
"Where ya headed?"
Heather considered lying, but decided she had no reason to. "Boston."
"Yeah? Maybe you oughta consider New York."
"New York?"
"There's a place there you might be interested in. A place for people like us."
Heather put her guard up even more. "Like us?"
Mystery man set his piercing gaze on Heather. "Mutants."
Slate grey met midnight blue. Neither spoke.
Finally, the man stood. He set an envelope in front of Heather, dropped some money on the counter for his coffee, and walked out of the building.
Heather sat stunned for a moment. She then grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. Inside was a letter, addressed to Heather by name. Moments after reading, Heather stood, scooped up her things, and left the diner.
Her destination had just changed.