Disclaimer: (Talking to FBI) I DIDN'T DO IT! I PUT A DISCLAIMER ON ALL MY
THINGS! PROMISE! I always say this. I do not own the Ninja Turtles. See?
I can't believe I'm starting a new story! Too many idea's at one time. Must ration out in small amounts. Bad Daydream! And I am not putting down orphanages in this story, I've never even been to one. It's just a story.
Hi! My name's Sammy. Well, technically it's Samantha Lee Kelly, but everyone calls me Sam or Sammy so you might as well also. Um, I'm SUPPOSED to write down a description of myself so here it goes. I'm five feet even. My hair's a dark red color and is about six inches below my shoulders. It's extremely wavy. I weigh exactly 107 lbs. My eyes are an okay looking green color, sorta like pine tree needles. I'm an orphan since three months ago when my parents were killed. It still hurts to think about that. I guess it always will. Anywho, I'm fifteen and somewhere out there, well we'll get to that later. The newest place I've lived is in the sewers of New York with the strangest people I've ever met. I should probably start at the beginning.
When my parents died, I didn't have any family members that wanted me so I was shipped off to an orphanage. I stayed there for about two weeks, but during those two weeks I was an outcast. It seems that orphans don't like other orphans who have actually met their parents. Consoling myself with the idea that I was going to escape, I survived through the pushes and hits. I planned it all down to the exact place I was going. Then I executed it. The night before I left, one of the girls pushed me down the stairs. I twisted my ankle, but the orphanage manager didn't care. That night I went to bed, sobbing softly to myself. 'Tomorrow will be the day.' I remember thinking to myself. The next morning, when we were taking a field trip I slipped away from the group, not looking back once. I was driven on by the fear that the manager Mrs. O'Dell might have sent the police after me. A ran down 5th street and didn't stop until I was too tired to carry on. I curled up in a cardboard box and fell asleep. The pain of my twisted ankle bothered me, but at least I was free now.
The next day I began my search. I was looking for my older sister. That was a pretty stupid idea I guess, but I was determined. You see, when my mother was sixteen she had a daughter with my father. (It wasn't me it was my older sister.) Thinking that they were too young to have a child, so they gave her up to an orphanage. Later on when my mother was twenty-seven, they had me. I was about twelve when we moved north to New York. Oh yeah, I should probably tell you where we used to live which was the Tennessee mountains. My mom used to tell me all about my sister, describing her all the way down to her littlest toe. She'd tell me they'd called her Red because of the bright red hair that covered her small head. I'd laugh and smile when my mom would ruffle my hair and say the same to me. Hmm. Okay, back to the real story. After searching all day long for a sister that I didn't even know what her real name was, I'd go back to my box and sleep. This went on for about a month, until it started to get cold. When October rolled around, I began going to soup kitchens. They were always nice and they would give me new clothes whenever I asked, but I had a fear that they would force me to go back to an orphanage so I didn't ever stay long. Out on the streets, I learned to defend myself from child-murderers and the scum of the earth. When I was alone in my box at night, nursing my wounds from the day's fight, I'd think of things I had never thought of before. Like, no matter how bad your parents are you should be thankful you have them. And be thankful that you have a coat cause I didn't.
One night it began to rain. Sure it had rained before, but this type of rain made me think that flash floods were coming. My box started to disintegrate so I got up and tried to find somewhere else to stay for the night. I searched for at least three hours, until, giving up hope, I sat down in the back of a dark alley. 'This is it.' I thought and pulled my drenched soup kitchen blanket around me. I fought to stay awake, but the freezing cold air mixed with the sleet like rain, combing together to penetrate my last line of defense. I kept getting hotter than the Sahara and then colder than the Artic. Finally I allowed the darkness that was creeping into the edges of my eyes to take me. I felt my body slump over in heap and that was it.
When I finally woke up my vision was blurred, but I could have sworn that I saw a green something hovering over me. I watched as it bent and carefully picked me up. I couldn't even lift a hand to defend myself. Helpless, all I could do was pray that the person wasn't going to do something to me. I looked up into its face and to my surprise, saw great concern. It put me down for a few minutes so it could pry a nearby manhole cover off. Suddenly I remembered something a beggar had told me. "There's things that live in the sewers, pet." She said. "They protect the weak and helpless. Go there whenever you are in trouble." I had taken her as being crazy, but now it seemed that her advice was more a reality than her. Gentle hands picked me up, cradling me like a small child. "Don't be afraid." It said. "I'm not." I whispered to it and fell back into the awaiting black void.
I can't believe I'm starting a new story! Too many idea's at one time. Must ration out in small amounts. Bad Daydream! And I am not putting down orphanages in this story, I've never even been to one. It's just a story.
Hi! My name's Sammy. Well, technically it's Samantha Lee Kelly, but everyone calls me Sam or Sammy so you might as well also. Um, I'm SUPPOSED to write down a description of myself so here it goes. I'm five feet even. My hair's a dark red color and is about six inches below my shoulders. It's extremely wavy. I weigh exactly 107 lbs. My eyes are an okay looking green color, sorta like pine tree needles. I'm an orphan since three months ago when my parents were killed. It still hurts to think about that. I guess it always will. Anywho, I'm fifteen and somewhere out there, well we'll get to that later. The newest place I've lived is in the sewers of New York with the strangest people I've ever met. I should probably start at the beginning.
When my parents died, I didn't have any family members that wanted me so I was shipped off to an orphanage. I stayed there for about two weeks, but during those two weeks I was an outcast. It seems that orphans don't like other orphans who have actually met their parents. Consoling myself with the idea that I was going to escape, I survived through the pushes and hits. I planned it all down to the exact place I was going. Then I executed it. The night before I left, one of the girls pushed me down the stairs. I twisted my ankle, but the orphanage manager didn't care. That night I went to bed, sobbing softly to myself. 'Tomorrow will be the day.' I remember thinking to myself. The next morning, when we were taking a field trip I slipped away from the group, not looking back once. I was driven on by the fear that the manager Mrs. O'Dell might have sent the police after me. A ran down 5th street and didn't stop until I was too tired to carry on. I curled up in a cardboard box and fell asleep. The pain of my twisted ankle bothered me, but at least I was free now.
The next day I began my search. I was looking for my older sister. That was a pretty stupid idea I guess, but I was determined. You see, when my mother was sixteen she had a daughter with my father. (It wasn't me it was my older sister.) Thinking that they were too young to have a child, so they gave her up to an orphanage. Later on when my mother was twenty-seven, they had me. I was about twelve when we moved north to New York. Oh yeah, I should probably tell you where we used to live which was the Tennessee mountains. My mom used to tell me all about my sister, describing her all the way down to her littlest toe. She'd tell me they'd called her Red because of the bright red hair that covered her small head. I'd laugh and smile when my mom would ruffle my hair and say the same to me. Hmm. Okay, back to the real story. After searching all day long for a sister that I didn't even know what her real name was, I'd go back to my box and sleep. This went on for about a month, until it started to get cold. When October rolled around, I began going to soup kitchens. They were always nice and they would give me new clothes whenever I asked, but I had a fear that they would force me to go back to an orphanage so I didn't ever stay long. Out on the streets, I learned to defend myself from child-murderers and the scum of the earth. When I was alone in my box at night, nursing my wounds from the day's fight, I'd think of things I had never thought of before. Like, no matter how bad your parents are you should be thankful you have them. And be thankful that you have a coat cause I didn't.
One night it began to rain. Sure it had rained before, but this type of rain made me think that flash floods were coming. My box started to disintegrate so I got up and tried to find somewhere else to stay for the night. I searched for at least three hours, until, giving up hope, I sat down in the back of a dark alley. 'This is it.' I thought and pulled my drenched soup kitchen blanket around me. I fought to stay awake, but the freezing cold air mixed with the sleet like rain, combing together to penetrate my last line of defense. I kept getting hotter than the Sahara and then colder than the Artic. Finally I allowed the darkness that was creeping into the edges of my eyes to take me. I felt my body slump over in heap and that was it.
When I finally woke up my vision was blurred, but I could have sworn that I saw a green something hovering over me. I watched as it bent and carefully picked me up. I couldn't even lift a hand to defend myself. Helpless, all I could do was pray that the person wasn't going to do something to me. I looked up into its face and to my surprise, saw great concern. It put me down for a few minutes so it could pry a nearby manhole cover off. Suddenly I remembered something a beggar had told me. "There's things that live in the sewers, pet." She said. "They protect the weak and helpless. Go there whenever you are in trouble." I had taken her as being crazy, but now it seemed that her advice was more a reality than her. Gentle hands picked me up, cradling me like a small child. "Don't be afraid." It said. "I'm not." I whispered to it and fell back into the awaiting black void.