What Happens to the Innocent Children
Disclaimer
If I owned these Characters (aside from the ones you don't recognize) I probably wouldn't be writing these. If I owned these characters, you would probably see this story on the show. Hey! You know what? I am writing these and you don't see this story line on the show, therefore, I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS!!! So don't sue me!
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The dark streets gave an eerie felling as the little girl ran through the streets. It was still light outside, but she felt so alone and scared that it felt dark to her. Normally dark streets don't scare her. She had lived on the streets before. But that was when she had known where she was going. But her new foster family lived in the suburbs, almost the hills. She didn't know where she was. It was getting cold, and she was hungry. She looked at her watch. It was almost five. It would be dark soon. The little girl wished that she hadn't left her foster family, but they didn't understand her there. They thought her a freak. She needed to be alone. Her gifts were sometimes dangerous. "Maybe I shoulda told Ms. Matthews about my gifts." She muttered to herself. The streets were empty now. There were no cars, and she saw no structures anywhere. But there was still a road, meaning there had to be more than nothing farther down. Taking a quick break on a rock, the girl sat down to catch her breath. She held her stuffed bear close to her. Sometimes if she closed her eyes and used her imagination, she could still smell her mother. A car drove up, just a football field away, from the girl. Glad that she was in the shade, and wearing black, she crouched behind the rock.
"RACHEL?!?!?!" A voice called, as a car door opened. The girl recognized that voice; it was Mrs. Adam, her new foster mother. Panicked, she hid behind some trees. [I hope she doesn't catch me.] She silently prayed. The car door slammed shut, and the car drove off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Rachel began to run down the road. She often took paranoid glances over her shoulder for any approaching car. Darkness was fast approaching, and Rachel knew it. She knew that once it was dark, she needed to find a place to sleep. Exhausted, she made her way up the steep hill. Standing at the top, she looked out over the landscape. She could see parts of the city lights. She did a full three sixty. Something caught her eye on her left. It looked like a shed. Knowing that the road had not been traveled in a long time, she went towards it, hoping that it could be a place for her to stay. As she got closer, she noticed that the shed was not a shed after all, but a garage, with a large house right next to it. No lights were on in the house. Rachel went carefully up the porch steps, and peeked into the window. It looked like no one had lived there for many years. Slowly, Rachel opened the door.
"Hello?" She called out. Her voice echoed throughout the empty house. Satisfied, she laid down, tired from her day's journey. She used the old stuffed bear as a pillow and instantly fell fast asleep.
Disclaimer
If I owned these Characters (aside from the ones you don't recognize) I probably wouldn't be writing these. If I owned these characters, you would probably see this story on the show. Hey! You know what? I am writing these and you don't see this story line on the show, therefore, I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS!!! So don't sue me!
************************************************************************
The dark streets gave an eerie felling as the little girl ran through the streets. It was still light outside, but she felt so alone and scared that it felt dark to her. Normally dark streets don't scare her. She had lived on the streets before. But that was when she had known where she was going. But her new foster family lived in the suburbs, almost the hills. She didn't know where she was. It was getting cold, and she was hungry. She looked at her watch. It was almost five. It would be dark soon. The little girl wished that she hadn't left her foster family, but they didn't understand her there. They thought her a freak. She needed to be alone. Her gifts were sometimes dangerous. "Maybe I shoulda told Ms. Matthews about my gifts." She muttered to herself. The streets were empty now. There were no cars, and she saw no structures anywhere. But there was still a road, meaning there had to be more than nothing farther down. Taking a quick break on a rock, the girl sat down to catch her breath. She held her stuffed bear close to her. Sometimes if she closed her eyes and used her imagination, she could still smell her mother. A car drove up, just a football field away, from the girl. Glad that she was in the shade, and wearing black, she crouched behind the rock.
"RACHEL?!?!?!" A voice called, as a car door opened. The girl recognized that voice; it was Mrs. Adam, her new foster mother. Panicked, she hid behind some trees. [I hope she doesn't catch me.] She silently prayed. The car door slammed shut, and the car drove off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Rachel began to run down the road. She often took paranoid glances over her shoulder for any approaching car. Darkness was fast approaching, and Rachel knew it. She knew that once it was dark, she needed to find a place to sleep. Exhausted, she made her way up the steep hill. Standing at the top, she looked out over the landscape. She could see parts of the city lights. She did a full three sixty. Something caught her eye on her left. It looked like a shed. Knowing that the road had not been traveled in a long time, she went towards it, hoping that it could be a place for her to stay. As she got closer, she noticed that the shed was not a shed after all, but a garage, with a large house right next to it. No lights were on in the house. Rachel went carefully up the porch steps, and peeked into the window. It looked like no one had lived there for many years. Slowly, Rachel opened the door.
"Hello?" She called out. Her voice echoed throughout the empty house. Satisfied, she laid down, tired from her day's journey. She used the old stuffed bear as a pillow and instantly fell fast asleep.