Notes: None of the characters recognized belong to me ( unfortunately ) I dug this story up from a few years back and decided to go through and re-edit it. Hope it will inspire somebody out there, even because you think you could do better. When I get some more time I'll type up some better stuff.

Tuesday 12th September 2005



Her face slid against the cold window frame against which the icy rain spat. watching the droplets trickle down the glass and join the rivers that flowed in sheets down the roof, onto the street below.

Xanthe shuddered shivers running down her back, however these did not come from the rain out side or the howling winds that twisted and forced their way in. Her long dark hair twisted it's way around her shoulders and down her back.

The sight of the girl was disturbing ; she was sobbing gently with a glazed look in her eyes staring blankly. Every few minutes another salty tear fell and mingled with the rain dripping from her hair, outside the sky was getting darker.

Most days she could deal with it but today . . . today had been different, from the moment she'd got up and opened her eyes things had gone wrong. The constant pain was still with her as always and caused her to forget her course work. Then the rain had started, which bled through everything pulling it all deep under the ground . Xanthe felt like she was sinking too, she didn't have the strength to pull her self up, sliding to the floor. Another rumble made her jump. She wrapped her arms tight around herself trying to feel anything but the storm.

Something in the shadows of the room stirred.Yet Xanthe took no notice. Wrapped up in her own emotions and the falling rain out side. The door slowly moved open letting a soft golden light fall.

Hey? Xanthe? A small voice quivered unsure whether to continue Xanthe mumbled something and the owner of the voice entered the room.

Xanthe let out a faint smile trying to show the 6 year old that it was okay.

You ok? Xanthe nodded it never failed to amaze her how sensitive and understanding these small kids could be You can come and play If you want

No, It's ok Xanthe whisper back, turning to see another figure I just had a bad day that's all

Xanthe come and join the rest down stairs, we all have bad days it's just learning to deal with them Sam was a year older than Xanthe and she'd been at the care home ever since she had turned five.

Why should I have to cover it up though ? Why can't I remember . . . Xanthe wined back knowing Sam was right just didn't want to believe it. Sighing heavily, smiling again at Sophie and wiping away a fresh tear she stood up shakily and followed the others. Trailing her feet and running her hand down the walls.

Miss went out, she told us you'd look after us a 10 year old boy ran up to Sam tugging at her shirt Tabra said we could play twister . . . can we? please?

Xanthe's face showed a mingled look of hatred and displeaser as she cast her eyes in to the room where a group crowded around an old TV. Sam didn't look to pleased either at being left in charge, she agreed to the game and began to pull out the mat. Xanthe crumpled on to a cushion and began to look at the TV lost once again in her own thoughts. Ruby watched puzzled wondering when the girl was going to accept this was her home and stop fighting it.

Xanthe struggled to come back from her misery as the cries surrounded her from the games played with the others she couldn't help feeling so alone. As If there was no reason for her being born at all, she thought swallowing quickly with out realizing it she began to drift into darkness. Suddenly her worries ceased to exist as she began to dream of when she had been happy . . . where she had belonged.

the cries where worried as they continued to get louder, however Xanthe still lay lost in her dreams. Sam shook her trying not to attract the other children who where already frantically gathering.

Is she ok?

What happening!

The children cries where high and terrified as they to began to shake at the limp body. Sam pulled Xanthe up on to the sofa and began to raise her legs staking cushions under them trying to make the blood flow to Xanthe's head.

Xanthe was unaware of all this going on as she saw in front of her the golden fields of her childhood ahead and began to break into a run; smelling the sweet hay and the strong scents from the red poppies growing in the hedgerows. Suddenly she felt safe and alive, this was where she belonged this.

And then a shrill scream filled the air . . . .