Portal
Fervently, I packed up my things in a small duffel bag. I had heard them in their negotiations earlier in the night, when they thought I was asleep in the my scratchy and stained cotton sheets. The runner of the foster home, Ms. Dinkleberry (don't let the innocent “plump fairy gnome thing” name fool you. She is vicious despite her plump body and rosy cheeks. I advise you to stay away from her) was talking on the phone. To a research company. The conversation went like this:
RING!
She looked away from her desks computer screen, picked up the old rustic phone, and in her bored, robotic voice she recited just as she had so many times before:
“hello, this is dinkleberry foster home for children, what may I do for you?”
Now, the only reason why I could hear the other side of the phone was because, out of curiosity and habit to see if anyone was interested in adopting me or any of the other kids, I had set up a strange system of a phone I found in a dumpster, some wires, and connected that to the land line hid it under pillow, etc. So I picked up the brown, plastic phone and silently eavesdropped.
The person on the other line spoke cleanly with perfect grammar, in a deep masculine voice
“Ms. Dinkleberry, It is our greatest wish that we may take in miss Bailey Brimstone.”
I nearly dropped the phone onto the cold floor and bit back a yell of joy. For years I had wanted a family!
“May I ask who this is?”
“This is GSGL research labs.”
Okay, so maybe they weren't exactly a family.
“I've told you before guys, I won't sell her over for research unless its a good price.” The dinkleberry taunted.
Huh. Somehow their phone call slipped by before me. And selling me? To a research lab? I never liked Ms. Dinkleberry, I always though of her as mean, but not sinisterly evil and the type of person who would sell a kid to a scientist for research. This was getting interesting.
“We are offering $1 million.”
“DEAL!” She her wooden chair clattered noisily as she leapt into the air and nearly shrieked as she clutched the phone tightly.
“but before we conclude this decision, we will ask you some questions.”
“Fire away!” she giggled gleefully
“Is bailey in shape?”
“yes, why?”
“well, she will be going through some physically taxing DNA testing. Is she claustrophobic”
“No, why?”
“She will be living in a glass capsule for the next ten years. Thank you. We will pick her up tomorrow at noon.”
Great. My new “family” wants to do testing on me and keep me in a glass tube for the next ten years. Not going to happen.
So anyway, I'm packing my duffel back right now, its got barely anything in it. Lightweight blanket, water bottle I pilfered from the kitchen, spare change of clothes, $10 dollars, and that's about it. I sit down gently on the squeaky springs of my bed and sighed. Maybe I am being a little impulsive. I mean, maybe the police are on the case and I won't be picked up by GSGL. Maybe The Dinkleberry will have an astounding change of heart and pity me and not sell me. But whats the chance of any of those events?
My tennis shoes lightly tap the wood floor as I stand up fifteen minutes later. Padding out to the hallway, I press my head against the wooden door and listen for any sign of any other kids out, or Ms. Dinkleberry. All I hear is the old house moaning as it shifts, almost as if the weight of so many kids over so many years is finally beginning to take a toll on it. My slender fingers grasp the cold doorknob and slowly twist it towards the right. I flinch when I can turn it no more. I almost hoped that it would begin to turn endlessly as foolish as that sounds, and that I would have all the time in the world to escape. But time is running out. I sneak a glance at my blue digital watch. Black numbers don't lie. It's 4:30 am. I inhale shakily and collect myself. Why am I so nervous? I mean, hundreds of times I have crept out of my room and headed outside to hear the crickets chirp and the birds voice a song of comfort, why should this be any different? I slowly creep onto the wooden planks, then gain speed as I slide by other kids doors. I move swiftly, a shadow. The gaping hole at the end of the hallway yawns into the kitchen and dining room, beckoning me forward. Suddenly the lights flood on “Oh, you think you are gonna escape miss? Not happening” I look back, Ms. Dinkleberry is there, breaking into a lumbering jog. Feeling panicked and trapped, I break into a sprint for the main door and jostle its lock forcefully. She is gaining on me. The lock clicks and I explode out into the night and glance over my shoulder as I race along the grass towards the forest and fields, Ms. Dinkleberry is there in the doorway, her dark figure illuminated by lights as she raises her fist and shrieks “You may be faster than me, but I'm calling them and they will get you! Oh, don't you worry!” Her voice grows fainter into the night as I pull away.
Mist blankets the fields and dew drops scrape against my jeans. I Hugged my green sweat shirt tightly as my drenched tennis shoes squelched along. Walking along the highway next to some cornfields, I begin to devise a plan. My main priority is avoid GSGL and survive. Second priority is to find out why GSGL wanted me so bad. Third priority is live happily ever after. Scratch that. Like I'll ever live happily ever after. My third priority is to live a comfortable life. So back to the first priority, Avoid GSGL and survive.
In large cities, nobody will notice me that much, but there is much more law enforcement and that's where they will look first. Small towns notice change in an instant and alert authorities. Medium sized towns get the best of both worlds. Abruptly, a semi truck careened past me, startling me out of my thoughts and to the point where I desperately dove into the corn field, pleading that the driver didn't see me. The stalks crumpled beneath me leaving an indent as I stood up. If I am going to survive, I have to be less wary and more alert for things like that.
A gnawing sensation clawed at my stomach, demanding food about four hours later. Even that bland mush served at the foster home sounded okay now, but no way was I heading back. I had traveled out of sight between endless rows of corn and had just broken out if it, prepared to go around a barn and into the next one. Instead, a carnival awaited me. Cars straddled the ditch and highway. Bright flags and signs advertised the sale in front of me. The ten dollars in my bag tickled me to search for any thing useful.
I forced myself to casually walk along the musty dark rows int the back of the large old shed, only a few rays of sun broke in through the windows up above giving off just enough light for me to see the Flimsy old boxes spilling into the isle, displaying their contents. Some held old plates, others contained glass figurines. Nothing in them was useful. Time to try the front of the shed.
Only a slight ruffling did I make as I pulled my hoodie over my head so nobody will see me . Scanning the room quickly, I nearly passed up a small glint. A knife. I surged forward and nearly barreled into a little girl “Hey!” She yelped in surprise. “I am so sorry!” I exclaimed in concern. “Fine.” She traced her toe in the concrete shyly, but then suddenly pulled her chin up and set it straight “It's... Fine.” she mustered. I Smiled as silent thank you as I slipped past her and towards the knife.
It wasn't just a knife in that box. It was a whole knife box basically. Searching carefully, I pulled out an almost brand new knife. A beautiful tan leather case held it's silvery gleam. The handle on it held an intricate design of swirls and lines. It's blade tingled when I lightly touched it, and a small droplet of blood swelled up from its sharpness. The price was only 50 cents.Next to the box, laying on a bench was a flint and steel. Might need that to cook food, and heck, 20 cents isn't going to kill me. I picked up both items and brought them to a table up front where and old man sat in an old chair. He had his work boots up on the table and leaned far back in that chair as he read the paper. I cleared my throat. “Sir, I would like to buy these two items.” He glanced up over the top of his paper, grunted, then looked back down. I tried again. “Here, the knife is only 50 cents, the flint and steel only 20. Seventy cents total” I laid the knife and the flint and steel down in front of him, Four dimes, a quarter, and a nickel followed shortly. He sighed and put his paper down. “Just take them. No cost. None of the tourists are going to buy 'em anyway. They're more interested in the trinkets and cutesy stuff,” He gestured towards a herd of old ladies fingering through the jewelry “those things been sitting back there collectin' dust. Take them. You'll be doing me a favor.” With that, he snatched up his paper and resumed like nothing had happened. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” I chocked as I backed out. Maybe there was some goodness in the world after all.
RING!
She looked away from her desks computer screen, picked up the old rustic phone, and in her bored, robotic voice she recited just as she had so many times before:
“hello, this is dinkleberry foster home for children, what may I do for you?”
Now, the only reason why I could hear the other side of the phone was because, out of curiosity and habit to see if anyone was interested in adopting me or any of the other kids, I had set up a strange system of a phone I found in a dumpster, some wires, and connected that to the land line hid it under pillow, etc. So I picked up the brown, plastic phone and silently eavesdropped.
The person on the other line spoke cleanly with perfect grammar, in a deep masculine voice
“Ms. Dinkleberry, It is our greatest wish that we may take in miss Bailey Brimstone.”
I nearly dropped the phone onto the cold floor and bit back a yell of joy. For years I had wanted a family!
“May I ask who this is?”
“This is GSGL research labs.”
Okay, so maybe they weren't exactly a family.
“I've told you before guys, I won't sell her over for research unless its a good price.” The dinkleberry taunted.
Huh. Somehow their phone call slipped by before me. And selling me? To a research lab? I never liked Ms. Dinkleberry, I always though of her as mean, but not sinisterly evil and the type of person who would sell a kid to a scientist for research. This was getting interesting.
“We are offering $1 million.”
“DEAL!” She her wooden chair clattered noisily as she leapt into the air and nearly shrieked as she clutched the phone tightly.
“but before we conclude this decision, we will ask you some questions.”
“Fire away!” she giggled gleefully
“Is bailey in shape?”
“yes, why?”
“well, she will be going through some physically taxing DNA testing. Is she claustrophobic”
“No, why?”
“She will be living in a glass capsule for the next ten years. Thank you. We will pick her up tomorrow at noon.”
Great. My new “family” wants to do testing on me and keep me in a glass tube for the next ten years. Not going to happen.
So anyway, I'm packing my duffel back right now, its got barely anything in it. Lightweight blanket, water bottle I pilfered from the kitchen, spare change of clothes, $10 dollars, and that's about it. I sit down gently on the squeaky springs of my bed and sighed. Maybe I am being a little impulsive. I mean, maybe the police are on the case and I won't be picked up by GSGL. Maybe The Dinkleberry will have an astounding change of heart and pity me and not sell me. But whats the chance of any of those events?
My tennis shoes lightly tap the wood floor as I stand up fifteen minutes later. Padding out to the hallway, I press my head against the wooden door and listen for any sign of any other kids out, or Ms. Dinkleberry. All I hear is the old house moaning as it shifts, almost as if the weight of so many kids over so many years is finally beginning to take a toll on it. My slender fingers grasp the cold doorknob and slowly twist it towards the right. I flinch when I can turn it no more. I almost hoped that it would begin to turn endlessly as foolish as that sounds, and that I would have all the time in the world to escape. But time is running out. I sneak a glance at my blue digital watch. Black numbers don't lie. It's 4:30 am. I inhale shakily and collect myself. Why am I so nervous? I mean, hundreds of times I have crept out of my room and headed outside to hear the crickets chirp and the birds voice a song of comfort, why should this be any different? I slowly creep onto the wooden planks, then gain speed as I slide by other kids doors. I move swiftly, a shadow. The gaping hole at the end of the hallway yawns into the kitchen and dining room, beckoning me forward. Suddenly the lights flood on “Oh, you think you are gonna escape miss? Not happening” I look back, Ms. Dinkleberry is there, breaking into a lumbering jog. Feeling panicked and trapped, I break into a sprint for the main door and jostle its lock forcefully. She is gaining on me. The lock clicks and I explode out into the night and glance over my shoulder as I race along the grass towards the forest and fields, Ms. Dinkleberry is there in the doorway, her dark figure illuminated by lights as she raises her fist and shrieks “You may be faster than me, but I'm calling them and they will get you! Oh, don't you worry!” Her voice grows fainter into the night as I pull away.
Mist blankets the fields and dew drops scrape against my jeans. I Hugged my green sweat shirt tightly as my drenched tennis shoes squelched along. Walking along the highway next to some cornfields, I begin to devise a plan. My main priority is avoid GSGL and survive. Second priority is to find out why GSGL wanted me so bad. Third priority is live happily ever after. Scratch that. Like I'll ever live happily ever after. My third priority is to live a comfortable life. So back to the first priority, Avoid GSGL and survive.
In large cities, nobody will notice me that much, but there is much more law enforcement and that's where they will look first. Small towns notice change in an instant and alert authorities. Medium sized towns get the best of both worlds. Abruptly, a semi truck careened past me, startling me out of my thoughts and to the point where I desperately dove into the corn field, pleading that the driver didn't see me. The stalks crumpled beneath me leaving an indent as I stood up. If I am going to survive, I have to be less wary and more alert for things like that.
A gnawing sensation clawed at my stomach, demanding food about four hours later. Even that bland mush served at the foster home sounded okay now, but no way was I heading back. I had traveled out of sight between endless rows of corn and had just broken out if it, prepared to go around a barn and into the next one. Instead, a carnival awaited me. Cars straddled the ditch and highway. Bright flags and signs advertised the sale in front of me. The ten dollars in my bag tickled me to search for any thing useful.
I forced myself to casually walk along the musty dark rows int the back of the large old shed, only a few rays of sun broke in through the windows up above giving off just enough light for me to see the Flimsy old boxes spilling into the isle, displaying their contents. Some held old plates, others contained glass figurines. Nothing in them was useful. Time to try the front of the shed.
Only a slight ruffling did I make as I pulled my hoodie over my head so nobody will see me . Scanning the room quickly, I nearly passed up a small glint. A knife. I surged forward and nearly barreled into a little girl “Hey!” She yelped in surprise. “I am so sorry!” I exclaimed in concern. “Fine.” She traced her toe in the concrete shyly, but then suddenly pulled her chin up and set it straight “It's... Fine.” she mustered. I Smiled as silent thank you as I slipped past her and towards the knife.
It wasn't just a knife in that box. It was a whole knife box basically. Searching carefully, I pulled out an almost brand new knife. A beautiful tan leather case held it's silvery gleam. The handle on it held an intricate design of swirls and lines. It's blade tingled when I lightly touched it, and a small droplet of blood swelled up from its sharpness. The price was only 50 cents.Next to the box, laying on a bench was a flint and steel. Might need that to cook food, and heck, 20 cents isn't going to kill me. I picked up both items and brought them to a table up front where and old man sat in an old chair. He had his work boots up on the table and leaned far back in that chair as he read the paper. I cleared my throat. “Sir, I would like to buy these two items.” He glanced up over the top of his paper, grunted, then looked back down. I tried again. “Here, the knife is only 50 cents, the flint and steel only 20. Seventy cents total” I laid the knife and the flint and steel down in front of him, Four dimes, a quarter, and a nickel followed shortly. He sighed and put his paper down. “Just take them. No cost. None of the tourists are going to buy 'em anyway. They're more interested in the trinkets and cutesy stuff,” He gestured towards a herd of old ladies fingering through the jewelry “those things been sitting back there collectin' dust. Take them. You'll be doing me a favor.” With that, he snatched up his paper and resumed like nothing had happened. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” I chocked as I backed out. Maybe there was some goodness in the world after all.
Last edited by maplewind on Fri Jul 12, 2013 10:31 pm; edited 1 time in total
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