Michelle Allen was a regular sixteen year old girl. She lived in Los Angeles, California. Her family, consisting of six, thought of her as someone weird. Although, five of the family members were kids younger than she was. Michie was an orphan. Because of the recession, her parents did not have enough money to take care of her and up and left Michie and her dog, Poof. When the real estate agent went to check out the house, she found Michie, and took her to a foster home. Since then, Michie has lived with Ms. Calroy, Joseph, Mike, Sierra, Lisa, and Lola.

“Hey, Michie! Bring down my baseball bat, will you?” That voice was the one of her little brother, Mike. Mike was eight and very, very active. He was the one who gave Michelle her nickname, Michie. Michie walked into the hall and grabbed the bat that was lying near Mike’s door and walked down the stairs and handed it to him. “Thanks!” Mike said and ran outside with Joseph, the oldest.
Michie walked into the kitchen, smelling cookies. She saw Ms. Calroy in the kitchen, taking out a fresh batch of oatmeal raisin cookies. “Hello, Michelle. Want to be the first one to try my cookies?” Michie raised an eyebrow at Ms. Calroy’s use of her full name, for she only used it when something was wrong. Hesitantly Michie reached for a cookie and tasted it. It was warm and sweet and Michie swallowed it whole. “I want you to finish the macaroni, okay? The water is boiling on the stove.” Ms. Calroy left the kitchen and Michie walked over to the stove and reached over to get the shells for the macaroni. When she drew her hand back, a hanging string from her shirt caught the pot handle and she didn’t notice until the boiling hot spilled over her. Screaming at the pain, Michelle fell on floor. Her skin turned a bright red color and Ms. Calroy and Sierra ran in. They called the ambulance but by the time they got there, she was dead. And then she disappeared.











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“Jake, come on, man! Just try it!” Jacob Russo was with his friends on a Saturday afternoon. The troublemaker of the group, Damon, had brought his dad’s motorcycle with him. “I may be able to drive, Damon, but I’m not taking my chances on that,” Jake said, leaning against a café. He was seventeen, and loved cars. “Jake!” The group turned around to see Jake’s seven-year old little sister, Sarah, running towards him. She stopped when she got to him, and breathlessly handed him his cell phone. “You……forgot….this….” Sarah said. “I left it at home for a reason. Why were you running? You know how bad your asthma gets. Did you bring your inhaler?” Jake said, taking his phone. Sarah shook her head no, still breathing hard. “Why not?”
“Mom and……..dad said…..to leave it……at home. They said something odd……..that it was time for us to return to our roots,” Jake raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?” His other friends starting laughing, saying, “I think your sis is going crazy,” Jake held his hand up for them to stop and looked back at Sarah. But she wasn’t able to answer the question because she collapsed. Jake hurriedly went to check her pulse, and she didn’t have one. “What the heck were mom and dad thinking? Damon, I’m taking this motorcycle.” Jake quickly swung his leg around the bike and sat down, picking up Sarah so she was in front of him. He sped off into the street, ignoring the street lights and speeding to the nearby hospital. As he swerved to keep himself from hitting a car he heard two girls saying, “Did you hear about that girl in LA? She burned herself really badly and by the time the ambulance got to her, she was dead. Then she just, disappeared.” And the other girl said, “Oh, wow! Nothing like that ever happens here in Chicago.” Jake then sped up again, turning at the corner where the girls were. Unluckily he didn’t see the truck heading his way and he crashed into it. Both Jake and Sarah were now on the ground. The truck had stopped and his friends caught up and saw them lying on the pavement. A large crowd grew and one of the girls on the corner called an ambulance. But by the time the ambulance got there, they were both officially dead. And then, they too disappeared.










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“And in other news, Jacob Russo and Sarah Russo were in a motorcycle accident today in Chicago, Illinois. Jacob was announced as seventeen years of age and Sarah of seven years. Their parents do not know why their children were out on motorcycles, but witnesses reported seeing the girl unconscious as Jacob was driving. And here is a crazy fact: They both disappeared. Now we saw something like this earlier this week, when a girl named Michelle Allen in LA had died of serious burns. She disappeared also. What is happening? No one knows. Reporting from Chicago, Illinois, this is Lisa Chung. Good night.” Michael Ashley lived in London, England, and was preparing to go out to dinner. He was a college senior and majored in psychology. He was going out to dinner with his girlfriend and two of the best psychologists in the world. “Mikey! Let’s go, I’m ready to leave!” His girlfriend, Bailey, was at door, impatiently tapping her foot. Michael straightened his tie and turned off the TV and proceeded with Bailey out of the door. “So, are you excited?” Bailey asked, leaning on Michael’s arm. “No, I’m nervous,” Michael said, nervously laughing. “You’ll be fine. Come on.” The couple walked to a shiny black car. “Now, you know if they ask you any tough questions, look to me and I’ll answer them, okay?” Bailey said, opening her compact to put on lipstick. “Right. And if they ask you why you answered them, I switch the subject to golf. Right?” Bailey flipped her compact shut and kissed Michael on the cheek. “Right.” Michael started the car and drove off into the street. “This is going to change both of our lives,” she said, fixing the belt on her dress. Michael saw a car going down the wrong way in their lane. Michael parked to avoid the incoming car. “Idiot,” he muttered. Four more cars went down that way and they were all honking at him. “Mikey you’re in the wrong lane!” Bailey said when Michael attempted to get back out there. “How am I in the wrong lane? We didn’t cross the street, did we?” he said. Bailey shook her head no and looked back at their house. They didn’t cross the street, but ended up on the opposite side of it. “I’ll make a U-turn,” Michael said and accelerated to do so. But then, he wasn’t able to slow the car down, and he missed the turn. “Michael, what’s going on?” Bailey shrieked. “I don’t know! The brakes are out!” Then there was a loud honk. A Double Decker was heading their way. “Michael!” Bailey screamed, but he still couldn’t stop, and they crashed into the bus. The car overturned and the bus immediately stopped, as other cars did also, and people got out, seeing what happened. Bailey struggled to get her seat belt off and when she did, she landed with a thud. She pushed the door open and crawled over to Michael’s door. Bailey pushed her blood streaked hair out of her face and saw that the door on the driver’s side had blown off. She pulled Michael out and sadly, he wasn’t moving or breathing. “Michael, baby, please wake up. Michael, please don’t do this me. Not now, okay?” He didn’t respond and Bailey screamed, “Somebody help!” But strangely people entered their cars and Bailey was on the other side off the road again. And Michael was no longer in his arms. She stood up. He wasn’t in the other lane either. He had disappeared. Then there was one more sound out of Bailey before she was gone. A scream, which could be heard in the silence of the night.