The Wicked

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In, a small town just north of Colorado there lies an old grave dedicated to the Wicked and their people of unholiness. A small girl walks into the cemetery and finds not only but her foster  parents but also her toys and other stuffs she likes; there lies besides the grave of Wickedness. As she leans in closer she finds a strange object an object that  will soon haunt her memories her past and her future and alo her dreams. A foreign object, a stone it was round smooth to the touch and it was exactly how you think it would feel for a stone, cold and hard. As the little girl picks it up something sparks and ignitions and soon she is walking away from the grave she, goes straight home. The little girl lived in an orphanage, she despised that place since day one of that she could remember. A cold dark november night; she was dumped on the steps of the orphanage, believing her mother would come back for her she was only twelve.  She like all the other girls and boys had chores to do clean, wash tables because the “director” was too cheap and cruel to hire staff. A tall young blond lady walks through the threshold of the building. Offered to take some kids off his hands, so he could have more space, but even the director knew better than that to let some random lady come bursting through demanding to take kids off his hands. He wondered what she’ll do to them, will she sell them? Or will she pond them off to other random people on the streets willing to take them whether they were kind or not. As the tall blond lady left she told the director, she’ll be back and to watch the count of children he has under his care; but before she left she said “I'll take you out of here and help you just wait for this signal to climb out of the window only when I appear, tonight”. And that has resonated in my head all my life the lady never came back because as soon as she left and closed the door half a block away her car was derailed because it was heavily snowing and she died on impact. She worked for the C.A.P (child agency protection). I have never had a name my mother didn’t want to get attached to me for I was her only child. She never called me anything usually you or it. But I always saw myself as a Reily, a rough and tumble girl but also feminine. By now I was eighteen legal to get out of the orphanage. And take care on my own. But just before left, the director had pulled me a side and said to me “the world is a cruel and dark place if positioned in that case”.  At the time I really didn’t care about what he had said but that had left a mark like what that lady said to me seven years ago. I briskly walked out didn’t say thank you, because he was a horrid person who should never work with kids. I grabbed  a cab told the driver to go to “Ver street” he agreed and there we were speeding off I took one last glance at the building to where I grew up. And that was the last time I had gotten to see the orphanage because shortly after I left someone called the health department and they were shut down. Almost felt sorry for the director but I would never stoop down that low just to meet his needs. I looked at the beginning of my life as the taxi cab would run through yellow light just because he could. I saw the reflections off the store windows took note of what and who they needed to run their store. Whether it was a cook or not I noted everything down. We were here the taxi cab drove off as if he was in NASCAR and had way more important things to do with his life. I walked into the building and there it was the smell of “adulthood” I could almost feel myself adulting in the real world. I took the key and walked up the four flight of stairs because the elevator is broken. My suitcase flapping in the wind like a flag on a pole, I unlocked my now new home and selletteld right in. That night I awoke in the middle of the night exactly twelve o’clock, there was a ‘ding’ in my bedroom I had grabbed a knife to protect myself. As I walked around the apartment I had found a small but yet suttle place to put a paper neatly tucked between a house plant and a window. I read it,  it said “ To whom, it might concern no need to worry I am a friend not a foe, I had spoken to you many years ago in fact seven years. I know this is not very professional but hear me out. We need you and want you if interested meet me on Washington square at seven o’clock on the dot if arrived on seven exactly you are late and will not make a great impression.” I was scared but yet interested so I had tried to get some sleep, but all I did was toss and turn. Next morning I walked down to Washington square I had made sure I was not late in fact arrived there at six just to make sure. A childhood memory I had remembered since i was a little girl the same rock where i had found that grave and other note it read “Dear Riley, you probably don’t remember me but I remember you maybe this will jog your memory ‘climb out the window on my signal and I will help you’. Hopefully you remember. I stopped reading and then swirling memories of the orphanage came rushing back to me like a hard flu to get rid of I said out loud “The young blond lady”. I continued reading “ I hope you will forgive me leaving you in a hazy background and putting you in that place, please come visit me on York palace.” It was the end of the letter and i turned it around and it continued saying “P.S. clever girl the password is your name.” And just like that I was back in my bedroom back at the apartment where this all excursion had happened. Breathing heavily trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. I had a paper I was clenching for some reason and it was the final note that I had found along with the rock on Washington square. 






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