Reba

A girl runs away from home and finds herself in a different world

Currently unfinished.

The wind blew through the snowy evening. I trudged through the white blanket of snow that toppled the ground. I hugged myself, nearly frozen with fear and cold. Fear that I would have nowhere to go. This is the effects of running away, I thought. I knew I should have put on a jacket, but I didn't expect it

to get this cold in Florida, the sunshine state. Then, I passed out.

I opened my eyes and called out “Mom?” And then the memories swept over me like a wave does the sand. I glanced around and noticed that I was laying on a wooden bed with a giant leaf for a blanket. The bed was at the entrance of a cave, and the cave was on a short mountain, overlooking a huge forest.

A forest filled with sunlight and fresh air. Just then, I heard whispering voices. I could barely make out what they were saying.

“She can't possibly stay with us,” said a male's voice as bitter as a lemon.

“And why not? She's just a poor lost soul,” a female's voice jumped in.

“You can't just go around picking up lost children from the streets,” the bitter voice said.

“But, look at her! She doesn't-”

“Hush! She's awake!” the male interrupted.

“W-who is speaking? Where am I? I don't what?” I cried with a terrified look in my eyes. I heard a hustle and bustle and then there was silence. I was far too sleepy to do anything, so I just ignored it and drifted back to sleep.

“What's your name dear?” I heard a voice asked. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a tall elven women. Her elvish face was looking down at me with bright green eyes.

“Don't tell me you don't have a name!” she cried.

I kept my mouth shut, remembering when my mother told me to never talk to strangers. Then, I remembered how she practically forced me to run away.

“What about an age, do you have an age?

Lost in my thoughts, I almost forgot the lady was there waiting on an answer. “Reba,” I said.

“Your age is Reba? Never heard of such a number. Quite peculiar if-”

“My name is Reba. I'm eleven,” I replied.

“Hmph,” the elf replied, upset at being interrupted once more. “Well, what a wonderful-”

“Carina!” a sharp voice called out. “I told you not to make conversation!” A short, very short if I must say, man came into view. I couldn't tell if he was a midget, dwarf, or hobbit, but he was a little on the fat side, and his hostility made him look ugly and crude.

“You know Balir, I am very tired of being interrupted!” Carina shouted, angrily.