Runnin: A Narrative Fiction

It was a perfect night for a run. Around 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I wait in my Dark Blue Mini Cooper as my watch gets my location. Feet trembling with adrenaline, much like an addict, I’m itching for a run. With a loud “BEEP,” I know the smartwatch is ready and I’m off. As time progresses, I start running faster, faster, and faster. The whispering wind would flow through my hair as I make my way down the trail. Bliss. I notice my surroundings, trees, deer, and the bright light of my headlamp. Chills go up my spine every so often. All I hear is the pitter pattering of my red running shoes and the occasional rustle of bushes. After what feels like the shortest moment ever, my half-hour run is over and I sigh with relief.

As the shadows turned into solid shapes and then into bodies, he saw that the boy was barely a teenager, short and pudgy. He looked around at those around him, blinking, trying to make out someone’s face, anyone’s face, and soon their faces did gradually grow clearer to him. He realized that they were all just teenagers. Kids.

The worker contacted Susie Hansen; who stated she was a mentor and mother figure for Mindy Cottier. Mrs. Hansen stated she didn’t have any concerns for Mrs. Cotter’s family, but she knew why she was being contacted by DHS. Mrs. Cottier stated “Sam and Maddie were having a birthday party at my house and Samuel was having a meltdown, you see Samuel has Oppositional Defiance Disorder and takes medication to keep it in control so every no a then he has these meltdowns and it hard to get him back under control, anyway Sam was having an episode at his party and Chris Mindy’s husband and Sam’s step dad was telling him to stand in the corner until he calms down. Sam refused and was yelling and thrashing around on the hard tile floor in front of the

Twenty-one year old Claudia Felder lives in Chino, California in a lovely home, with three sweet dogs, and most importantly, a family. One would never think that this well off young lady was once living a life inside foster care. She entered the system when she was just three years old, when most preschoolers were busy having play dates and learning to color within the lines. Claudia’s earliest memories instead were of her mom being beaten in a motel room. After that experience, Felder entered the foster system and stayed there for the next ten years. With not enough foster families in the system, she was bounced around wherever a bed was available. Her lack of a consistent foster

It is past midnight when loud banging sounds wake you. Something is wrong. All of a sudden, you hear the door being kicked down as the wood splinters and the glass shatters. Before you know it, the police have rushed into your home like a swarm of bees and have taken your parents into custody. Adding to this already bleak situation, a social worker has arrived and places you and your siblings into DHS custody. Since you have no other relatives to take care of you, you and your siblings are placed into the foster care system—in separate homes—without the ones you love most to comfort you.

UCM: CPSW received a call from Ms. Messerli reporting that she needs the lock number for her storage from foster provider family. She also stated that she needs the boy's cell phone back. CPSW reminded Ms. Messerli that this writer will ask the foster provider about the phone and storage numbers. CPSW reminded Ms. Messerli to focus on her recovery and not to disrupt her children as well as the foster provider and if she needs anyting to let the CPSW aware of it. Also, CPSW reminded Ms. Messerli not to contact or call both children until the theripist approves it. Ms. Messerli stated that she will try. Howerver, Ms Messerli sounded unhappy and really upset about not contacting her children Nick and Alexander.

While walking quietly through the living room to make sure I did not get caught, my foster mom came out of her room. “Where are you going?” she asked. I stood in complete shock, not knowing what to say but finally I managed to say “Oh! I’m just going on a run, I’ll be back soon for family time, do not worry!” My foster mom told me to have fun and went back into her room. I successfully walked out the front door without anyone asking me any question and went on my way to the house. After 10 minutes of walking, I finally arrived at 6142 Plum Ridge Drive. I walked up driveway, extremely nervous but excited as to what was behind the door. I had always been adventurous- being in the foster care system for 10 years since I was 5, I learned how to not only hide my fear but allow it to drive me to do great things. I knocked on the door and only a couple seconds later Mrs. Wellington opened the door. She yelled with excitement, “I cannot believe you actually came! You are meant to be apart of this family!” I walked inside after her and saw my whole entire new foster care family in the media room. “Welcome!!” They all shouted with joy. Mr. Wellington explained “The note was a trick to see if you are a daredevil like the rest of us in this family. We hate goody two-shoes and do not want any part of them. We will have a lot of fun with you and we hope you stay with us as we are a rowdy bunch.” After partying with my new family

“You okay?” the voice asked. I bolted up and and stared at the boy sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, talking to me. He had chocolate brown hair, caramel colored eyes, looked pretty tall, and about my age. Instead of wearing the all white outfit I had seen the other males wearing in the eerie room, he wore a white V-neck t-shirt with blue jeans, and a pair of expensive looking brown shoes. I broke my gaze with him to look at myself. I was still wearing the white dress, barefoot, and my hair still hung at my

“MUM! Wait!” I yell. My throat is sore, partly from the yelling, but mostly from the running. The thick, night fog blocked my vision of the path ahead completely, only allowing the occasional glow of the street lamps come in sight. I don't remember why I’m running or where I’m headed, just that something is about to happen. I trust my instincts to guide me through the maze of eerily empty streets.

He has always lurked inside of me, a malevolent entity that crawled beneath my skin. The boy stared at me, his lips pulled back to expose his sharp canine teeth, leering at the sight of me. His fathomless black, pebble-like eyes were sunken in his skull. A crow’s nest of matted charcoal hair was plastered to his sticky forehead. Sickly, translucent freckled skin stretched tightly over his canvas of bones. His knuckles were white, fists clenched tightly into two quivering balls of fury. The boy was an exact replica of me - except he wasn’t. There was something undeniably wrong with him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Cold beads of sweat prickled down my spine as his face moved closer to mine. My fingers crept tentatively towards

I open it and jump a little when I see an elderly woman with a teenager. The woman is holding a plate of muffins and the boy is holding some flowers. “Hello.” They say in sync. “Welcome to the neighborhood, I’m Edna, and this is my grandson Ethan” The boys brushes the bangs out of his eyes and extends his hand, which I shake politely. “Maybe we could hang out sometime.” Ethan said staring at the ground. Edna smacked the back of his head. “C’mon Ethan. She just moved here. Help the poor girl unpack!” She said demandingly. I had no clue what to do so I just led him inside. He helped me unpack my boxes and put my clothes away. We hooked up my television set and watched Judge Judy for

We were walking for a few hours. My feet throbbed and my ears were ringing from Taylor’s whining. Finally I could see it, the old abandoned house I discovered one day while riding my bike. The door was barely hanging onto its hinges, and there were several windows missing or broken. I pried open the splintering oak door. In the house there was two rooms. One, the one you first enter, was most likely a kitchen and living room. There was a sofa with faded fabric and springs popping out everywhere. An old furnace sat in the corner with rotting charcoal inside. The door of the furnace was missing rendering the whole thing useless. The other room was much smaller. It was a bedroom. There was a twin sized bed. The frame was rusty and missing a leg. I pulled the mattress off of it, so we could sleep on it. There were springs and stuffing sticking out of the mattress. It wasn’t too dirty to sleep on because I pulled off the moldy sheets. We laid down on the mattress. Taylor started snoring within minutes. I was worried about Mom. She had had a seizure before. It was because of her failing liver. Last time, social services took me and my sisters to a girl’s home. They served cooked vegetables that smelled like rotten seafood and chicken noodle soup with frozen chicken. After Mom got out of the hospital she got custody of us, but the judge told her if it happened again she wouldn’t get us back. My older sister, Becca, was eighteen so she didn’t have to

Megan presents herself after a considerable period of absence. Her impetus to visit the youth service is a letter she received from the Department of Human Services [DHS] informing her that there is to be a review of her son Brandon’s care arrangement.

Once a upon a time in a long stormy night.. I was with three people in a car driving to a haunted railroad. As we were driving we saw something strange. I didn't know what it was but we were scared. So as we were driving listening to some r&b music, I saw something for another time and they thought..”hmmm what is going on!”. So we wanted to find out what it was so we stopped the car and got out. I was looking around and I asked fiercely “why are we doing this?” Joey replied strangely “because we need to find out what is going on!” So we went on the trail of the train tracks hoping there was a big train coming for us. As we were walking Outta nowhere There it is. A train rushing forward and we all run except for joey he didn't realise that there was a train coming. We yelled for him but he couldn't here us. By time joey got crushed by the train.

I lay in the center, listening to soft music my iPod or the birds lulling me into a deep meditation. It is in this spot that I’ve had the deepest conversations with myself, coming to realizations and understandings about my relationships to life, others, and me. The secluded stillness allows my brain to freely wander, explore, and reflect deep concepts coming to profound insights that further benefit me in this crazy journey I call life. The winds, curves, inclines, declines of the trail makes it a perfect path to jog on. The isolation from the outside world makes it easy for my mind to focus on nothing but the task at hand – which is making it all the way around the 3-mile trail without stopping. Although, most times this doesn’t happen because I’m so taken back by the surrounding beauty. I always stop to take in the deep blue sky or the butterflies fluttering gracefully through the field of wild flowers. But when I am running I feel virtually weightless physically and mentally. My mind is blank allowing me to become one with my surroundings. The feeling of the cool crisp air breezing through my hair relaxes me as I intensely run to the heart pumping music blasting through my headphones. The path winds throughout an open field into a forest where you come out by the base cemetery. Passing it constantly fills me with emotion, carrying not only the weight for