A pseudo-secret writer

Okay - I am secretly a writer, wait not so secretly since that is the thing you do when you blog :). I have been thinking of sending the below to a magazine or something - have several more like it. If any of my two readers feel like saying anything about it - I would be interested:

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Allison wasn't sure if she really wanted to go. So, her parents were wrong. They usually were having no idea what she meant, but did that mean going to Chicago would change anything? Face it, she tried to tell herself, you are running away, plain and simple. Those stupid words “running away,” so childish.

She looked at Matt standing next to her, so supportive. He said he would help her do what she needed to do, even offered to come along.

“So, when is the train?” she asked as he studied the timetables.

“In half an hour, just over there.” He pointed towards a collection of benches.

“Great.” She picked up her bags, walked over to the bench, and silently waited for the train. It seemed simple enough: find her real parents, the ones who left her 15 years ago as a baby at the doorstep of the orphanage, and tell them... what?

The train pulled in, and as people got off she turned to Matt. “Thank you, really.” She gave him a hug, a peck on the cheek and ran to the train before she could change her mind.

As she got seated she decided to relax and not build up what was coming. However, her mind refused to obey. She knew very little; it seemed so strange for a married couple to bring a child into the world and then abandon her. They weren't young, and didn't then leave Chicago. In fact they had been born and raised in Chicago, got married in Chicago and lived there together since. She had spent all the money she had made over the summer to have someone find this much out.

As the train started she knew she didn't have any choice now; she was going to meet them and see what they would say. Despite her best efforts, she fell asleep on the way there, and someone had to wake her up when they arrived.

Shouldering her backpack, she hailed a can and gave him the address.

After pulling up to the house, she sat in the cab for awhile staring at the small mansion. These people definitely were well off, so why leave her? The cabby made a disgruntled noise so she paid him and got out.

She stood on the curb looking at the house. She pictured all the happy moments she would have had in the house, piles of presents at Christmas and trips around the world every summer. She was disturbed from her day dreaming as a car pulled into the driveway. An cranky looking man stared at her suspiciously as the garage door opened. She wondered what he thought as it closed behind him.

Fear grabbed her and she waited and then slowly walked to the front door. She didn't let herself think about it as she rang the doorbell. She heard the footsteps and then he opened the door. “Yes?” a good-looking middle aged man asked.

“Hello, about fifteen years ago you and your wife had a baby that you left at the orphanage. Well, that was me,” she said in a rush so no one could interrupt her, not even herself.

He just stared at her. “Um... come in,” he finally managed. She followed him into a sitting room and sat in the chair he pointed at. He didn't say anything as he walked out the door.

A few minutes later she heard a woman stomping in her direction and yelling, “What does she want? Does she think she can get some money from us?” She swung into the room and glared at Allison. Allison was sure these were the right people -- she was a spitting image of the woman standing in front of her, about 30 years younger.

“Darling, shouldn't we at least...” Allison's biological father tried to interject.

“We shouldn't anything. You wouldn't let me abort her and now look. So what do you want, money?”

“N-n-no, I just wanted to meet you,” Allison said. At least she knew why they had abandoned her. This woman was no mother.

“Well, you have met us, now leave!”

“Darling, we should at least get to know her. What is your name?” Allison's father asked.

“Allison.”

“Good, now we know. Now leave!” the woman yelled.

Allison stood up “Well, at least now I know I didn't miss anything, you are a witch!” At which Allison proudly strutted out of the house.

After clearing their yard though she ran. Ran until she found a cab, cried all the way to the train station, cried all the way back. When she called her mother she could barely get out the words. Her mother came running into the train station so soon after, Allison thought she must have flown. As she stood sobbing in her mother's arms she knew nothing else mattered.

She was home.