The chill November air blew hurriedly through her long, silky blonde hair. Had it been any other day, she probably would have taken some time to enjoy the feeling, but today was not that day. Today she had a mission. It was a mission to find little Maria Thompson.

She quickened her steps, praying that she would find a clue soon, because she was physically and emotionally drained. This certain cause was taking more out of her than she had ever expected.

Maria was her neighbor’s foster child. Every afternoon, once school was let out, Maria would walk with her back to their apartment complex and share a Heaping plate of cookies topped off with a nice helping of chocolate milk. But when one week to the day, Maria didn’t meet her outside the school, like they did everyday for three years, she began to worry. Instinctively she went straight to the principal’s office to see if Maria was held up there. But nobody had seen her since her father picked her up at noon to take her to her dentist’s appointment. She kept insisting that couldn’t have happened that way, since she didn’t have a father; it was just she and her foster mother living in their apartment.

That was a week ago. There had been no word from Maria’s captor since the day she was taken.

Soon, the voices started speaking to her, guiding her into Maria’s direction. She knew she could always count on the voices, for they never steered her wrong.

“Take a quick left beyond that rock up there,” one of the voices said frantically.

She did as she was told and soon she was rewarded, if you call what she found a reward.

On the ground amidst the dusting of snow, and the fallen autumn leaves, lay Maria’s shoes and a torn pair of her stockings. Nothing else, no clue as to where Maria has been, and is now.

She picked up the shoe and brushed the precipitation off, hoping it wasn’t too late. It’s only been a week, and who knew how long Maria’s clothing have been out here. Her energy could still be attached to them, if only by a thin cosmic strand.

She may have forced the vision, but what she saw wasn’t what she expected.

She saw little Maria bound and gagged, tied up on a tiny cot, naked and bruised all over. Blood clumps were slowly congealing in her hair and she was crying. She saw a man sitting in the corner of the room slowly pulling his pants back above his waist. He had just finished raping and beating his prize, and that’s when she realized he wasn’t a man at all. She saw a monster nabbing, raping and beating innocent children, like it was a game to him.

As quickly as the vision started, it ended. She was glad that it was finished, because it left a sick feeling in her gut. How anyone could be so cruel as to kidnap a poor child, and rape them with no remorse, was way beyond her intelligent grasp.

“He’s not done with her, in fact he probably hasn’t even started,” one of her many voices whispered into her ear.

But when I find him, he won’t be hurting anyone else, you can mark my words on that, she silently vowed to the voices of all those she helped in the past, whether she found them dead or alive.

She hurried back the way she came, and rushed out of the woods, cuddling the clothes of Maria’s that she had been lead to. Once back into her squad car, she radioed in her findings. She gave the exact coordinates where the clothes were found, verified that they were in fact Maria Thompson’s, but withheld the information she saw in her vision. There was only one person on the force who knew she was a witch, so there was only one person she would even think of sharing this valued information with, her husband, the chief of police, and newly appointed mayor.

She knew her secret was safe with him.

__________________


MY MYSPACE / My Poetry / MY Story

Chapter 1:The Interrogation Room

Destiny Jade parked in her normal parking spot, only to be bombarded by the press.

“Is it true you found personal items belonging to Maria Thompson?”

“Is it true that you’re a witch?”

“How many more innocent children will be kidnapped before you catch the perpetrator?”

Destiny decided to pick and choose her battles carefully. She decided to avoid the question about her family’s heritage completely, seeing as it had nothing to do with the current investigation. Instead she chose the more appropriate questions to answer.

“Yes it is true I found Maria’s shoes and stockings, that much I can tell you. As far as where to look, I relied on good old-fashioned police work. No witchcraft involved there folks. I knew to look where the kidnapper wouldn’t think anyone would find his remains. As for how many more children will, or may be kidnapped, I couldn’t honestly answer that question. I wish I could say that the answer was none, but we don’t have enough evidence to believe that this may be an isolated case. Everyone on the force does hope that this is the only kidnapping, as I’m sure everyone in the community, but again no evidence means probably another child missing. Any other questions you news predators may have will be answered officially at the press conference later this afternoon. Now if you will excuse me, I have a child to save.”

Destiny thought she handled that pretty well considering she had no notice that the press was even there. But she wondered how the press even had the information about the clothing being found, since she only just discovered them not even a half hour ago. Somebody’s job was on the line for letting bits of the case slip to the press.

Finally after about twenty minutes of random badgering and hounding, she finally made it into her office, seemingly in one piece. First thing she did was check her messages. Fifty-one emails, and about the same in voicemails. Apparently when a secret is let loose, the whole community finds out. Most of the voice and emails came from concerned citizens, wondering how long the case will take, and if more children will be kidnapped along the way.

But there was the occasional email or voicemail demanding that she come out of hiding, allowing the town to know her true identity. If they only knew half of the secrets she was hiding. Secrets that even her husband couldn’t understand, and would never be told.

__________________


MY MYSPACE / My Poetry / MY Story