Page 4 - GINGER
P. 4
Her foster father was old enough when he brought her, but Ginger was a resuscitating
life for him.
And then, Once upon a time happened…
Once upon a time, when Ginger was still up till late painting her walls into fantasy and
creations, she dropped her paint mug to the floor, spilling and reeling all over.
“Uh oh!” She stepped a foot down the stool trying to grasp through her toes, but the
stubborn thing rolled back, and slid beneath her old wooden bed, that singly stood
against the wall.
“Ugh!” Much to her dismay, she had to duck her head in the darkness with her small
extended hand and prancing grasp, while she continued to hum her song on repeat.
She touched it, but it wasn’t the mug. It was a slimy, wet, liquid. She stretched more, and
she was rushed and pulled by a grasping hand into a blue-rayed portal.
Vanished………..
