Story Of The Streets

I live on the streets and my name is Alice. I am 11. And this is my story.

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When his back is turned, I snatch a plastic cup of roasted hazelnuts and dive behind the bin. Phew, that was close. I crack them and pop on my tounge. Mmm, heaven. I was so hungry! I think the last time I ate was, like, two days ago. I steal a coke and slip back in the alleys, and come across a weird place. A magical caravan, vivid against the bleak background, shines as radiant as the sun. A colourful family sits around it, singing and sharing a broth out some kind. One of the littler ones throws a pebble at me, but a lady with jingling bangles up both arms stops him. She approaches me gracefully, almost mysteriously.

" Hello child, do you seek your future? " she whispers.
" N-n-no, but, urm, well, eh, yes, but, I er... " I stumble pathetically.
" Come child, was a meal with us. " she smiles, taking my filthy hands and practically dragging me to the caravan.

A young, skinny girl with silk wrapped around her sits next to me and introduces her self as Beam. She points out Moonstone, Rain the pebble thrower and all the madammes. I smile and cautiously accept the broth(which tasted amazing)and talk to Beam she explains how her family are gypsys and tells me she is actually 10, but is small for her age. She blabs on about the importance of family, but then she asks about mine. Uh oh.
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