“Run!”  I told myself. “If you stop they’ll catch you.” As I ran faster and faster down the alleyway, I could hear footsteps following close behind me. Then, hooves. Horse's hooves. And they were getting closer.
I clutched my mother’s gold-plated pocket watch closer to me. It felt warm in my sweaty hands. They thought I’d stolen it. Well, I had, technically. But I was stealing back what they had stolen from me first. All because of my sister’s cooking.

~
“Mom!” I called down the stairs. I could smell something awful. I’m pretty sure that something was not supposed to smell like an animal had relieved itself inside the house. “I think Cristy’s cooking again!”
“Hey!” Cristy protested. “It doesn’t smell that bad!”
I had to agree. Yesterday, it had smelled way worse. However, I had no intention of telling Cristy that, for fear she might cook again the next night to get back at me.
Cristy groaned. “You’re right. It does smell bad. I don’t know about the taste though…” She smiled up at me.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, “I forgot to do my…cheese sculpting assignment for my…. um…Floral Design class...” I backed away slowly then broke into a run heading to the safety of my room. Cristy had a scowl on her face and her hot-pink fingernails were tapping on the counter.
I closed the door to my room and sighed. I jumped onto my bed and glanced around at my barren room. It would not be mine after tomorrow. We were moving to Texas. Away from all my friends. All I had ever known.
A big slam from downstairs caught my attention. It’s probably just Cristy, I thought, but my gut told me otherwise. Being the person I was, I ignored it.              
I turned my focus back to my room. The walls had been stripped of their posters, the desk and chair were gone, the window was letting in the light of the afternoon with no curtains to hold it back.
I smelled something burning. Now she’s done it, I thought to myself. I dragged myself off my not-so-comfortable bed and went downstairs and saw a smoking kitchen. I looked around. Everyone was gone. I didn’t like the looks of this.
I ran to the window and saw a car driving away from our house. I started to panic. I bolted to the front door. It was broken off its hinges. I ran back to the window, trying to memorize everything I could about the car. I might just need it.
I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the pantry and pointed it at the hot orange flames. I pulled the trigger. The white foam came out faster than I had expected. I felt like one of those firefighters from the movies.
“Mom! Cristy!” I yelled as I searched my house. Maybe this was a joke, but even I couldn’t fool myself.
I set the fire extinguisher down and sat on the worn couch. Parts of the couch were ripped off, making it look older than it was. I put my head in my hands. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I knew life would never be the same.
I looked around the house once again. The smoke had faded and now I could see the wreckage. Food from the pantry had been scattered all over the floor. The curtains were torn and charred from the fire. My pet fish was lying belly up in its tank. papers were scattered all over the floor, some still smoking from the recent blaze.
Then my eye caught something shiny next to a big stack of sooty papers. I pulled myself up to go look at it. It was my mother’s favorite pocket watch. Before my dad died, he had given it to her. She never took it off. Now, here it was, underneath a pile of smoldering papers.
My mind reeled back to when my dad had first given it to her. We were coming home from my grandma’s funeral. My mom was really upset. My dad stopped the car and asked me to get a box from the trunk.
“Logan, go get the blue box from the back.” I gave him a puzzled look, but followed his orders. When I brought it to him, he and my mom went outside and took a little walk. They came back five minutes later, mom still had tears in her eyes; maybe more. But she was smiling and had a gold circlet in her hand.
I tightened my grip on the pocket watch. I was not going to sit there, moping that my family had disappeared. no-sir-ee.