Sixteen year old Arella watched the rain tap the window of a small New York City orphanage. Her ice blue eyes stayed fixed on the apartment complex across the street. She glanced at the parents tugging their reluctant children inside and away from the rain. Arella closed her eyes slowly, watching the parents with their children made her think back to her parents.

Lightning struck across the sky dark sky, causing all the children in the younger children in the orphanage to jump.

“Arella, could you please shut the blinds? The little ones are frightened of the storm.” Mary, the orphanages’ caretaker asked as she comforted the children.

Arella did as she was asked, as she began to walk towards her room Mary called out to her.

“Arella, a letter came into the mail for you. I left it on your dresser.”

“Thanks.” Arella said back, adjusting her pace as she walked to her room, anxious to see what the letter was all about.

She reached her bedroom door. The wood was painted white and had the words “Arella” painted across in the most beautiful golden cursive font. Mary really did take the time to assure the children she was taking care of were as comfortable as possible.

She opened the door carefully, switching the light on before she entered the room, a safety precaution she liked to follow. Her eyes searched the room for her dresser, when she spotted it she made a sudden dash to reach the letter. It read on the back of the envelop:

Arella Rose Lee

1224 New York Junction Street

St. Mary’s Orphanage

There strangely was no return address, only a small note taped to the letter that read:

Arella,

Please do not open the letter unless you are ready to complete this journey. You must be packed (but only the essentials) and you must not tell anyone of this. All will be taken care of. We are waiting.

P.S. Have your belongings in hand when you finally open the letter!

There was no sign off.  “This is odd.” Arella breathed to herself. She sat on her bed. She had a lot to think about. “Well.” She finally said after several minutes. “It’s not like I have anything left here.”