He made it over the fence and ran. Ran as fast and hard as he could.

His feet began to bleed when he stepped on a piece of glass from some forgotten bottle of beer. The orphanage was in a bad part of town. But why should the scum of the earth live in a nice area?

Oliver didn’t stop running from the cut on his foot, though.

If anything he ran faster. He had to get out of there, had to hide somewhere in the city. What if they caught him? Caught him and found his wonderful book?

They might kill him. Maybe not. Maybe they would just give him the beating of his life. But they would certainly take away the diary.

At this thought, though his lungs were on fire, he ran even faster. They would never catch him, he decided.

Soon he was in the middle of the city, many people walking, more going about on levitating scooters, still more in FA’s(flying automobiles).

Luckily no one noticed Oliver, and he ducked into an alley way, holding the book close to his chest and then falling asleep.