Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends Novels & Stories

He was left alone in the house when he had no school or made to sit in his room alone all day if he was not getting punished for his bad grades. Young Anderson had been in the Blue Angel orphanage for more than about two months after spending the first four months moving from home to home. After barreling through six or so foster homes in four months, he was finally taken into the Blue Angel orphanage. The boy had been sent back from foster home after foster home because every child in those homes were afraid. Afraid the boy with the dead scary eyes would kill them in their sleep.

I ended up in the foster system. The first foster home seemed fine at first. They had several other foster children, all girls, and on the surface, everything appeared normal. But as time went on, their true colours began to show. The foster father was a violent drunk, and the foster mother, though less physical, was verbally abusive, berating us daily, drilling fear into us. We were merely bodies filling space in their home, a paycheck to fuel their own lives. But that was not the worst of it.

It comes out as a question, and I know better. “So three,” I correct, and she nods. “Look at them!” Briar pulls out her phone to show me a picture of the three kittens. “They’re cute,” I admit, even if they are a bit malnourished. “But is this a foster?” In the back of my mind, I knew when we moved off campus, a pet situation would arise. I made sure that the places I checked before we picked one were animal friendly. “I mean, yeah. It’s a foster until they find a home.” She’s lying to herself, but I’m going to let it go. Briar is floating around at the moment and not latching on to any one job or direction.

She scanned some files and discovered that Kevin Chen stole a lot of money from the company that they weren't aware of. Hillary sighed. How dumb they were that they believed in all his lies. She wished she had the chance to meet and bond to her real foster dad Based on her mom's story his real foster dad was a loving husband and a great father to her. After work he will go home straight away and played with her sometimes they will go out and eat their dinner in fancy restaurants. He never gets tired taking care of them and spoiling them with all the things they want. He was kind and energetic.

"We could work through it and finish tonight instead of coming back tomorrow." "Sure. Thai food from that place on Collins?" He ordered while I stretched my aching shoulders, and when the food arrived, we ate in his office instead of the conference room. "Can I ask you something personal?" Alexander said between bites. "Depends on the question." "What was your favorite foster home? Was there one that felt close to being a real family?" His voice was careful like he wasn't sure if the question was okay. I thought about the various houses I'd lived in. "The Johnsons when I was twelve. They had three other foster kids and Mrs. Johnson taught us to bake on Sundays. It felt normal for about six m

“And what does tomorrow look like in that head of yours?” Aiden exhaled, watching the last sliver of sun disappear into the water, turning the horizon into a thin line of molten rose. “I want to start the program next spring,” he said. “The foster teaching initiative. Small groups ten kids at a time. No corporate branding, no press. Just a converted warehouse in Brooklyn with good light, whiteboards, secondhand laptops, and people who show up because they want to, not because they have to.” Silas’s thumbs traced slow circles over Aiden’s ribs. “You’ve been planning this for years.”

The mark appeared naturally as if it had been part of me forever while the rest of my body eventually realized its presence. The glowing sigil expanded outward with detailed red, blue, green, and silver spirals. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. I tried to scrub it off. It pulsed brighter. I never showed anyone. In foster care, being different wasn’t mystical. It was dangerous. The situation worsened when no one was prepared to defend you. By seventeen I had lived in seven different homes. Some were quiet. Some were cruel. None were mine. The most recent was Mrs. Hensley. The current foster mother smoked in her house while having conversations with spirits and heated plastic containers in the microwa

Mrs Grayson,wiped a tear from her eyes as she spoke. I reached for her hands and took it in mine. "It's okay." I reassured her. "When I met him,I was only seventeen. We use to be highschool sweethearts. We were just kids. My Foster dad tried to take advantage of me so I ran away and I stayed with Justin. He was my best friend. His parents were never home and they really didn't care. We were two lost kids but we loved each other." She looked at me,like she was looking through me.

He paused, then spoke carefully, "I have a friend abroad. His whole family died in an accident, leaving behind a two-year-old boy. Lauren, you’ll love him." Love your child with another woman? I let out a cold laugh and shot back, "Funny… I didn’t know you had such a friend. And what if I don’t want to adopt?" For just a moment, he snapped. His hand tightened around my wrist, bruising. "Lauren, this isn’t up for discussion." His tone was sharp, final. "The Foster family needs an heir. This isn’t the time for stubbornness. Tomorrow, Liam will arrive. Show some dignity as Mrs. Foster."