Foster's Home For The Imaginary Friends Novels & Stories

“But I know I’m not running from it. Not anymore.” Jon kisses the top of my head. “Then we stand with you. Wherever it leads.” Arc doesn’t speak, but his fingers tighten on my leg, his way of saying the same thing. **** We head back inside eventually, just as the rest of the house starts to wake. The chaos of a foster home morning rush returns: doors slamming, water running, someone yelling about stolen toothpaste. It’s jarring, trying to blend this new version of myself into the old space that raised me.

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

“And that’s part of what I want us to address today. Though, I already came to a conclusion and you have to follow suit.” Now this guy is really scaring me… “Okay… that doesn’t sound scary at all. What’s it you wanna talk about, huh?” I said out of curiosity. I didn’t trust this man a dent, because I knew what he was capable of. “Well, I’ve arranged a place for you. It’s called a foster home. That’s where teenagers like you, what word should I use for it? Bastards like you who don’t have parents, that’s where they go. And I already signed all the required documents for you to move there.”

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."

I put Angelo down on his feet. Bent down to his level, kissed his forehead and combed his hair with my fingers, then said with a warm smile, “Stay here, honey. I’ll be back soon to go home. Okay?” “Are these bad guys?” he asked with fear in his eyes. I stared back at my foster brothers. Then back to Angelo as I sighed and mumbled, “No, sweetheart. They’re family. We just have a misunderstanding. Stay here, okay?”

I tried to act like I didn’t know the answer to that giving an oblivious look. “My younger son is coming back after all this years”she explained,staring into space,obviously lost in thoughts. “That’s so good ma.I can see the cause of your bright mood” I said in a dry tone.I didn’t know what else to say,I wasn’t used to sentiments and I knew family life came with a lot of sentiments. And me not having any …what can I say..I grew up in a foster home.My foster parents saw it more as a responsibility than a passion.

Foster's phone number, which gave us no chance to confirm whether he still lived in the place I'd found. “If he's not there, we can at least talk to the neighbors and ask if anyone knows where he is now,” Grey reasoned. I forced myself to smile and nodded, knowing he was right. And yet, my restlessness didn't go away. I had an odd feeling that we might have come too late… Robert Foster lived in North Stamford, in a rather inconspicuous house, much more humble than the grand mansions surrounding it. An old pickup truck was parked on the driveway, and the lawn outside the house seemed freshly watered.

I was alone at Maria Hospital for a prenatal checkup when someone added me to a group chat I didn't recognize. Everyone in it was family or a close friend. My foster sister, Linda, had posted a video with the caption, "Enzo is such a great new dad!" In the video, my husband, Enzo, held a newborn and gently played with the baby's tiny hand. The baby's hospital wristband said Maria Hospital. Everyone in the chat was celebrating the birth. No one noticed I was there. My brother Luke wrote, "Congratulations! This family is finally complete." I said nothing. I saved the video. The moment it finished saving, a notification popped up. Linda had removed me from the group. I steadied myself and calle

Howard sat by the window and put the brochure on the empty seat beside him. More than ten years earlier, he had held that same brochure against the glass of my isolation room, pointed to this very mountain, and told me, "When you're better, I'm taking you there." I never got better. And he never took me there. The wind at the top blew hard. He opened the brochure. All twelve of my notes were still there. He took out a pen and held it over the space after the final line for a long time. He didn't cross anything out or mark any of them paid. Then he put the pen back in his pocket.

Four kids were all over the living room, running, jumping, and screaming their lungs out, ages six to nine. Zeal and her husband, Benjamin Strand, were the angels she found when she was looking for the perfect home that would be in charge of Star until she was ready to take him. They were understanding and honest with her throughout the process and have been her close friends since then. The two had been trying to have children for a decade and, having no luck; they decided to go into fostering, which they have done for the past five years. Their records were excellent, and they treated the kids like their own. She knew Star would be loved here until the time came to take him back.