Is this a good start to a story? A little girl ducked in and through crowds. Her goal was to find food before the people she called VEPs (Very Experienced Police) could find her. She spotted bread hiding in a bag. A quick swipe and she ran. She heard the lady yelling behind her. Cars zoomed past her. She had gotten away! The police were no match for her, as she was a little speedy one. She laughed.
Steps behind her.
“Little street-roach!” a voice suddenly boomed, laughing hysterically.
No, she jinxed herself.
Then she heard the crackles and the whips. The police had whips. Electricity surged behind her. She had a huge scar on her back from one of those. She spotted the musty basement door, her escape. She sprinted and darted toward it. She knew there was another exit in this basement, as she had done this many times before. After staggering through the darkness a couple times, she finally found a sliver of light. She scurried towards it out the back, she sprinted to her home; an old car wreck next to an overfilled trash can. She hid in the car, panting. The AEPs ran past the alleyway, muttering to themselves. She sighed. At least her soul was not taken away by the police. At least, not yet. It was strange to her. The police controlled whether you kept your soul or not. No- your parents controlled it, if you had any of those. Many of the children had their souls sold and were on the other side of the wall that separated the soulless and the souled. You lived in the souled, if you were rich enough. The little girl was not rich at all, yet she still managed to survive with the souled. She chewed on her bread. She shivered at the thought of a VEP getting her soul.