Silent Moments Or Hidden Secrets (I haven't figured out which title i like best!) This is a "sneak peak" of a story i'm writing. They spoke quietly, as if afraid that someone would over hear them in the noisy street. Their voices were barely audible to themselves. A tall, slender boy hid in the shadows and in between the crowds. His brown, messy hair had grown just long enough to get in his eyes, but that didn't stop him. White skin was hidden underneath a black long coat, jeans, and tall boots that were wearing thin. The boy had bright green eyes that were always strong, unemotional, and stern. He was just ten, but he was almost as tall as the ones around him. He watched the two walk into a cafè. The short, stubby man was taking off his striped purple scarf and grey coat while the other man, dressed in a suit, sat with a soft face, staring at nothing in particular. Watching their every move, the boy sat at a table adjacent from them. As soon as he did so, he saw her and she saw him. She had silver hair and crystal like blue eyes. She was dressed a torn, white dress, that was stained with bright red splotches. The girl was barefoot, but her feet were clean. Even though the cafè was busy, no one noticed the girl. The pair of eyes kept watch on the boy, while he did the same. Every so often, the boy's eyes flickered back to the two old men. As he did so, the girl glanced at them, then back at the boy. This continued until the man in the suit picked up the young girl by the collar that was around her neck. She squealed and struggled, but it was no use, she could not get free. Everybody didn't seem to notice, or just ignored her, or took part in her capture. With sad eyes, the girl looked at the boy one last time before she was taken into the storage room, behind the counter. The boy wanted to help her, but couldn't. He had already broke one restriction, he didn't want to break another. And it wasn't reassuring that the possibility that he was caught was very slim. So, he watched her disappear behind a rackety old door, wondering what kind of collar they had put on her. It certainly wasn't any ordinary collar. At least one the boy has ever seen before: Normally brightly colored with gemstones according to the extreme of power its victim wields. The darker the more powerful. This collar was made out of a thinnish leather strip that made red marks on the skin. A stud that shined connected the two ends. It must be quite strong and powerful to hold such a person and not break. The boy thought, going over and over a way to free his sister.