Now that that's established, please, take a trip with me into the horrors of my 11-year-old mind. I was ridiculously excited to discover my old creative writing notebook from 6th grade. That excitement turned to sheer horror as I uncovered my past as junior Stephen King. The following is copied directly verbatim from said notebook.
Let's read, shall we?
Where are YOUR Parents?
The weather was fair. Partly cloudy, it felt as if it were going to rain. Chris looked around. Today she would find something to do if it killed her. (Not figuratively speaking.) The sky clouded up even more. She got worried because she was at least a mile from home.
Little drizzle drops fell on her face. "Oh oh," Chris thougt, "I'd better start heading home now"
She started to jog. The harder she ran, the harder the rain fell.
She slowed to a fast walk. She thought she was right at her house then, but she could have been mistaken. All that was there were two large black bags with red sprayed all over them. Next to the bag was a narrow hole.
She decided to give up and see what was in the hole. She'd look for her house when the rain stopped.
Chris lowered her body into the hole. It wasn't very long before she reached the bottom. A very odd looking couple appeared. They asked if she would stay the night. That's the last thing she'd remembered.
* * * * * * *
When she woke up soft, brown dirt was all around her. Next to her were two bloody bodies. They were her parents. She screamed. But then, only the dead could her her WHATTHEHELLWHY WOULDANELEVENYEAROLDCHILDWRITESOMETHINGLIKETHIS? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
As you can see, my teacher left a coment. "Very 'eerie'" she said. I think what she meant was "Somebody please call a priest or something."