This is a first for me so a big HUZZAH for the first guest post here. The author is quite serious about this “using the imagination” thingy and since this blog was started because of her, I feel an obligation to provide her a format whenever it tickles her fancy. I was quite surprised to find this waiting for me when I got home last night and have transcribed it here. Minus the auto correct, I will advise I have made no corrections for syntax, punctuation, etc. because, well, that just wouldn’t be right. In case you haven’t read her bio, the author is 10.
I live on Cemetery Dr. It’s not the ideal place to live for a 10 year old girl. My street, I am the only kid on the street, the rest of the houses are abandoned it’s only me and my brother. My mom and dad are in the airforce we try and video chat with them every night, but something has been happening lately. They haven’t been video chatting with us but the sergeant has, he has been saying there are strange figures coming out of the mist and they are hovering figures over them and soldiers have been disappearing. He says our parents are still at the base but are very sick, and the sick soldiers have been the ones disappearing. He says blue lights have been coming from the mist and paralyzing the soldiers when they are well and they get sick, very sick. When I heard the news I started crying after we heard about mom and dad. Strange figures out of the mist started happening here in California, along with earthquakes, tornados and tsunamis, and this doesn’t make sense, SNOW. Strange figures, strange weather, what is happening to the world? I heard a “crash” slammed the window. “JASON,” I screamed. Jason came running into the room “What is that?” screamed Jason. “How am I supposed to know?” I exclaimed. He got shot with blue light from the strange figure. “I don’t know how to take care of you,” I said with tears running down my face. So I turned on the TV and tried to find any information but the TV wasn’t working now. The next thing you know, the computer isn’t working so I never find out what condition my parents are in. 5 years later, my dad walks through the door along with a broken arm and leg, with a crutch and says “I’m here.”