“As the rain started to fall harder and harder, my parents called me to dinner. As I climbed down the stairs, I heard a big crack, then a crash. Lightning must have struck a tree. I had always liked those trees. Big shady willows and towering oaks. BAM! Another one gone. I had been so intent on listening to the thunder booming and trees falling that I hadn’t realised I had reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Mason!’ Mother shouted. ‘I’m not going to tell you again!'”
As the rain started to fall harder and harder, my parents called me to dinner. As I climbed down the stairs, I heard a big crack, then a crash. Lightning must have struck a tree. I had always liked those trees. Big shady willows and towering oaks. BAM! Another one gone. I had been so intent on listening to the thunder booming and trees falling that I hadn’t realised I had reached the bottom of the stairs. “Mason!” Mother shouted. “I’m not going to tell you again!”
“Coming Mother!” I called in response and I sped into the dining room. Inside the dining room, there was a pot roast, some brussel sprouts and a salad with lettuce and tomato. For some reason, I had always hated meat so crossing out the pot roast, it was a pretty good dinner. As I sat down, I heard another crack.
“All this lightning will make us have to replant all the trees,” Mother was complaining to Father. Then she looked at me in disgust. “Why are you here?” she asked me.
“You told me to come downstairs for dinner, Mother,” I told her in the same tone.
“How dare you speak to me like that! No dinner for you!” she declared. I sulked back up the stairs in anger. My vision was turning red with hatred and wet from tears. As I looked out the window, I recoiled in shock. Lightning looked like it was aiming for the trees, as most of the trees in our yard were on the ground. And the rest, well they were taking a beating. Lightning was making the leaves sizzle. Suddenly, I heard a big bang.
“What was that?” Mother screeched
“I don’t know!” Father cried. “That was from the attic!”
We have a attic? I thought. My parents never told me we had a attic. They must have tried to keep it a secret. Well, they only kept it for 13 years, I thought bitterly. I thought what might they want to keep from me. I was thinking about this when I heard a series of thumps, and a crash. After I heard the crash, I went downstairs again. As I went around the bend into the kitchen, I saw two green things holding knives at my parent’s throats. Swords were strapped to their sides and quivers of arrows at their shoulders.
“Run, Mason,” Father yelled
“Never!” I hollered. “I’m not going to leave you to die!” One of the things threw their knife at me. I dodged and the knife ended up embeded up to the hilt in the wall. The other creature made up for it by stabbing my parents in their hearts.
“NOOOOOO!” I screamed. I ran up the stairs in shock and fear, tears in my eyes. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I could hear laughter. Those things had killed my parents and LAUGHED! I wanted to kill them, whatever they were, even if my mother treated me this way. Then, I heard a muffled voice speaking in a different language and more thumps. Those things were going to kill me. I assessed my options and thought of a plan. The only plan I had was bad. Really, really bad. Jump out the window. And as I jumped, the door burst open beholding not two but three beasts. Then, I looked down. I’m toast. I thought as lightning struck and my lifeless body hit the ground with a thud.
My name is Mason Jones and this is the story of how my life went downhill after I got killed. It may sound like maybe I was rushed to the hospital and miraculously saved. Nope. I died. Trust me, this may sound fun to read about but it’s no picnic. As I said,
trust me. I know.