Our 8-year-old daughter recently brought home her free-writing journals from her Grade 2 class. I was reading through her ever-creative prose and found myself chuckling to myself at some of her imaginative creativity.
Today’s fictional story was written — and illustrated — by her with some edits from me and has absolutely nothing to do with being married to an artist. It is, however, directly connected to being the daughter of a storyteller, for better or worse.
It’s short, sweet, and there is no exaggeration. Simply, it’s her personal writing style at eight years old. Enjoy.
Once when I was playing on the playground like a normal kid, I magically teleported into a random game!
I got a few clues to what game I was in:
- I was in a school.
- I saw somebody with a ruler.
Next, I saw Playtime and Sweeper. I had to be in Baldi’s Basics! Oh no!
I don’t want to be in this game! No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO!
I ran into the principal. I ran into the principal, AND I got detention. Ten-second detention, not 15 seconds. 10! Trust me, it was not fun. Very not fun.
As my time in the game continued, I ran into the bully. He took my candy.
I’m glad the principal saw, but all he said was, “No stealing!” Then he walked away. Sheesh!
Yeah, now, I have no candy. I have no, and I mean no candy at all! Phooey.
I’ve been in the game for 1 hour so far.
Thirty minutes later, I found a notebook and hoped there were no scribble math questions.
10+1 = Super easy! It’s 11.
2+3 = Even more easy! It’s 5.
?+? = I got this? Huh? Ok, it’s ?.
Correct! What?! This question was impossible to answer. How?!
Well, at least I got all of them right! Ok, Baldi, what’s my prize?
“Great job,” he said. “You get a prize! You get to go back home!”
Baldi said he was sorry for trapping me in this game and teleported me back home to my family.
They missed me so much! I didn’t tell them what happened because I knew they wouldn’t believe me.
But they asked me where I was, and I just made up a story.