Creative writing on childhood story

A sweet murder story

It was your typical Sunday morning. I woke up, had some breakfast, which was delicious, played with lego friends and then a not so typical thing happened, i got the news from my parents. Guests were coming over. Normally I love guests but these guests were torturous, so bad as if they came straight out of a horror movie. I had many reasons to dislike these awful guests but one of the main reasons was that they never enjoyed the play doh food I made them. Yes, I know play doh food isn't real but all the guests always and I mean ALWAYS give special notice to my food. Rightfully so because I put my blood sweat and tears into making these dishes, I should get an award for how good I am. But of course these torturous guests..... did not.

I had made a plan for how this afternoon was going to go. I would make my usual play doh food and I would make it look so realistic that the guests will think that it's real food and then they will eat the food and die. If you think I'm being harsh or cruel then deal with it because this is the plan. The you know who people had arrived in my lovely home and just from them being in my house the energy had taken a toll but I could not let this distract me. I had a goal to meet. So I went into my room and started preparing my speciality, cupcakes and pizza. I cautiously opened my box with play doh as if it was made out of gold and took three play doh containers out. The satisfying sound of the lid opening and the slightly sweet, vanilla fragrance, cherry undertoned with natural salted wheat based dough smell was the green light for the beginning of a murder story in the making. I had never been filled with so much passion, my hatred for these guests was flowing through my veins passing through my heart, I was breathing in the hatred through my lungs. This was my sweet murder story. No one would ever believe that an 8 year old child is a murderer.

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