It was a dark and stormy night and I’m home…alone. My parents are out of town and I’m stuck in the house eating candy corn, watching paranormal movies, and letting life passing me by. All of a sudden, the lights went off and the storm began to increase. The house was pitch black and it’s hard to move from one place to another. Luckily, I grabbed a lighter in my pocket and the room was illuminated. I went to the kitchen to turn on the main power switch, but suddenly the main power switch exploded, leaving me with just a small lighter. Then, the winds outside grew louder and the windows were shattered by the wind’s force. Terrified of the weather, I went to my room where it’s safe and quiet. Then, I heard footsteps and it was coming to my room. I locked my door so no one can enter. The footsteps grew louder and my heart was racing faster than Caster Semenya. The stranger knocks on my door and I grabbed a gun in my dresser. I told the stranger, “Back off or I’ll shoot you!” The stranger’s knocking was harder and before I knew it, the door was smashed. The stranger figure was…Michael Jackson. I dropped my gun and my jaw dropped as well. He came back from the dead to tell me an important message. He said, “I…want…to…be…” I said, “What do you want to be?” He said, “You!” His spirit sucked the life out of mine; causing him to be a little kid and me being old as dirt. He grabbed the gun that I dropped and shot me with it. I was motionless and Michael Jackson dragged me outside so he can bury me in his grave. And then, I woke up and I try to attack Michael, but he ran away so quickly, his body that I’m in was too brittle to move. So Michael got a shovel and hit me several times; leaving me dead and him reliving is childhood. So the moral to this story is: do not let Michael Jackson steal your childhood. His obsession with childhood is worse than his obsession with kids.


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