Day: August 15, 2025

I walked through the quiet street with my dad and little sister to the shop. We heard a grumbling sound from below that lasted a few seconds. I didn’t think much about it as we continued to walk on. Paying at the till, the ground shook hard again. The walls began to crack and crumble. Metal beams came down crushing shelves, falling down the aisles. The roof groaned and collapsed trapping all the customers as they tried to escape. I fell unconscious.

“Help help,” I screamed, but no response. I pulled on my left hand but it was stuck in rubble. I brushed off the pain and kept pulling and pulling till my hand slowly scraped through the rubble. It bled as I pulled it out. I looked around searching and searching for my dad and sister. I couldn’t see them anywhere. Realisation came to mind… were they dead?

Hi, I’m Christopher. I’m 15 years and 3 months old. I went for my early morning stroll around 4 to 5 am. I walked around and saw Wellington, Mrs Shears poodle. She lived down the street to the left and two houses down. Wellington, Mrs Shears’ dog, was not small and like the fashionable poodles. Wellington was a big poodle. Mrs Shears must’ve been worried I thought.

As I got closer I saw a pitch fork stabbing into Wellington. The pitch fork wasn’t tilting or falling so it must’ve gone through him.” I liked dogs. I touched his muzzle for four minutes until Mrs. Shears ran out of her house with her pajamas and her bathrobe yelling and yelling, “what have you done to my dog, get away from him!” I moved back 2 meters and put my head on the grass and curled up.

I don’t like the yelling, it’s like they are going to hit me. After some time a police woman and a police man came. The police woman had a rip on her knee while the policeman had a leaf sticking out of his shoe. I like the police. The police woman comforted Mrs. Shears and took her into the house. The policeman started to ask questions. I tried to answer them all but he kept asking and asking so I crouched down. The policeman pulled me up. I don’t like being touched so I hit him. The policeman got mad at me and arrested me and told the policewoman he would be back so that he can take me to jail. And will pick her up later

We got in the car and drove all the way to the station. He locked me in a cell. I heard my dad talking to the officer, “that’s my son let him go please.” Then an officer took me out of my cell. I saw my dad, he raised his right hand and I raised my left and made his fingers touch. I knew he wanted to hug me but I didn’t like being touched so we do this instead. A policeman with hairy nostrils that looked like mice lived inside took my dad and me into an interrogation room. “Did you mean to hit the policeman?” he asked. “No,” I said. Speaking again he asked, “did you know that hitting a policeman was bad?” “Yes,” I responded. He asked,” Did you kill the dog?” I said “no.” But the policeman said “you know lying to a police officer is bad!” “You know I’ve never lied,” I answered back.