Popcorn.

                The day started the same as any other, I was just hanging out with the other popcorn and then, it happened. Worry struck through me as I heard the screams of the others, who were all praying that it wasn’t real. It was.

                Suddenly the screaming stopped and for a second I thought we were safe. My happiness was short-lived with light flooded the cupboard and more and more shrieks filled my ears. ‘Why now? Why us?’ was all that was going through my head. I just hopped I would be done fast.

                There was a tearing noise and everyone went silent. The noise confirmed all of my fears; it was our time to die. I was knocked over when the bag was flipped quickly, just as we heard the microwave door open. ‘Please God, make this fast.’ was what I was thinking, but at the same time, I knew it would be a slow painful death.

                The screaming had once again stopped, but was quickly replaced by crying and wailing. People were all wondering around, hugging and saying goodbye to everyone they knew, but not me. No, I didn’t want the last thing I remembered to be people crying. I turned away, closer to the walls that had us captured in this bag, hoping it would speed my death.

                After a minute or two, my body was burning with intense pain but the noise had stopped and the bag was no longer spinning. The smell of melted butter filled the air, and I slowly turned around. Everywhere around me, bodies were exploded. Only a few survived. I was lucky that day, although I will never forget their screaming.

                After the tragic event, I was thrown into the garbage. ‘Obviously they don’t want us; we’re witnesses’ I thought. I had the feeling the other survivors were thinking the same thing by the looks on their faces. Years have passed, but I still hear their screams every night, I still see the monsters faces as they ate the dead. I don’t think it will ever go away.

                Spring is coming, and I am the only popcorn seed left. The others all buried themselves in the ground, and sprouted soon after. I plan on doing that as soon as the ground is warm enough. I will become something marvelous, and feed other animals. And finally, the screaming in my head will stop.

                The End.

The Thirst

                As soon as the old metal door creaked shut, I knew it was time. The blood came rushing to my head, and my vision turned red. I watched them as they began talking innocently. They had no idea, they should be scared. I took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of their flesh. ‘Only a little longer,’ I told myself, ‘the time will come soon.’

                I waited a while, but my time was limited. We only had 12 minutes left in the oven. I need to work fast. I motioned for one to come over. He was small. The humans wouldn’t hear him. I needed to wait for them to leave to move onto the bigger targets, the ones I crave most. I could see some of the others look over, unconcerned about what was going on. I was going to kill him, in front of all his friends, none of them even noticing. As soon as I took the first bite, my unfixable thirst was quenched.   For now.

                There were 7 others left, and with only 9 minutes, I needed to work faster. I stayed hidden in the shadows and watched them, waiting for one to get far enough away that I could catch it. Suddenly, I heard a noise from behind me, it was a child. I grabbed it by it's arm, while covering it's mouth with one hand. The screams were not silenced. I let it scream, no one was safe now, and it would be seconds before the screams ran out.

                After the checking the time, I was pleased with my progress. 6 left, and 8 minutes. I could easily handle this. They were starting to panic, no one could find where the screams have come from. Little did they know, I was watching like a lion stalks their prey. My hidding place was above them, they would never find me.

                In one swift movement, I was flying through the air, and knocking over another victim. With in seconds, the taste of blood was soaking into my taste buds and I was filled with happiness, however, that happiness was short lived. I was running out of time, it's was time to kill in groups.
               
                There were only five left, and 7 minutes to go. The only ones left, were an average size. It was nothing I couldn't handle. The pure joy of blood rushing through my veins made me run, and I couldn't care less of who saw. In a matter of seconds, they were all on the ground, some screaming, while some we silenced.

                After it was over, I just lay here on the hot metal sheet they all came in on. I was filled with bliss, just like after every other killing. The smell of burning dough filled the air, and I knew it wouldn't be long, but I didn't bother to move. I was to carefree and happy.

                I could feel the tray being removed from the oven and panic sunk in. Had it really been seven minutes? I need to get away, who knows what they would do. I tried to run, but my body was stuck against the burning metal.

                In one quick minute, I could feel my flesh being torn into, and I knew it was over. They ate me. And after years of murdering other cookies, in the sanctuary of the over, I was finally done.

Dear Mommy,

   I would really like a tortoise for Christmas. I could be saving it from going to a bad home, where it would be unloved and not cared for. I'm fairly certain I would be able to care for it, considering I do all my chores, and keep my room somewhat clean. I already know how to take care of one, and have done a lot of research. They're not that expensive, and easy to take care of. As the best mommy ever, you should know that I really want one more than anything.

   Love,
Your daughter that loves you more than anything in the world.
   Except maybe tortoises.

The Puppy-Dog Horse. Part 2.

   He bit down on my hand, and I pulled his tongue. That might seem odd to people watching, but to me, it was the most natural thing in the world. I laughed, listening to the slurping noise he made and he ate an apple. It was cute really, until my hand was coated in apple juice, and horse saliva. I could feel him continuing to nibble at the pockets on my hoodie, as if looking for more treats, even as I wiped my hands on my jeans.
   People who see me with him, tell me to be careful. It's not like I'm unaware that he is huge, almost 1400 pounds and 15.2 hh. I know could easily crush me, but I don't feel worried. He's a careful horse, always watching where he is. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose. People keep telling me I'm to careless around him.
But really, why do you need to be careful around your best friend?

Brown Bag #3

   The small snail slowly moved across the plant, leaving a trail of smile behind him. He had to be extremely careful, a neon orange snail wouldn't likely go undetected for long. He finally reached his destination and moved onto the underside of leaf, ready to sleep. He was awoken by the whole plant shaking and being pulled into the dark sky. Someone had picked the flower.
   He quickly tried to escape, to make it onto another plant, or even the ground. Anything would be better than being carried away into the unknown darkness. Finally, he unattached himself from the plant, and he was falling, fast. He was surprised when he didn't feel himself land on the hard cold ground, but onto a soft plant.

Brown Bag #2

We reached into the brown paper bag, all anxcious to see what we got. Slowly, a hand pulled out a small glass lightbulb. Ideas instantly started flying into my mind, a majority of them, making no sense. One of the first thing I thought of was on cartoons, how a lightbulb light up when ever someone had an idea. If you think about it now, it really makes no sense, but I guess it does to a six year old watching with a bowl of cereal on their laps. I really don't understand what the lightbulb meant, I don't think I ever will. Maybe some things should be kept a mystery.

Brown Bag #1

   The white balls of cotton flowed out of the clear plastic bag as they were dumped onto the counter. I picked one up and dipped it into my foundation, it was soft on my finger tips. It might seem odd, but I hated cotton balls with a burning passion. They might be soft and beautiful in an awkward way, but no matter what, they always reminded me of hostpitals. I don't know why, maybe because of how clean and bright they are, or maybe because they use them to put cold stuff on your arm right before you get a needle. Who knows. What ever reason it might be, I hate cotton balls. Always have, always will.