Here is another story that I wrote when I was about 12. This was way back in the days of pen and paper and creating beautifully coloured borders on your published work. I remember we had mac computers at school in the library – they were the colourful ones…I wanted one so badly.
But, without any further ado, here is my most amazing story called:
The Donkey Olympics (it’s better than it sounds…promise).
Miss Donkey was under a car, competing in the Olympic games.
Miss Donkey was wearing a hat. It was silver spotted and orange striped. Miss Donkey was also wearing her pink sunflower dress with fluorescent green spots over it.
Well, getting back to the story.
Miss Donkey is the most athletic donkey in Donkey Land (well, almost).
Miss Donkey could do the splits, cartwheels, handstands, and jump the highest (that’s probably because she’s 8 foot 9!!).
“Miss Donkey with her famous gymnastics round” screamed the announcer into the microphone, making a high pitched squealing noise.
Miss Donkey started with a series of jumps, then wint into the splits and six different types of handstands and nine different types of cartwheels, and finally finished with a huge, huge jump!
Miss Donkey came first in gymnastics and last in skydiving.
Miss Donkey started to cry when she got home and melted with her tears because it was a very hot day, just as it started snowing, when she got to the floor she froze.
The next week her friend came round and found a puddle on the floor in the shape of Miss Donkey.
Two weeks later she was in a coffin and dropped into her grave.
Every week her friends come and give her fresh flowers.
And everyday fans come and give her a flower shape windmill.
Wasn’t that just amazing? HAHA.
As the grown up me I think: How did she manage to be put into a coffin when she was a puddle on the floor? And that bit where I wrote about it starting to snow is so confusing sounding…
Comment from teacher:
What? Didn’t I impress the teacher with my amazing writing skills or something? Nah, as a teacher I understand how boring it can get marking work and trying to come up with comments for kids.
I wonder if I can find any more stories I wrote as a 12 year old.
I don’t even know why I have these floating around anyway. I mean, it was 13 years ago.