I wrote this short story in the 5th grade for an assignment. The assignment was to write a ‘book’ that would later be published. The book was eventually published. Two copies were made. One is currently next to me, and the other is gathering dust in the attic.
The story itself is poorly written, and I gave you the pleasure of leaving the grammatical/spelling errors. Also, it is a little violent to have been written by someone my age at the time. There is no strong plot (It could probably end after the first six paragraphs and be gold). There is poor character development. And there is no point.
I wrote the story with no influence, other than the character descriptions of the clowns coming from Fantastic Mr. Fox. And honestly I knew it was terrible then, too. But I didn’t really care.
I posted this story for two reasons:
1. I wanted to share 5th Grade Toby’s mind.
2. I was a thug.