Column of my awful childhood stories.

As a child I loved to write stories. I would spend entire days on a website called, which no longer exists, and I would make these online “dolls” who were basically avatars for my stories.

At this point in time I am going to guess that I was probably around 7-9 years old, but no older than that. Online I was a big hit among the other dollpalace users and, at the time, I thought that I had some pretty riveting stories. Luckily, my father saved a lot of my old stories onto One Drive, which meant that I could go through and read them again. 

Below are two or the writings I found. One is a poem and one is the beginning of a “scary story” that I wrote as a child. I re-wrote them so that they would have proper spelling and punctuation; however, I have also included a picture of the original pieces with all of its poor grammar and glory. Enjoy this weird and embarrassing look into my mind as a child.


The Googly Eyed Monster Under my Bed

Once upon a time, there was a seven year old named Bevin Lamed. Kids would say she was weird, sometimes lame, because she told tales of the bunny, Mick Funny, which lived in her hair, or the big bag of boo that only came out five minutes pass two, or the new one she said of the googly eyed monster under her bed.

She said this was true and she’d seen him wearing her shoe. She said he’s hairy and very scary and he had three eyes and he’s very wide and he made her late whenever he yelled hate and he never comes out when anyone is around only because that’s what he does.

One night I came over there to see him too. I got so mad when I found it was true and he gobbled me up with a type writer too, so I could tell the story that’s very true.


Evil Things in the Dark

You’re in your bed asleep and you hear a bump, bump, bump coming from the outside of your window. You get up and run to the bathroom and lock the doors. All of a sudden the door knob starts turning really slowly. You tiptoe into the shower and you feel something wet, so you look down and you see water. You had jumped in the shower and it had water in it, but “oh my gosh,” the water was red! You jump out of the shower and you see a stranger dead in the bath, but he just looked asleep! Suddenly the door goes open. There, standing in front of you, was a guy with a chainsaw; he came running to you. You duck and crawl through his legs. “Owww!” He cut a little bit of your leg, but you get up and run outside and just when you get outside, a lady with another chainsaw starts chasing you…

To be continued.

The “to be continued” phrase was my favorite thing to do when I wrote stories. I never did continue any of the stories except for maybe one of them. I still to this day hate the endings of things. If I am watching a television show, I usually stop watching before the final season or I skip the last few episodes. 

I am guessing that I had recently watched the Texas Chainsaw Massacre before I wrote the second one and the first one was probably me trying to write like Dr. Seuss. 

I find it interesting to look into our past and see what we were thinking about as children. 

2 thoughts on “Column of my awful childhood stories.

Add yours

  1. This is so fun! I wrote a lot of fiction in 7th grade, and each chapter would get passed around 10 or so people in my middle school. I typed everything up, and I’ve still got it on a flashdrive. One of my stories is around 30k words. It’s horrible, but it was a huge part of my childhood.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Famed writer Hunter S. Thompson was a compulsive letter writer, and he kept carbon copies of every letter he typed. He later published at least three volumes of his letters, dating back to when he was about 17 years old.


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