Everyone in our town talks about Ice Cream Sunday. The iciest day of the year. No one will talk about it outside. They will only ever talk about indoors. Apparently, Ice Cream Sunday is so icy because we get eaten! When the mayor told my class, to prepare us, almost all of the class passed out, the rest froze, literally. I was one of the ones who passed out. When I told Mom, asking her why she didn't tell me, she said she didn't want me to worry, because chocolate ice cream is favored among the attackers. I don't think I ever introduced myself. My name is Coco. The attackers should be here any minute, so I'm in the bunker with all the other children. And... Oh, no! They're here! I think they are trying to rip apart the bunker! Oh, no! My mom is out there! I hope she is alright. I think they are getting tired. They've stopped banging around the bunker! Teacher says they are gone! Time to go see the damage. Oh, no! It is worse than I could ever imagine! But it seems most people are still alive. Teacher says this Ice Cream Sunday had the least amount of casualties. Wait, I think see someone trying to get out from under a fallen rafter. I think that might be... Mom! Mom is alive! Well, Ice Cream Sunday turned out to be less icy then they said.
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Short Stories From a Camera
Historia CortaA collection of random short stories. Some of the stories are related to my other stories (The Monster Hero and Nature's Sign). Not all of them are stories, some are poems or other things.
