Maranda sat in the bush, a single tear falling from her eye-it couldn’t be true, could it? Mrs Jones isn’t a..demon…right? She looked towards her, watching her stab the poor boy. Maranda then realised that Mrs Jones was a demon. She took a gander at her, seeing a new, murderous person. Mrs Jones’ dark purple eyes lit up in the dark skies. She licked her fangs until they glimmered in the radiant moonglow, the stars peering down at the scene. Her dark, luscious hair shone continuously, waving in the gentle winds-her tacky black clothes were covered in blood, so was her face. Mrs Jones grabbed the boy and rushed back home. Maranda sat in the bush, asking herself questions. Is this a dream, perhaps a nightmare? What have I witnessed? Why didn’t Mrs Jones eat the body, isn’t that what demons do? If she didn’t eat him, what’s the body for?

Maranda sprinted behind Mrs Jones, desperately making her way back to the cottage. She couldn’t get that poor boy off her mind. His face when Mrs Jones attacked him caused Maranda to feel sympathetic-He was a nice and humble child with an angelic heart and a pure soul. Mrs Jones entered the cottage, corpse at the ready, what was she going to do? Maranda rushed up the stairs quietly, rushing to Mrs Jones’ room and searching the draws. Not long after, she found a journal. It was all about Mrs Jones’ pass. She opened it up, and began to read it out..

“It was dark. Gloomy. Windical. It was a horror filled night, That I became a demon. I was coming back from the market, all my classic grocery items, carrots, cabbage, meat and so-on. I made it to my home that night, and then I saw it, my whole family…dead. I ran as soon as I saw a body outside the door. I got down on my knees to see the tragedy that had happened to them. They were all covered in blood, spread across the formerly clean floors. I cried in desperation, screaming in despair, “Why did you do this to me god! Why! Why?..” I cried for weeks, now having to survive on my own. This happened when I was the age of 15. I had only just gotten myself an ok paying job. I luckily managed on my own, but I will never forget that night. When I was at the age of 25, I met a man with the name Robert. I didn’t know it at first but we were destined to be. Soon enough we married, I took his name, became Mrs Jones and had a beautiful daughter. I named her Avis. She had long dark hair, beaming blue eyes and a cute perky nose. My life was going uphill until one fateful night. I was taking a stroll in the woods, foraging for berries to make my famous crumble, then all of a sudden…NASH! A demon leaped from a tree and sunk its teeth into my neck. I screamed in terror, desperately trying to get the thing off. I then scratched the demon, its blood was running down my hands. I wiped my wound with my bloody hand, not realising it was dripping with demon blood, but something felt different. I felt fangs growing in, veins bulging from my head. Was I? No, it can’t be. I wasn’t turning into a demon, so I thought. But I was. Rushed back home to see my daughter alone. My husband had gone looking for me I suppose. But when I saw Avis, I felt myself drooling like a stray dog.

“Are you ok mum?” she questioned. After that I blacked out, but when I woke up I was on top of my now dead daughter. Did I kill her? I thought. I then felt as if I was being forced to make a pie out of my former daughter. I cooked until it was finally ready. I tucked into the pie. It was delicious, but I began to cry. What have I done to my poor little girl? I will never forgive myself for this, but I soon found out that children were a lot more fiberent than adults. I now pick off children one by one, make them into pies then brainwash the whole town into thinking they never existed.” Lying at the end of this tragic book was a picture of her daughter. She was beautiful. Tears fell from Marandas sorrowful eyes. So this was why Mrs Jones never spoke of her daughter. Maranda was questioning this whole situation now. Was she going to be made into a pie next? Why would she eat her own family? Should I run away? She didn’t know what to do, but all she knew was that something had to be done about this.

She snuggled up in her blanket, her anxiety kicking in. “What if Mrs Jones is planning to eat me next?” she wondered. She couldn’t get that one thought off her mind. She tossed and turned, taking notice of the vicious demon, gnawing at the human pie. It was  gruesome,savage, and upmost sickening. Eventually, Maranda managed to doze off. At 6:30AM, Maranda awoke. She had dreamt of being lashed by Mrs Jones and being cooked up into a pie for her. Maranda shook it off. She grabbed hold of a nearby kitchen knife from last night’s meal, and cautiously crept down the rickety staircase-to marandas surprise, the place was spotless and Mrs Jones was sat at the dinner table with breakfast ready for the 2. Maranda stared at Mrs Jones, appearing to be stunned yet so confused.

“Well what’s wrong with you dear,” Mrs Jones asked “you look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Mrs Jones asked, slightly chuckling.

“Everythings fine!” Maranda replied nervously “I-I just saw a spider,I have bad arachnophobia.” She sat down, staring across the table at Mrs Jones. She looked completely different from last night. She appeared to be so innocent, like a goddess. Her eyes only showed kindness and a tad bit of sorrow, and her fresh curly locks glistened. Maranda tucked into the breakfast, and to her surprise it was great. She finished it very quickly and headed off to school. 

On her way she attempted to think of a plan to not be eaten, but the only plan she had was to run away or accept her fate. She arrived at school and set her mind to come up with a plan to escape her ghastly death. School went by quick, no-one attempted to speak to her and she did well in her classes that day. On her way home she continued, pondering on what she could do. She arrived. Mrs Jones was just dusting the place, wearing the same classic robe she does. Maranda hurried upstairs and continued to think, then she had it, a plan. It was truly evil, but she must protect herself.

The sun was setting slowly. Maranda decided to put her plan to action at this time. She snuck out through the window, making sure Mrs Jones didn’t notice. She ran out into the forest, knife in hand, making her way to the hangout area. She eventually got there.

“Ok, I’ve got to make my way home now-” a girl was saying

“No! Don’t leave me linda!” a boy replied 

“I cant survive without you!”

“Oh stop it you doll dizzy boy, and let go of my leg!” the girl screamed, kicking him so that he would let go. She eventually got out of his grasp and began making her way. Maranda stalked her cautiously, terrified of what she was about to do next. She leapt out, and stabbed straight through the girl’s neck. She had done it. Her plan succeeded. Maranda dragged the body to the house, crying about this fact. Why did she do this? Was she going to hell now? Her eyes were bloodshot from all the crying. She left the girl on the doorstep of Mrs Jones house, and climbed back through the window. After 10 minutes, she heard the door open. It was Mrs Jones. Maranda took it that she was about to set out for her daily ingredient. She peered down at Mrs Jones through the window and saw her grab hold of the body, smiling. Maranda took a sigh of relief, but she knew that to be safe, she had to continue this horrific stunt.