I was going through my now-famous "random scraps" drawer and I found this old journal entry from 2005. I would have been fifteen then, and this particular entry chronicles one of the many times I allowed my imagination to run away with me - literally. I was completely in earnest when I wrote it, but it is hysterical to read now. I can only roll my eyes at the thought of how scared I really and truly was at the time.
Just thought you all would enjoy this.

October 3, 2005

"Oh, the most dreadful, horrible, frightful thing befell me this evening that I must write away the fear, being sure, of course, to include every terrible detail.

Description of a Walk in the Salt Barren By Twilight:
Early this evening, a short while before sunset, I was seized by the desire to go for a nice walk in the pleasant evening weather. After seeing that my chores had been attended to, I grabbed my bag and raced down the cow path, westward into the woods. for quite a distance, the cow path skirts around the edge of the woods, curving through them only once. As I walked through Sherwood Forrest, I noticed how very dark it seemed to be. Al except for one small bunch of elm trees, anyway. Stark and ghostly, they looked perfectly skeletal against the dark of the trees behind them. But I was too happy to worry about such things, and skimmed past them without a second thought. As I flitted up the hill across the daisy patch, I was as cheerful and spritely as any woodland fairy you might come across.
When I came to the fork in the path, I stopped; should I cut through Sherwood Forrest to the Rock Moor, or should I go around the forrest and through the Salt Barren to the Rock Moor? I had never much liked the Salt Barren, but in this strange twilight I liked Sherwood forrest even less. So it was that I started out across the Salt Barren. I reached the Rock Moor, and from there made my way to the pond. When I reached it, I sought to make a few notes to assist me later in describing the evening. At first, my thought was to sit down on the over-turned boat to write; however, the thought of what might be under the boat caused me to return to the moor to write. As I topped a knoll, my eyes turned to the west and beheld the glory of the evening: the sun had dropped below the horizon, but a rose-gold blaze of sky remained. Far away, the hills rolled gently like frozen waves of sea. The purplish-green grass was smooth and opaline, and the brown trees were gently frosted with gold.
I snatched my pen and tablet from my bag to write out the scene perfectly - but my pen froze on my paper and my blood ceased to circulate as out of the woods across the moor echoed a most terrifying crash, and a twang like breaking wire.
The crash died away and was followed by perfect silence - which was almost as bad as if it had been followed by more sounds. No sense taking chances. I fumbled wildly in my bag for my knife, which would be my only defense.
Oh, horror of horrors - it was gone!!
Where was my knife? Then I remembered: I had loaned it to Mom yesterday. I must have forgotten to get it back from her, so here I was, defenseless! I thought through my options:
I'm a fair hand at fighting, but suppose it was a creature many times my size?
I am a good runner, but I could not count on that, since I had no idea what sort of creature might be lurking in the woods. (Of course, NOW I realize that the sound was a snag falling out of a tree and landing on the fence, but I didn't know that then). My choices were running or fighting, neither of which was very good. I chose running. with a single bound I crossed the stream, and my flight of terror began.
I cannot describe the run through the Rock Moor and the Salt Barren, for I do not remember it - I was blind and deaf with fear. The next thing I knew, I was standing on the hill above the Daisy Patch. At least I was no longer blind, but all I could hear was my own raspy breathing. Before I knew what was happening, I was flying once again on the trail towards home, all the while imagining rapid footsteps behind me. I didn't dare to look back, but I didn't dare NOT to look back, either! In my panic, I ran, though my legs went numb and my heart screamed for rest. I was still frightfully close to the Salt Barren, and my imagination did terrible things to me. I imagined myself being found cold, pale, and dead, and could think of no worse place for such a thing to happen than on the Salt Barren.
It suddenly occurred to me how very soon it would be dark. Suppose I fainted from fear or collapsed from exhaustion? Such a delay would surely be my doom - I would be alone, after dark, trapped between the Salt Barren and Sherwood Forrest.
No. The thing must not happen.
On I ran, and when I could run no longer I staggered like a poor rabid beast through Sherwood Forrest. Oh, how terrible those dead trees looked! What bony fingers and distorted faces they seemed to have! I burst out of the woods and dragged my self through the back gate into the wood yard, where I lay quivering and gasping for breath.
My frightful ordeal was over."

Oh well, I can laugh at myself, and you guys can laugh at me too. But I really was completely serious when I wrote this. Maybe that's why I find it so funny now.