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A Short Story : A Story?

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“I didn’t do it. I swear! It was those little kids. You may be wondering what I did. Why I was in a freezing cold dungeon, or possibly feeling bad for me. Well, I’ll tell you the whole thing.” I say. I was making my stew, the kind that I let the chicken bones sit in. I had no idea that two tiny demons were hiking up the hill by my house. “Just add some salt.” I mumbled to myself. CRUNCH! I peeked my head around the corner of my graham cracker wall and saw two kids (I assume they're eight or nine). Both of them had blonde hair, but the boy’s was pink at the tips. They had the same pale, rosy cheeked, freckled face that was stuffed with… MY SUGAR WINDOWS?! “Hansel this is very good,” The little girl’s voice says, “it’s so sweet!” Hansel attempted to respond, “Yes, it is-” “Hello… uh, kids,” I interrupted, “What are you doing here?” At the same time, they arrogantly say, “What are you doing here, witch!?”
I’m not a witch; I definitely don’t look like one. I have long, light brown hair and seaweed green eyes. The overalls that I’m wearing are faded blue. “What?” I asked, “Where on Earth did that come from?” “Leave us alone!” Hansel said, as he took a bite of my sofa. “YOU'RE EATING MY COUCH!” Gretel gulped down a piece of my cotton candy carpet, “If you don't want people to eat your house, why did you make it out of candy?” “Please leave.” I tried to sound as calm as possible “ No.” They mumbled. I was shocked; my daughter doesn’t act like that, and if she does,
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