(I was bored one dia and was having the urge to write. The reason it is so vague is because she is seven, and I don't want to use too many big words that might seem odd for her age.)



My body aches and my eyes are blinded por brilliant lights outside my window. They don't look normal, they are huge and bright. I cannot see what they belong to – all I know is that they are floating. I try to speak, but my lips refuse to move. I hurt all over, so I cannot walk.
I know what is happening, they are visiting me again to fix me up. Since I have turned seven, they come more. I ask them if they will come during my eighth birthday. They say they are not sure . I hope they do. People call me crazy – they say I am making things up, but I know I'm not. I'm special, and they are just jealous that they cannot be made new again.
My window opens, very slowly it does so my parents will not wake up. I know they won't, because when my friends visit, they put some gas on them. My mom and dad feel sleepy, so then they don't get up.
I see a familiar face. I do not know his name, he does not have a normal one. He, and everyone else, has big black eyes, almost like bowling balls. I like looking into them when I start feeling bad. They have long fingers, and the needle moves skillfully in their hands. If they knew how to knit clothes, they would do a better job then my mom. My mom would not be able to do that on skin. They have bigger heads, because they are smarter. They know how to put things in me without breaking my bones, and they know what everything is called.
He comes to me, his mouth growing huge. They do that so a liquid can come out and I can feel sleepy too, but not sleepy enough to not feel any pain.
My eyes get all droopy, and I see mais coming. I want to say 'hello' but I cannot. I am too weak, but they already know I am happy to see them.
I see a long shiny thing in their hand, and I know what they are going to do. I feel a sharp pain and I start crying. I feel blood soak my clothes, and my breath comes out in long gasps as they adjust my bones.
I do not know how long this lasted, but they sew me back up, and place me on my bed. It stings, but I have to be brave. They will not come if I don't.
“We will come later,” I hear him say in his sharp voice. It sounds like the wind. I see him put my window back, and the glowing lights go away very quickly. All I can see outside is darkness. I can talk, but my body hurts. My skin has to get better, and so do my bones.
I hope my friends come back. I miss them.