"Ahhhhh!" Lexi screamed and I jumped.

She squeezed my hand tightly. I thought she was going to cut off the circulation of my arm. We walked a bit further and the cool breeze on my face let me know that we were outside the haunted house.

"Did you girls have fun?" our dad asked.

"It was creepy,” Lexi shuddered, “I don't know why Precious always wants us to go there; she can't see anything anyway."

I laughed and shrugged, “I like the thrill of it."

Hi, my name is Precious. Do you want to hear my story?

My bizarre story started as early as my fifth birthday when my parents thought it was a fun idea to have a petting zoo and pony rides. At that age, like most five year old girls, I was obsessed with ponies. My obsession quickly faded when a pony was jolted by a firecracker and I was hit in the face.

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