I Was Shot By A Baby!

by Panda Pandemic

Even in a world where pictures move, and portraits talk, it's impossible to come back from the dead. Except for the Resurrection Stone, and that doesn't really count... Anyways, far away from England and far away from Harry Potter's shenanigans, was a girl in San Diego. And she was shot by a baby. And died. And came back just in time for breakfast the next day. Here are her lives.

Life One

I woke up being stared at by a baby. She was swaddled in a furry white cloth with little hearts on it. Then I was shot by said baby, which was confusing considering two things: the baby was wearing my old friendship bracelets that a few of my childhood buddies had made for me, and second, that the gun used to shoot me was a rather large pistol, and the safety was on. Oh, and how do babies shoot things anyways? I thought her hands were inside the aforementioned cloth. And wouldn't the gun be too heavy to hold? While I thought all of this, it completely slipped my mind that I had just been killed.

Life Two

I woke up with a girl in a bathrobe staring at me. She wore pink fluffy slippers with little pig faces on them, blue pyjama pants, and a worn out blue Chicago Field Museum shirt. The aforementioned bathrobe was white with pink, purple, and blue hearts on it. She seemed around ten or eleven years old, a bit chubby with a pleasant smile. She had brown eyes, chocolate brown hair, and not perfectly white teeth, but not yellow either. I started to ask who she was, and what I was doing there, and then three things hit me. We were in my childhood home. She looked exactly like I did at that age. And she was reaching inside her bathrobe for something. That was the last thing that passed through my mind before she shot me.