5 stories.

Story 1:
Cold sweat trickles down my face. I take out a knife from the drawer. Clutching the knife, I walked into the living room. Mum is having a good time watching television. I shiver and hide the knife behind my back. I realize that I still do love her.
Story 2:
“Crash!” the handphone slip out of my hand. My hands start to tremble uncontrollably. What is happening to me? Noone knows, including me. I never dare to approach a doctor. I am afraid of what is coming. I guess I am just going to keep this to one person, and that’s me.
Story 3:
My heartbeat choruses with the clapping below the stage. It is my turn to rock the stage down. I strum my guitar and producing an aggressive sound. The crowd roars. My fingers start to sweep against the fretboard. After few seconds of shredding, the principal chases me off the stage.
Story 4:
I close my eye, leaving my fate to the pair of scissors that is going to land on me. I am going to prom night tonight. The hairdresser told me that I suit short hairstyles. When it’s finally done, I open my eyes to reveal a moehog in the mirror.
Story 5:
I yawn and open my eyes reluctantly. “What the hell did you wake me up for mum?” I yelled. Noone is there. I yelled again. Noone is at home. Not only my cupboard, everything is in a mess. Something is wrong. I rush to my living room. Blood is everywhere.