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A Puzzled Mansion

I walked into a mansion, pretty scary it was.
It had a mysterious chill, like every mansion does.
“ Why am I doing this?” I asked myself.
But very suddenly, something happened to the shelf.
It transformed so quickly, like everything I saw.
There was even a cooked egg that somehow turned raw.
“If you are confused, ask a question,” I was once told.
But there was no one to ask, when a baby turned old.
When I turned around, something caught my eye.
A small boy in the corner, I was seeing him cry.
The young boy was ordinary, just like me.
I was no longer alone, and I was now we.
“Who are you little boy,” I asked to him.
But the only thing he said was, “ My name is Tim.”
I took the boy with me, worrying about his safety.
I thought I would never escape, but now it was a maybe.
I saw socks that were ginormous, bigger than my mom could sew.
It was like we were an inch, from our heads to our toes.
The exit was now in front of me. I ran like I couldn’t resist.
When we left the mysterious terror, I felt like it didn’t exist.
The place was now gone, and the boy was okay.
The boy’s mother and father came. What was I going to say?
“Thank you young man,” the two adults said.
I was so proud of myself, my face was turning red.
Now it’s 60 years later, that was way back then.
I will never go inside a puzzled mansion again.

--Devin S., 3rd-6th Grade