When I was a child, I enjoyed writing fictional stories with my best friend. She is the most creative girl I have seen. Together, we often spend our afternoons writing.
In our story, there lived two magical phoenixes, both of whom are the princess of the Land of Phoenix. The elder sister had pink hair and was the best at flying. The younger sister(was actually half-blooded and was adopted into the family) was a red-haired phoenix who could control fire. The naughty sisters decided to escape from the castle to explore the human world.
My friend and I would dress-up as the two sisters and acted out their stories. We are like sisters to one another, both in reality and in the story we had created. Everything went well until three years later, when we are finally out of ideas.
To end our story, we decided on the final scene. The younger sister would find out about the fact that she was actually the princess of the Land of the Peacocks and was adopted into the Phoenixes'royal family. The peacocks was at war with the phoenixes and many was about to die. They would need the blood of an phoenix princess to survive. To save her country, the girl had to kill her elder sister.
I refused to play the final scene because I did not want to stab my best friend with a toy sword. But what was to be done had to be done. I cried when I had to stab her.
Since both of us became very busy with our schoolwork, we did not have time to play again after the day the final scene ended. A week later, she came to me and told me she had added an extra scene. The magic pet that the younger sister knew how