In 5th grade (ten years old in 1974) I earned extra credit for my creative writing. Much of it was the sort of stuff that would probably get me sent to a counselor these days. I’d kill off the kids that picked on me in hideous ways. Usually they were eaten by extra dimensional monsters that had somehow been dropped into our reality. I also wrote more innocuous fare – stories in which I was visited by the Switagern, a creature that only appeared on an orange full moon. It was a sort of a griffin but made from the combination of a tiger and a swan rather than a lion and an eagle.