Choice writing piece

This puzzling question rambled through their minds as they thought about several answers, beginning to become worried. "I don't exactly know, but he couldn't have gotten that far" replied mother.
"Well, we should at least try to look for him" suggested Brian.
"You're right" said mother. "Let's go."
They continued to run throughout the streets, desperately looking for Johnny. People wandering the nearby roads stared as if they were psychopaths, or even dogs sniffing for food. They checked a lot of backyards, and local parks, but had no luck.
"He's not over here either" yelled Brian, running out from a park across the street. His mom, and the other hand, wasn't doing so good.
"Why... why is this happening... why does it have to be us?" whispered mom, tears forming.
"I was just wondering the same thing" Brian agreed, kneeling down beside her.
"Don't worry, we'll fix this, I swear it" declared Brian, giving her a mild pat on the back, followed by a hopeful smile. Once they regained focus, the search for Johnny urged on. Brian and his mother broke into a close by gun store to get some artillery. This included a shotgun, pistol, and a couple of grenades. They even had body armor, just in case something were to go wrong. Then, as Mother stood outside waiting for Brian to finish his shopping, she heard glass break from a deserted store across the street.
"Brian! You think you could speed it up a little bit?" shivered Mother, starting to have the feeling as if she were surrounded.
"Yeah, just a sec" answered Brian from inside the shop.
Mother heard yet even more glass breaking, but louder this time. Brian finally came out, taking the appearance of a full-out killer, pistols at his side, wedged into his belt buckle, along with grenades closer to the front. This made them easier to throw while under pressure.
Brian stood proudly, imitating a country man and said:"All righty, what's the problem, mam?"
He then pretended to put on a hat.
"Stop playing this instant!" grumbled Mother, getting annoyed.
Brian then, without hesitation, quit his mimicking once he saw the serious look on his mother's face. They both looked around, checking for anything unusual. As soon as their eyes moved back looking straight, a large figure approached them. It was Johnny. Or at least it seemed like him. It was a 10-foot tall werewolf, staring them dead in the eye. But mother was most definitely sure that it was him.
"Come here, Johnny... it's me, mom" creeped mother, slowly motioning toward the beast. The creature silently growled, but appeared calm. His growling volume increased the closer you got to him. Brian had taken a enormously deep breath, and mother was surprisingly trying to pet this thing.
"There, there, it's going to be okay." mother hushed, petting the rough hair of the non-human.
"Mom, that's not Johnny" interrupted Brian.
"Yes it is, can't you tell? mother hollered back. Right when she said that, the werewolf grabbed mother's neck, and began to choke her.
"No!!!" cried Brian, whipping out his pistol. He tried to pull the trigger, and then... nothing. Brian looked inside the bullet chamber to discover that it had no bullets! All that "shopping", and no bullets! The shotgun didn't have any either, and a grenade was much too risky. The full effects of panic began to set in. All of a sudden, there was a loud roar from the werewolf as he whimpered, and began to weaken. He mother down, and fell roughly to the hard concrete. Standing behind him, was Courtney, bow and arrow in hand. Brian unexpectedly stared at Courtney, in astonishment.
Courtney looked back at Brian and said,"What?"
Mother remained on the ground, desperately gasping for air, as if she were having an asthma attack. Courtney quickly helped her to her feet, and Mother finally caught her breath.
"Thank you Courtney, who knows what would have happened to me" mother congratulated, walking over and awarding her with a big hug.
"Uh, okay you're welcome" Courtney replied, feeling sort of awkward.
Brian came out of his trance and took hold of the situation.
"So, what are we supposed to do with this guy?" Brian wondered, and Mother and Courtney scratching their heads with curiosity.
"I think I have an idea," thought Brian, stroking his halfway grown mustache.

"I heard he was in special classes" whispered a group of freckled-faced boys as the small boy shuffled down the row of seats, and plopped down into his seat, hair over his eyes. Everyone deserves to have a good friend in their life, and we should be a good friend in return. But one thing is you have to do special things for that person in order to be actually considered a good friend, so you need to be encouraging, kind, and helpful. First, cheer somebody up when they're sad. Nobody likes being sad, including me. So it's okay to crack a joke or two, or maybe even buy them a gift. This will never fail to keep their face lit up for the rest of the day, giving out a positive vibe to the friendship. Next, try to be nice, and not to talk behind their back.I've seen a lot of people say someone is their friend, when they do nothing but make fun of them all the time. Doing this can result in bad conflicts, or maybe even a fight.This clearly shows disrespect and hate, and can truly hurt their feelings. Finally, stick up for them when they're getting bullied by other kids. A lot of kids tend to cast a certain person out of group, calling them bad names because of the way they might act or dress, and this is a really mean thing to do to people who shouldn't be treated that way. So by doing this, you can help many other people around you by being encouraging, kind, helpful, and numerous other things. Good friends are nice to have, and you never know, you could be the one getting picked on one day.

Friend Prompt

My friend is riding his bike in the mountains with his dad. One of his wheels appear to be loose! the wheel instantly snaps off, sending him flying into the air. He falls on top of his leg, and his dad described it as " The sound I never wanted to hear". My friend's leg is broken. I would describe myself as a caring friend. Caring is my specialty because I am willing to do whatever it takes in order to make sure my friends are in the best care. If my friend is injured, immediately, I would go visit them with a gift card. Listening to my friend's feelings when they're sad is horrible because nobody likes to see tears, right? But I usually try to cheer them up with a funny joke. That always does the trick. Moments later, the tears that had emerged from their eyes before are now flipped back to its normal, happy self. When my friend is angry, it's just as easy as helping a sad friend... by making them laugh with a funny picture. Therefore, I will remain extremely dedicated to providing assistance for a wounded, sad, or even an angry friend, and that's why I can proudly consider myself a true caring friend.