Write 3 NEW pastiches replicating the writing style by Simon…

Write 3 NEW pastiches replicating the writing style by Simon Brousseau from Synapses.
Use this expert as a guide for creating the pastiche.
Source/Excerp from Synapses by Simon Brousseau:
You must have been ten years old when you killed the bat that was sleeping in a corner of the shed at your gar. You still remember the excitement of pointing the gun at it, the jolt of its body as you pulled the trigger, the moment you moved it across the floor with the point of the gun and saw its fur with holes in it, its little black wings with veins in them, the thrill of throwing a dirty old rag over it before closing the door and promising never to go back to that place.
Less than twenty-four hours after you were born, when your mother had not yet been discharged from the hospital and you were crying out for help, a desperate woman entered the obstetrics wing disguised as a nurse to kidnap you, and when the staff realized that you were missing, the police department was notified, This created an unprecedented stir on social networks and throughout the province, and you were found, thanks to the vigilance of citizens, only hours after the kidnapping, in the arms of your captor who was looking at you with tenderness while singing a lullaby, sitting in her living room in front of the turned-off TV.
You read an article on the web about feces and how they reflect the overall health of the body, how their color, smell and composition are valuable indicators of certain deficiencies or diseases, and since this reading drew your attention to the poor quality of your own feces you immediately began a drastic diet high in fiber and probiotic bacteria in order to reach that ideal compared by the specialist Catherine Kousmine to a sausage of about four centimeters by fifteen and of a honeyed brown, a goal that you do not lose sight of even if it seems out of reach.
Every day you go to the St. Andrew’s Park playground camp where your mother signed you up so that she could, she explained, have some time to herself, and every day on the way home you wonder, sullenly listening to the sound of your lunchbox lying on the asphalt, what the hell she’s doing while you’re playing dodgeball with boys twice your size, monsters who never cry even when their knees are bleeding, but tonight she picked you up and you shared a chocolate sundae at the milk bar, and when she left you the maraschino cherry you forgave her everything.