A Narrative Story About My Life

It was a sunny day, but I was shivering from fear. While the rest of my family was getting into their scuba gear, I was composing a silent prayer to God.

You walk too soon see a staircase;it seems never ending willing to touch the stars. Climbing the staircase until you’re tired, you find you are among the clouds; too high up to see what the surface of the earth used to be. You feel limitless, the breeze flowing through your hair and no skyscrapers to block your view of the wonderful part the world you live – Toronto. Each cloud seemed to have represented every memory, emotion, adventure, and achievement you have ever experienced in your life and everyone that has helped you in your beginning of life. From family members to pet peeves, ethnicity to my earliest memory, you’ll now know everything that describes who I am. A story only I can tell, The Story of Me.

I spoke to mum about my friend. She said that’s my sister. I told mum I met her in the closet and we play together. Mum asked what Carrie talks about. I didn 't give her the direct answer, but instead I asked about my dad. Mum and I talked for hours, for once I wasn 't stuck in the closet and no one was afraid.

My love story is full of feelings of sweetness, bitterness, sourness, and saltiness, but, in my mind, memories of the day that my husband left me alone in Viet Nam still engraved in my mind. The fear of losing someone I have treasured created a storm in my chest. Struggling with many obstacles, choosing in many options, preparing for a new future lead my life to my situation at this time. I also made a storm in my husband’s chest too.

A mysterious island, an abandoned orphanage and a great collection of strange photos. I honestly don't know what I would have done without this book. It has actually changed my life.

I thought it was some big secret, but I wanted to tell everyone I knew. I wanted to tell my friends and teachers, but I wasn’t sure if I was able to. On the way home from a birthday party I asked,“Mom?”

“Nooooo!” I screamed as I felt like my heart ripping out of my chest. It was beating at seventy-thousand beats per minute and I felt like I was frozen still like an iceberg in freezing water. The day had come where I was no longer needed and the government was ready to get rid of me. I heard the police sirens closening to my home. “Here take this” my mom told me as she handed me the government issued gun for my training. I was being trained as an operative that went undercover and was issued warrants to kill certain high up people in our opposing government of District 15. “Wee-oo wee-oo” The cops cars are closening and my heart is beating faster and faster. I started for the door as my mom forcefully took me into a hug. “I love you Michael, don’t ever forget that.” “I love you too mom.” And with those words I ran the front door and before I knew it the cops were already here. “MICHAEL CONROCKER, DROP YOUR WEAPON AND THIS WILL GO VERY EASY!” The police officer yelled through the megaphone. I knew that I had to listen otherwise I had a larger chance of dying than living. I slowly lowered my gun to the ground and turned around for them to cuff me. As they cuffed me I could sense my mother’s longing stare from the foyer window of our new home that I had just bought. I felt the rigidness of the police officer’s hands as he forcefully tightened my hands into handcuffs. The officer cuffing me was one of my best friends who knew that if he didn’t do what he was told that his day

I long to be free. To be free from the metal chains that hold me down. To be free from the whispering as I descend into my empty slumber. My heart couldn’t handle the pain of the immortal whispers and figures that popped up here and there trying to help or drag me with them.

Screaming, crashing, it all happened so fast. I lay on the ground paralyzed from fear. Even though the screaming stopped a few minutes ago I still hear the screams in the back of my mind.

Tears blurred my eyes as I watched hundreds of balloons fill the solemn grey skies. I tried to clear my vision by wiping the tears away. Even with the light wind, the water pooling from my eyes would not dry. After my failed attempt to stop crying, I looked down at my fingers and saw black streaks of my mascara and eyeliner. I take out the scented Kleenex tissues from my bag and wipe my fingers on them. The only thing filling the silence was the constant sobs coming from people around me and my own. I found a sense of comfort in my best friend. I could smell her fruit scented shampoo as she laid her head on my shoulders and clung onto me. As our group of friends surrounded us, we all hold on to one another, finding solace within each other. This was the first time I mourned a death of someone I loved.

Born in the cold winter night of December was a little daddy’s princess, Sarika. Yes, it’s me. I am Sarika. That’s the name I was given by my father. The meaning of name Sarika is a bird, a beautiful thing or a princess. Like every father, he chose this name for me because he already knew someday I’ll become independent and soar higher like a bird. From the moment he first held me in his arms and stared into my eyes, he knew that I was very special and had lots of hopes and dreams for the future. On the other hand, my mom was very disappointed that she gave birth to a girl again. She wanted a boy. She had already given birth to four girls. She hoped that fifth one would be a boy. But unfortunately, it was a girl again. In dismay, she even forgot to breastfed me. She wanted to adopt a boy but my father did not agree. My father explained to her that I was the gift of the God and no matter what gender I was, I am his child.

I step out of my apartment and turn to lock my cherry red door. As the key slides in, I hear the palm trees smack the side of the building. They should really move those, or at least cut them, I thought . I jiggle the handle to make sure it is locked: We don’t want a repeat of what happened last Christmas. I grab my key out of the lock and turn into the sunlight. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in and feel the salty ocean air fill my lungs. I love San Diego so much. I love everything about it, the constant sun, the beautiful beaches, the beautifully green palm trees, and the fact that it’s so far from where I came from. It’s a place that I ran to when I needed it. I was five at the time when it happened. My dad had been out drinking with his friends and had come home upset. My mom greeted him at the door and he just got mad, for no reason, and he hit her. They started yelling. He hit her again. Then he pulled out his gun. There was a shot, then my mom dropped to the floor. I can still hear his feet pounding on the pavement as he ran. I had to get away from that. And there was no family I could run to. Maybe that’s what compelled me to change my name from Abigail to Raven, and find somewhere new to live. Somewhere beautiful, somewhere peaceful, anywhere. I turn and face the shoreline. The ocean is a beautiful teal with hints of blue and silver. Truly magical. But the ocean will have to wait till after work. I pick up my bag and walk down the sidewalk, aimed toward the

My life wasn’t always so phony and insubstantial. I had a life once , a real one, but I threw it away for the “better” make-believe version. Now here I am, standing on the ledge, with no parachute to catch me in my decent. Staring down into the vaporous abyss that is, my ticket out. All I have to do is leap, and gravity will carry out the rest.

Death is the thing you hear and known about but never truly know until you face it. I never thought death would frighten me until I was looking at my mom in the hospital; her face bruised from going unconscious and hitting the floor from what the doctors diagnosed her with “unclassified cardiomyopathy”. Death not only caused me to worry for my family, but also even made me worry for my future. With almost losing a special person, I realized that life can suddenly be taken from you. Life is valuable and should not be taken for granted and to savor everything.

“You are right.” I say looking straight into her eyes. I felt tears as I thought of that moment I saw my mother crying. “I wouldn’t know. You should go, be with your father as he is still alive. Make sure he is fine; but I still don’t get why you want to drop out. Once your father is healthy you can co-“