A Story Of A Story : My Story

I was born on August 22, 1999 in Fort Bragg, North Carolina around midnight. So, the second I seen the outside world; still the hospital room I saw my Grandma, Pappy, Maw-Maw, and papa, and my mom was crying. However, the person missing from the room was my father. My coach was more of a father than anyone in my life.

On January 28, 2003 I was born. I was born early so I had breathing problems for the first few weeks of my life. When I was two I would stay with my grandparents half the time because my parents were very buys. My dad was never home because he was firefighter and rescue diver. My grandpa would watch me and take me places with him. I would always end up at my aunt's house or going on long scenic drives with them because they were bored. When I was three my parents took me to Ceter Point with family and we walked around just looking at the rides because I was too young to ride any.

Everywhere we went my mom would say hello to somebody she knew. My sister and I would hide behind my mom, grabbing her by her jeans or each other in nervousness and we did not want my mom’s friend to see us. We would only come out when my mom would tell us to come forward and greet. My sister and I would look at each other before we said hi. The only times when we weren’t shy were when we would see our cousins. We would run up to them and try to play. My two or three year old body would try hard to keep its balance as I ran through the tan, dark, colored dirt road. I would often trip then fall on my face and cry. My mom would always scream at us” Que les dije woe no corran!”, “Didn’t I tell you not to run?” but we never listened. We were happy to run free getting our shoes dirty in the process and it gave me much joy to see people we knew everyday. Aunts and uncles would come over to our house and the smells of the frijoles, rice, nopales and sometimes meat cooking on the stove would fill the house. Lunch and Dinner were both eaten as a family, and tortillas were something you could not live without. With all the people and kids in the house you could see the dark muddy footprints all over the white tiles of the living room, and you could follow the footsteps into the kitchen.

I woke up on a cold, torn up mattress. I try to stand up, struggling since I was tied to the wall behind me. My head was throbbing and my wrists and ankles burned from the rope. That 's when I heard you walking down the stairs. My heart was pounding out of my chest. You then slowly unlocked the cage. For the first time I couldn’t save myself. You leaned over me, you stunk of stale cigarettes and booze. I knew I could survive the things you would do to me, I just didn’t know if I could ever get out.

This is the story of a girl who was betrayed by both her mother and her father. Those children who grow up with both parents in the household are truly lucky, that is a small blessing that should not be taken for granted. Let me start by introducing the heroine of this sad tale, her name is Che’Tara and she was sixteen years of age at the time of the incident. Being sixteen she faced all the problems that any sophmore in highschool faced, but her problems extended past those four walls. Having just recently overcame a gastrointestinal problem she was attempting to reach a proper weight so she could attempt to be healthy, but it was hard when she had no desire to eat and barley even wanted to go home each day. You see, she had problems at home. Her mother's girlfriend would cuss at her and threaten her, needless to say, she faced verbal and mental abuse and danced with pysical abuse. Stripped of her self esteem and made to believe that she was nothing more than a waste of space, she didn't believe that there was anything else that could be taken from her - oh how she was wrong. Sunday November 24, 2013 was the day that would change her life forever.

I felt like no one will help me; I felt pain, suffering, and stress inside me. I knew that everything that happened to me and it will stop sooner or later. I felt that now I could see the light reaching for my hands. I felt that someone has finally helped me to wash away the suffering I 've been through. Pray and continued praying until this war against me and the devil is over, forever more. I believe in every problem there 's always a way. This loud voice is screaming in my head.

My story began like most in America. I was born to very Christian loving parents who were hardworking, family oriented people. My father was a military man, my mother worked odd jobs and was a homemaker. My young life started with turmoil due to my early childhood diagnosis of Dyslexia. I was hyperactive and was required to take medication and attend special education classes. My attitude towards learning was compromised because it was a constant struggle. My parents did all they could to help me along. We were a military family and I spent years overseas while my father served in the United States Army.

It was a summer day in July, the sun was shining bright and you could see the heat waves in the air. My friends Caleb, Javon, and I were heading to the mall. We were there for five minutes when we heard someone yell “Stop!” We turned and saw it was an officer, before we knew it we were all running. Caleb was in front with me and Javon trailing. I turned to look back at the officer he was overweight and his white uniform was already sticking to his body due to him sweating. We turned a corner and went inside a bathroom. We all looked at each other and started laughing. “Why’d you run?” I asked Caleb

I could use, so I just did one on John Cusack, he’s my favorite actor.”

My family story is not about someone who is blood-related, but rather a family friend of my great grandmother. Her name is Eva Mozes Kor, a twin of her sister Miriam, born in nineteen thirty-four. They were born into a family of three other children. They resided a tiny town in Transylvania, Romania. In May of nineteen forty-four, Eva and her family arrived by train car at the concentration camp, Auschwitz. They got down from the train car, where people were chosen to live or die. People were crying, pushing, and shoving each other. Dogs were barking, everyone was trying to make sense of the place. Eva turned around while trying to identify where the Nazis had taken her and her family. She had never seen or even heard of a place like this. When she turned around, she realized that her father and her two older sisters were gone and she never saw them again. She and her twin sister Miriam were holding onto their mother for dear life. A Nazi was running in the middle of that selection platform, yelling at the other Nazis, “Twins, twins.” while pointing at Eva and her sister. Another nazi then noticed them and commanded to know if Eva and Miriam were twins. Her mother then asked “Is that good?” and the Nazi responded “yes.” Then her mother said, “yes they are twins.” At that moment, another nazi came, pulled her mother to the right and pulled her and her sister the other way, they were crying as they watched their mother sobbing while being pulled away from them. All Eva can

My story begins in a cattle barn in East Tennessee. I was halter breaking a heifer, named Rosie, for the 2005 Jefferson County Fair. Although I was rather small at the time, my father thought it would be a good thing to let me do it on my own. The first thing I was ever told before grabbing a hold of the halter, was to never let go, and I took that to heart. Rosie and I took slow, timid steps as she was weary of a small child, and I was weary of a twelve hundred pound heifer.

I was born in Portland, when i was five years old my mom moved to Mexico she had a lot of problems with the law. My two sisters and i stayed with my dad. My sisters names are Cindy and Estrella, Cindy is 18 years old and Estrella is 19 years old. At first when we were with my dad it was hard because we were really used to have mom around the house. My dad needed to work a lot so i would just spend my time with babysitters, i hated all my babysitters all the kids were so annoying. There was only one babysitter that i really liked, her name was Noemi she was like my second Mom she show me a lot of things of life, like saying thank you to people and saying please. She just showed me how to be a better person. When i turn 11 years old Noemi stopped babysitting me because she moved really far from beaverton, i was really upset when she left but she would always tell me that i am always welcome to go to her house. After Noemi stopped babysitting me i would stayed with my two sisters at home.

I have a scar on my right hand. It is just under my thumb on the backside of my hand. It is a thin, pale mark, roughly an inch long. How did it get there? Well, I’m glad you asked. It is an epic tale, not meant for the faint of heart. It conveys the utmost bravery on my part, more heroic than King Arthur’s knights! If you so insist, I shall recount the tale.

If I were to say that I attribute who I am today to any one event, that would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told. My story is an easy read, no dramatic tales, no mind- bending feats; it starts with a little girl named Allie who wanted to be a mermaid when she was older. I grew up in an ideal situation, I had two older sisters and a dedicated mom and dad. I played dress- up and house and fit the description of a youngest child perfectly. I was an absolute terror. But I knew what I wanted and I would almost always get it.

It was an incredibly normal summer day. The sunlight on my skin was a euphoric distraction from the everyday stress of my life, the sound of the waves coming off Norway Lake a rhythm that nearly had me sleeping. The sand stinging my back and legs was a cruel reminder that the nirvana I was experiencing only came from forgetting what was really going on around me. My best friend Justin was going to be showing up soon. I had to work later that night, and my mother had a court date early in the morning the next day, so I knew that I’d have to wake up early to make breakfast for my family and help my mom get paperwork together.