Cages-Personal Narrative

Most of us have been stuck inside during a snowstorm at some point. We may have wanted to get out of the house, but we couldn’t. We were trapped inside. Scotty, one of the kids stuck at Tattawa Regional High School, has this same problem, but worse. Scotty is one of seven students that are stuck at Tattawa Regional High School during a massive snowstorm. After the power shuts off and heat begins to seep out of the building, the students begin a race against time to escape the school which could soon become their icy grave. In the story Trapped, Michael Northrop uses descriptive language to introduce a problem, develop a mood, and create suspense.

Hey little brother sorry you can't call. I don't have any money on the phone. I haven't spoken with Mj in a month. I am so heartbroken. Your wife told me the great news and I am so happy for you both. Like I told Lamont I really don't talk to no one in Michigan. Kristy (1-2 times a week) Aretha and Fred (every other 3-4 months) maybe. Mom and Cass never. So that's that. You, Lamont and Mj are my concerns as long as you all let me be in your lives I will be. I love all my family dearly; however, along the way we have lost vital parts of who we are as a family. I think long incarcerations have made some feel that they are not family. Many people have forgotten who they are as simply Africans but on a basic level in this family we have forgotten

After we left the jail I went to work. While I was at work Debra kept texting me, because she wanted to talk about things.

“Give me Liberty or get me a Tent.” There have been better signs of course. But that was what my protest sign read for the first Occupy action I went to. I carried it proudly to a number of Occupy marches and rallies; for womens’ rights, for housing reforms, for improved prison conditions, and for a better educational system. But I made it for that first idealistic action: the Daylong Nonviolent Mass Occupation.

“And there’s no way out?” I spoke after Newt explained that we were trapped in the glade, and inside those giant walls there was a maze; there was a creature called Griever—at least that’s what they called it, but no one had ever seen one and lived to tell about it because no one has ever survived a night in the maze.

The cold steel refreshed my hand as I grasped the handle to enter the phone booth. Inside laid the payphone sitting silent in the claustrophobic room. It had always trapped me when I entered, and created an atmosphere of a jail cell. Luckily, my reason for entering always masked that imaginary environment because it was to connect with others and not to be left alone. Although, on that typical sticky warm Florida afternoon the jail cell surfaced and I felt like there was no escape. I was a prisoner in my own mind; being beaten up by regret and taunted by sorrow. But, as my tears fell and my mind continued to race with grief I grew stronger and my morals shifted molding me along with them. That phone call that day changed my outlook on life

It happened so quickly my heart was pounding not knowing whether to run away from everything or be trapped in a life full of lies. At the age of 12 I had this feeling that I wanted to leave my house where I have lived for so long. Living at my house was a struggle so I now live at my aunt and uncle's house where I continue my life.

"I can't believe it, that one mistake coasted me everything I once possessed," I grumbled under my breathe.

I did a terrible thing one summer. I killed a cat. It was the summer of my sophomore year. My friends and I hung out a lot at the Shack. The Shack is a cool place right outside of town. We hung out at the Shack everyday that summer. The Shack is just a place, and there isn't actually a building there. One really hot day, we were out at the shack hanging out. We all decided that we should go back into town to get drinks, because it was too hot. We all went into town except for Ford. Ford is one of the dumber ones in my crew. He's always doing stupid things and getting himself into trouble. The rest of went into town and bought lemonade. Lemonade is one of the best drinks to have in the summer especially if it's cold. On the way back out to

Being held captive like this reminded me vaguely of my time with Vordenburg but I dare not tell her that. She seems to have a big heart and I don’t want to be the one to crush it. Laura gathered the ginger squad together and told them everything we had discussed she taped a cup full of blood over my arms and sat a straw in my mouth. This was fine with me I’m just glad she didn’t make me use those stupid glasses shaped straws I knew she probably had. They devised a new plan to go after my mother which I knew was ludicrous. I had waited centuries to even get this close to her and I had no idea of how I would take her down let alone some college students. My warnings seem to have been unnoticed or fallen on deaf ears but I feel slightly worried not for everyone but at least for Laura.

Many people do not listen to ideas of a young person. They are thinking that he or she does not understand. Even, I sometimes have done this with younger kids. Many people equate youth with immaturity. Which is sometimes true but is not always true. This is somewhat similar, but not as severe. He is just another adult that thinks young people are all the same. Age is a big problem with its stereotypes and could be a "cage" with either being too old or too young.

I was relieved that i was still alive but when i got into the house i just acted completely normal like there wasn't a red car trying to kill me. I sat in the main room just on the carpet but when the family first laid their eyes on me they got up and grabbed the cage that they transport me in. They were going to bring me to that place where they poked me. I really didn't want to go and i wasn't in the mood since i was almost run over so i ran. I ran as fast as i could around the house hoping that they wouldn't take me and they would rethink their decision. Apparently they were not going to budge because they kept chasing me all around the house. After a long time of me struggling i finally submitted and just let them take me to that horrid place. They put

Down the block stood the start of a line made up of band shirts, colored hair, and Vans. Each person sitting with the hope of being one of the first fifty fans to show up. My strides elongated from their normal petite distances not allowing anyone else to get in line before I had. Seventeen blocks trekked across from my stop at Spring Street over to Elizabeth Street in NoLita. Never would any other kid be up at this ungodly hour in the summertime, but it was worth it all for us. My friend, Maddie, kept her pace as she walked right by my side. I took one last step to the shady spot in line where I immediately pulled myself down onto the cool pavement. I pulled out my phone, which had now been burning from the heat and saw that we had another

I believe in catch and release. Its a method of fishing where instead of catching the fish for food, you catch them as a sport, and release them back into the water after safely removing the hook from their mouth. This "sport" is kind of like a metaphor in my life that I have used to get through some of the biggest problems that I have encountered within my lifetime. I noticed that when I am fishing and I catch a huge fish, there is no better relief than taking that fish off the line and throwing it back into the water. That is exactly how I see life in general. We are all sitting bank side with our freshly baited hooks in the water. And when something bites, no matter how big or small, you just have to set your hook and reel it in. Sometimes

One of the most popular music producers today, William Moore, also known as DJ Esco, once found himself locked up in a jail in Dubai. He was held Captive for 56 days. In one of the songs he produced, he told his tale of captivity and how it felt to be amongst a culture that is completely different from your own. He states in the song that he felt as if he were an alien among the people of Dubai. This is an example of a captivity narrative. Captivity narratives are usually stories of people captured by enemies whom they consider uncivilized, or whose beliefs and customs they oppose. A few other examples of captivity narratives include, Twelve Years a Slave (2013) by Solomon Northup, Olaudah Equiano’s Narrative (1789), and a more up to