Curran Duke-Personal Narrative

It was a short drive to the hotel, and the scenery was pretty cool, but I was really waiting for arrival time. I couldn't wait to see the hotel, and I had no clue what to expect. I eyes drifted out the window at all the tall trees on the hilly landscape. The trees filled the hill, and there was on sight of the forest floor. Birds of all sizes flew in and out of the forest, keeping a person looking at them and their home forever. But then the landscape began to change.

I have often been told that I am irrational, and every time I deny it. Though, this time around I am afraid I have succumb to that label; and not only myself, but my dear friend John Laurens as well. I must say, it was folly on my part to call Charles Lee out on his bluff, but I’ve had an itch on my tongue to blurt it out since Monmouth. It’s as clear as day that the man is a traitor, but how does a great man such as Washington himself blind to the fact? I have tried to reason with him on multiple accounts, and regardless of the swearing he emits, he refuses for me to do anything to him.

Last night was a wonderful night.I went to sleep with a huge smell on my face because.Red chief was missing I didn’t care WOOW.My leg was shaking bad I knew I had to use the bathroom.Bark Bark Bark what is wrong with my little poop poop.I said so I look out my craker window soon as I saw Red chief run over my trash can chashing my little poop poop around with an baseball bat soon as I.open my window Red cheif run over my trash can I said.Red cheif go home and go to sleep before I.call the police and make sure you don’t come back to bother us anymore. When I said that Red chief come back with some heat he threw.His baseball bat at my window and shatter it then said you go to sleep you old bagged yelled Red chief and run off soon.As Red chief

Alan Brito is a friend of mine from childhood. When we were young, he and I, along with a bunch of other kids from my neighborhood, used to play tops, marbles and “twenty-one”. We had a top contest in which those who could spin the top in the air with the string, pull it back and place it on top of the palm of their hand, was the winner. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I was almost always the winner. For that reason, they nicknamed me “Toppy”. Two of my other friends, Gilly and Billy were rivals. They were very good at playing “twenty-one.” They were unbeatable. Every time we played together they beat me. I was always afraid of playing against them, because I was quite sure that by the end of the game, I would be left with no money in my pockets. In time, Gilly and Billy got married and left the country. They moved to Saint Maurice, a small paradisiac island in the Pacific Ocean.

One Monday morning young Joseph Russell was lying in bed at 6:30 in the morning. He was rolling around because he had a nightmare about LeBron and the Cavaliers would destroy Golden State in game 5 of the NBA finals. Joseph was in so much shock he began to profusely sweat. Before he knew it his room began to fill with sweat. Unfortunately, Joseph did not know how to swim and was soon submerged in sweaty water. Joseph immediately yelled out “My water wings from my 6th birthday,” which had been last week. He swam to his closet and found them, putting them on while struggling to breathe. He rose to the surface, gasped for air and managed to get out of his room into the hallway. Josephs father, Owen, was so furious about his room being filled with

Dell Duke, 47 years of age passed on November 23rd when a catering truck flew into him as he was on a jog around town, sending him to the hospital on life support for 6 hours. Where he sadly passed surrounded by his closest friends.

The first keeper of the semester for me was Ezra Barnett coming in to teach us what he knew. It was definitely an amazing experience to have someone with a different energy and with such knowledge of the culture we were studying come in with his input. He was a very cool person to be around and very easy to get along with. As far as music and dance go, he was able to bring a different energy and liveliness into the class with the music he sang while drumming, as well as the different sounds he made. I learned the importance of confrontation in dancehall, and how once again less can be more in these confrontations. Just be groovy, and smooth and it's really all you'll need. But keep that confrontation on the dance floor.

I was born in Raeford, North Carolina to Stephanie W. Henderson and Donnie Henderson Jr. When I was three my parents separated and they agreed to joint custody. My mom and I moved to Kansas City, MO in 2008. I lived back and forth between Raeford and Kansas City from 2008 to 2013. Summer 2013, I moved in with my dad for high school. From the age of five, I’ve loved music. Any type of music is my type of music. In example, my playlist includes Dolly Parton, Metallica, Rihanna, Keith Urban, and 2 Pac. I’ve been in choir since I can remember. My love for music is phenomenal but as far as being a musician; I’m a mediocre singer and I’ve tried to play bass guitar. I inherited my love for music from my father. Only difference is he’s good at playing instruments. The reason (what I had thought for years) my mom moved to Kansas City was to mend her relationship with her mom. Neither of my parents went to college, my mom didn’t even graduate high school. The last time my mom saw hers was when she dropped out. Turns out the

Jack Foster was a dreamer. He liked searching the shelves in the local bookstore, exchanging a brief smile with the old man behind the counter from time to time. There was a certain twinkle in his eyes as he sat down by an old oak tree and began reading. He valued the kind of simplicity offered by fictional worlds. The black words scribbled across the page had the power to transport him anywhere. He could be anything — a struggling doctor, a secret agent, a tyrant king in a far off land —and for a few moments every day, Jack forgot about the dreaded letter he had received a few weeks ago. He had been working overtime at Wilson's Market, stocking the shelves and admiring the beautiful brunette behind cash register three. His heart pounds against

Yesterday noon, at Mannbridge School, 14 year old Preston rescued a man, as he was being mugged

Scott is a very quiet laid back man. He rarely gets extremely excited, raises his voice, or shows anger. For instance, someone rudely put down an idea he had saying it was irrelevant to the problem they were solving. Scott never raised his voice an inch and replied back “I’m not saying you have to use my idea to fix the problem, I want you to use this idea and build off of it and discover a possible conclusion.” He never wants to intensify an argument or conversation by seeming rude. Ultimately, he shows his respect and suggests ideas to extinguish the possibility of confrontation .

“It’s been a year since I died, but I still remember the day crystal clear”

Once we get going, wanna sneak off and bang a quick one out with me so Duncan can’t use that joke anymore?

It was a dark and stormy night in Castle Wren, moans of one of the duke's servants were all but lost to the rushing of the wind. As the guards did their rounds of the tall walls, not one of them witnessed as it slipped right past them. Not a single one of them saw the shadow, though why would they it looked just like other shadow except it moved. It was only was it moved inside of the castle did people even give it a second thought. Even then they only move to attempt to dispel it, much to no real effect. It just continued to slip just out of reach of all their torches. As it reached the cellar door It slipped right through the cracks. Once it was entirely on the other side Quick Ben materialized on the stones of the stairs. It was a good

As a catholic priest, Robert Sirico’s duty is to protect and fight for the right of Mary to live. As for the judges, their decision was based from the specialists’ prognosis of the twins’ probability of surviving being conjoined or separated. This scenario is really hard for any party involved; especially a life is at stake. I can fathom the message that the author is trying to infer. I am a Roman Catholic myself and I comprehend deeply the moral dimensions of taking a life. On the other hand, as unbiased observer, I can understand the decision of the court to let one of the twins survive thru sacrificing the other one. My emotions were all torn reading this essay, although nothing compared to what Jodie and Mary’s parents were going through.