Descriptive Essay On A Masquerade Of Life

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

I was so scared that my father would come back for another blow up. I then heard the stairs getting louder like my mother was step in down the old wooden steps. My mother walked over to me sat on the window seat with me and held me tight, she was started tell gn me riddles to get my mind off of my father, several long hours later my father walked up to us crying and sobbing over what had happened he said,”I'm sorry about this incident, I've just been so stressed with work and home that I don't know who I am anymore,” I told my father I loved him and forgive him. Ever since this day it has been drilled in my memory and hurts me every time I remember. “ see kid”, said the stranger, I've had some tough times in this house and you are going to go through tough times just like me. After the tour of the house the man had thanked the family for letting him remorse from the house. The father had shut the door and locked it. I thought

When I turned sixteen, my dad bought me my first car. Regrettably, I wrecked it not even a month later. In need of a vehicle for work and other after school activities, my dad bought another car for me, which became my brother’s when I bought a newer car. My father also put me through soccer, band, choir, and cheerleading because he saw the best in me and did the same for my brother with soccer, baseball, and band. He attended every competition and game he could as long as work would allow him the time. Every summer he takes the family to a lake cabin in Minnesota for vacation. In Minnesota, my dad taught me how to bait my hook, catch a fish, and how to filet one. Who knows how long my dad tried to teach my brother and I how to string a fishing pole or tie a fishing knot.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

An ambulance came and carried out my mom. I didn’t know what was going on, so many questions running through my mind, what was wrong with her, was she going to be ok. I was scared, more scared then I had ever been. My sister Sheridan who was 8 asked me “what’s happening?” through tears. On that day a little piece of me began to change because if I let her see my fear that would not help anyone, and so even though I didn’t know what was happening I responded “everything is going to be ok” even though I did not trust my own words.

One summer day getting off the school bus running home, excited about going outside; couldn’t wait to go play with my friends when I walked through the door and there was my Aunt Liz. Standing there with tears in her eyes, in extreme amount of pain. I was scared, didn’t know what to do or who to call. Do I called, Mom or 911? After calling my mother then 911, I knew I had to help my Aunt Liz, bring you into the world. No one around, no one to ask for help, only Liz and I. My panic turn into a brave teenager who needed to help her

My oldest brother was hammering on the door, shouting to open it. While I stood there, frozen in fear that this moment in time would never end. He asked why my brother and I didn’t want to be with him, what had he done wrong, how could he make things better? Next he tried to persuade me to come live with him, that he would “change,” but I knew that would never happen with him and he would go straight to being a patriarchal dick of a father that would threaten his children with a

“Today we tried out for this field hockey camp and…” I started out. I shared, not letting anyone talk until I was finished. After I mentioned the cost of the camp the thing he did made me stop mid-speech. He placed his fork down onto his napkin and his face went blank too.

I lolled around still thinking about the decision I had made. The vicissitudes were just piling up, on after another. The only things I heard were buildings crumble, guns being fired, and bombs dropping. I missed the sound of my car starting, I missed the sound of the music playing, but most of all, I missed the sound of my children laughing and playing. The kind of chastisement I was living through was just unbearable and I was ready to leave. No one was stabbing me, no one was shooting me, just thinking about what I have lost is the most painful thing. I heard gunshots getting closer. I needed to leave.

Later on that day, I heard shouting and crying down the road a ways. I swung the door open and ran towards the commotion. My mind was running through the files of my brain thinking on what it could be. I finally thought of the worst situation

I stood on the porch just thinking about my mother, oh how I miss my mother. If I could just see her one more time I would have so much to tell her. All I have left was my sister and my father, I'm just thinking about how much love I need to show them; because no one knows how much time we have left her on the earth. At the time, looking back on my mother and all she did for me, I honestly believe that she was the only person in my life that gave me joy and happiness. During the war the only thing I could ever thing of, the only thing that keep me sane was my mother. While being sorrowful on the porch, the door opens and I see my sister standing there crying. She runs at me a leaps into my arms crying, she tells me “its been to long brother”. I tell her that crying will only make me cry. At that moment my father walks throw the door and gives both my sister and I the biggest most immense hug. After maybe ten minutes of hugging the the porch we head inside and I got to take a shower and get ice for my head trying to relieve the

Then it all hit me, i had been the one who set the fire, the match that i lit inside the house and thrown to the floor sparked up this hell. A wave of guilt had hit me as if the devil himself had made me his child. I cry for hours, i couldn't bare this feeling , i had lost my soul to evil, i had become who i most feared, and forever shall he live in my shadow until the end of my days. In the midst of my dispare and pain i hear a voice within me. “My child, don’t feel guilty, for it was no more than an accident, i shall forgive you and give you the strength to carry on.” My heart beats once more, my mind has becom clear, i had a connection with my savior, God. I then knew that God should stand by my side, and that this was nothing more than a teaching. Everything had happened for a reason, for a positive one, due to this tragic catastrophe i had become one with god and heaven and his arms and doors would soon welcome me back to my daughter in law and my grandchildren. It had all came back to me. Forever shall i remember this event, and forever shall it live in my life, but it had awakened something that could cope the pain, i had finally awakened from my slumber in

Then, he told me a story of a time when I was little. When I was four years old, my dad would go on business trips often. Whenever he would leave, I would always try to stop him by hiding his suitcase, his car keys, and his shoes. Then I would grab his legs thinking I could prevent him for leaving. I didn't know why he would leave and I thought he was going on vacation every month. I wanted to go with him and would try to stop him. He explained to me that he was working in different offices and then I gave him his stuff back. After that day I never stopped him from going anywhere. I

It was about 10 am and me and my dad were sitting in the living room with the T.V on, the phone rang so we both got up and raced to it. Of course he won, he is tall so he towered over me as he answered the phone. His usual smile faded and it turned into a frown. He hung up the phone as looked at it in his hand for a while.