Descriptive Narrative

The sounds of the city at night mix with the laughter of my friends. Taxis honking, subways rushing under your feet, and buses rumbling, all carrying their cargo of dead-tired, empty-minded passengers, following the daily routine until they reach their doorstep. For once, I 'm not one of them, not riding my train after a long day at school, brain set to automatic. Today, I am wide awake, soaring a thousand miles high.

I had woke up to the tranquility of a Sunday night there was a slight breeze, It was May 29th, 2016 around eight p.m. I was alone and confused in a poorly, lit living room. I stared into these white walls that were so bright it felt as if you were staring into snow, I was stuck and could only think, “I just have to organize all my things for tomorrow before I fall back asleep.”  I sat there on my couch tired from the late night before. I felt time was ticking as the sun faded with each second, I prepped my things for work the next morning. When I had finished with organizing my belongings I sat back onto my black couch that was so stiff it felt as if you were laying on a walk board from a pier. The first thing I did was grab my phone. At

Hopping out of bed, I got dressed and quickly grabbed a protein bar while I ran out the front door. My shoes scuffed as I sprinted towards the lake, slowing down by the trees. Being a stuntwoman, I practice different flips and challenges during any free time available. Castaway off the tree, cork on the wet, green grass, and finally I did a butterfly twist into the refreshing, clear lake. The bright blue sky shone above me, hitting my back like a heater on a cold winter day. I was wearing a black Under Armour muscle shirt, and light blue jeans. That outfit got drenched, but without caring, I kept swimming.

In hindsight, I realize I was not ready for a job, maybe I was just too immature. That Thursday night, in what felt like an empty cold room, I lay there crying, wishing for everything to be over. It all started the day I turned 15, I was just a young man, who for some reason decided that it was time to get a real job.

I will never forget this scene people crying tears of joy or happiness you just couldn't tell, yelling like they were about to die it was funny and horrific at the same time. and all of the above you would think this was because of fear but really. About three years ago it was mid-October around this time and as usual, we were at my aunt's house in Independence Iowa. It`s a house made out of wood my aunt and uncle built it with some of their friends when they first moved there I know that's not really relevant I just think its cool.

It’s hard to explain, the feelings and thoughts I had that day. Immense joy, and yet towering fear. So many words come to mind, looking back on it now. I felt alienated, yet accepted. I felt accepted, with the other women standing by me. I felt alienated by the immense amount of mens eyes on us. A penetrating stare, as though we didn’t belong. Anxious, yet eager. It’s nerve wracking being the first, being a leader. But I knew this was my place. Superior, yet inferior. Superior, with that crisp uniform upon my body. Inferior, the mens eyes.

I sat on the soft, colorful carpet in the corner of the classroom, planning my next prodigious film! Would it be a sequel to my most famous and extravagant movie Argentina? That was my absolute favorite film, mainly because I liked the breathtaking musical numbers in it. I stared at the dark blue walls pretending I was in the rundown, old Beach Orphanage, filled with badly built buildings and sad little children, the magical setting of my movie! “Why my benevolent Argentina, what shall we do with these horrid sandwiches?” I exclaimed. I dropped to the floor as dramatically as I could, pretending to be one of my protagonists Argentina the talking fish! “I don’t know! Those sandwiches are quite malicious aren't they?” Argentina winked at me with her piercing purple eyes and glittering long lashes. She was the shiniest fish I’d ever seen, and she was covered in glittering blue scales. I watched as she started to glitch as in a video game, disappear into a thousand tiny pixels and float away in the sparkly sea. “Do come back Argentina!” I yelled brushing my short hair out of my tearful eyes. “Save me from her! The evil orphanage woman!” I said sinking into the silky sand, the forceful wind blowing in my face. “SANDWICH TIME!” The evil woman yelled as I began to walk back from the beach. “No! Not sandwich time!” I ran back to the water and dove into the mysterious, salty sea. It was cold. No, freezing! It wasn’t long before a wave crashed over my head. I felt the world spin as I

First time? No. Last time? Possibly. The rays of July sun pound down, scorching my pale flesh, but I don’t feel it. Fear augments inside me; unsure my limits, I persist.

I woke up drenched in sweat from the hot sticky humid air. It was 6:00 am. As I got ready for the day I began to feel exited because today was the day we would spend at the beach playing and splashing in the water riding the waves riding our boogie boards oh yes today was going to be fun! As I put on my swim suit I smelt the lingering smell of the oceans salty water from the previous time we had gone to the beach. It reminded me of how much fun I had, had and made me even more exited

It was a hot and humid July day. It was an exciting day because my parents, my brother, and I were going to go to Bermuda very soon. My brother Robert kept yelling at me telling me to hurry up. Really, I was just too excited, there was not much time left and the great marine adventure awaited.

Everything is ok, it’s just a strange feeling everything is fine. I reminded myself that morning. How wrong I was.

Summer had already kicked off and it was a blazing hot July morning. I was with some of my family on an amazing beach vacation to celebrate my graduation. Everything had been going smooth, but you never know with my family.My mom called and demanded to talk to my aunt. She seemed distraught, but I didn’t dare ask why. I pushed it to the back of my mind. I was going to make the best out of my day no matter what it is. I waited patiently to leave for the beach, before I knew it my whole family, excluding myself, was crowded in the kitchen like a can of sardines talking like I dint exist. I had my suspicions that perhaps my parents were breaking up. Although, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to me cause they “separated” frequently.

At the age of four, I sat in the car every summer morning alongside my mom, sister, brother, and cousins. We were headed somewhere magical. It was a place full of fun, adventure and new beginnings: tennis camp. After dropping off my siblings and cousins everyday, I felt devastated and full of envy. I had been dying to go, but I was too young. Too young to begin this chapter, too young to start something so fresh and new. All I wanted - all I ever asked for - was tennis camp.

There I was, on a hard, firm bed, in the middle of the night, half frozen. Why is it snowing in California? I must've been dreaming. It never snows in California. I could see the burning fire in a fireplace on the other end of the dark room. I decided to hop out of bed, and look out the ice covered window. What the heck is going on? I immediately picked up my phone off the bedside table that was very old and antique looking. Why is my room so cabin-ish? Then I turned my phone, flashlight on. I walked down the carpet covered floor in the hallway, and hopped down the cold, wood stairs. That’s when I finally, fully woke up and realized that this wasn’t my home. WHAT THE FUDGE CAKES!! WHERE THE HECK AM I?

I remember entering the large but seemingly lifeless cafeteria. The lunch room was full of other high schoolers. I felt as if the lunch room was empty and I was alone. Just the recognition of not one person there deals the lonely card. Nobody recognized me. Not even one person, I looked left, I looked right, I looked down at my lunch. I pretend to check my phone for the notification that wasn’t there. I was the new guy, again. Starting from scratch is tough, but when it happens twice in two years, it seems borderline impossible to fit in.