First Person Narrative

I remember the first day I walked into my kindergarten class, I clenched my mother’s hand with all my might to prevent her from letting go. The kids around me, whom I supposed were my classmates, had long let go of their mother’s had and were playing together, and even as a five year old, at that point I felt like an outsider. I pleaded my mom to not leave but my attempts failed as I found myself alone yet surrounded by complete strangers. As I stood in the center of the room while pushing back my tears and eyeing my mother make her way out the door, I heard the teacher call my name. I timidly walked towards the spot on the yellow carpet she was signaling at for me to sit on. I heard Mrs. Ross’s soothing voice but no matter how much I concentrated

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

One night as I searched for my mother, my dad told me she was not feeling like herself. My dad told me to let her rest that night and I could talk to her the following morning. As I started to wake up the next morning my father was sitting at the foot of my bed and informed me I’d be spending the day with my Aunt Michelle because my mother had a doctor’s appointment. I could not wrap my head around why I would not be attending this appointment but had attended all the others. Later that evening once again both my parents came into my room but this time without smiles. With a shaky voice my mom began to tell me she had been diagnosed with Preeclampsia and her illness was progressing quickly. Now with tears running down her face she continued

Throughout the novella, Chronicle of a Death Foretold, Gabriel Garcia Marquez chooses to narrate the book from an unclear point of view. Certain sections of the book seem to be written in a first person singular point of view, while others seem to be in first person plural, and yet others seem to be written in the third person. For example, on the ninety-eighth page of this chronicle, the narrator relates to the audience the arrival of the magistrate investigating the murder. “I never discovered his name. Everything we know about his character has been learned from the brief…”. The use of the word “I” in this quote relates a first-person singular narrative because it provides understanding to the audience of the narrator relating a personal

The first couple steps were bumpy, my trembling feet vibrating against the crackling floor. The door swings open as I go to knock creating a loud screeching noise. As I walk into the unfamiliar home, I become more aware of the man I'm about to meet. I travel further into his world and can hear the noise coming from under my feet. I get closer and closer until I find it, the crooked door where he told me to meet him. As the stairs appears from the darkness, my path becomes lighted ahead of me.

This story is going to be about this one halloween and it was truly terrifying for me at least. This will take place when i was about nine years old and the year was 2014. It started out as every day and it was like any normal day and it was halloween and i had to go to school so here was this big party at the end of the day and we were going to have a 5 day weekend. So everybody was excited and it was party time there was a big school party then there was a classroom party. We were just waiting for recess so that the party would start cause they scheduled the party after recess and lunch. It was only twenty minutes after rescues and our teacher took 18 minutes to take us back inside.

I am a rather complex individual, but one quality that stands out about me is that I am very passionate. While I am passionate about many subjects, I have great passionate for a select few. First, I am very passionate about entertainment. For as long as I can remember I have always adored television shows, movies, and books. As soon as school let out I would rush home to watch Thundercats with my oldest brother, Mark. During my school vacation, I would spend my time reading. Therefore, my mother said it was hard to keep up with purchasing books for me to read. When my family went to the mall they knew I could always be found in the book store. Finally, I am passionate about Comic Conventions. My oldest brother introduced me to a convention

There are lots of better writer and novelist in the world who have given so many books and novels for reading, I have read some of them and some are discussed with everyone. There are famous writers like A. A. Milne, Ernest Hemingway, Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, J K Rowling, Lewis Carroll and the list does not end here. They have given books for fiction, Children’s Literature, Literature, plays, short stories, Biographies, Fantasy, Poetry, and so on… First of all, what is First person narration? The first person narration is ‘The Story is told by a character that participates in the action of the story itself. First person Narrative is used by an author who wants a personal/subjective/intimate point of view’. In this essay, I will discuss the ways that first person narration affects the overall story which contains many things like Plot, settings of the story, Characters, the point of view, tone, irony, and symbolism. The story also contains many things for the third person too. But apart from all this, I m going to discuss the effects of the first person three main points are on styles and variations point of view and benefits of writing in the first person. Some other points are displayed in front. First I will discuss the style and variations then everything else.

The girl who I’d grown up with since preschool had a small tremble in her hands and couldn’t write legibly. Being bullied at a young age and didn’t pick up a pencil for the rest of elementary school, took its toll. But she sung the loudest songs and kept you on the edge of your seat with the passion that flowed from her vocal chords. She could talk for hours on end and listen just as well. She did all her work vocally and may have gotten the best grade in the class. Never giving excuses and always taking the hard route, and continued humming along the way.

It was cold on the night of November 14th. My friend, her boyfriend and I were walking to Walmart, planning on getting cake ingredients for my friend’s grandmother’s birthday. On our way there my surroundings seemed rather quiet for it being Angola. I felt like something was wrong like something had happened. But I continued to toss the feeling aside and just walked the path that leads to the parking lot. I couldn’t help but look in between the trees that held pitch black darkness. I was worried that was where troubles may lie, I was wrong. My real problem all started with a simple phone call.

It happened after school on June 8th, 2011, a Wednesday. There were no clouds in the sky and the sun was blazing. It was so hot that our neighbors were swimming in an inflatable pool in front of the apartment. I was inside watching them and I wanted to go swimming as well, but our neighbors didn’t like us. Our mother and father wanted us to do it, probably because they wanted to do drugs like they used to, or still do. I don’t know. I still don’t understand why they did drugs. I stopped watching because it was like torture. Minutes later the cops came in and said that we had to leave. I was struggling not to cry, but I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears and hugged my father for unbeknownst to me, the last time ever. I don’t even remember saying anything to my mother. This doesn’t make sense to me because my father did a lot worse things to me than my mother. We were then put into a grey van and driven to our new house, which turned out to be our forever

There were three knocks at the door. My mind somehow was trying to convinced my mouth to say “come in,’ but for some reason I just couldn’t. As the door opened if felt like I was in a timelapse. I heard how fast my heart was beating. It looked as if the doctor knew what she was going to say, but didn’t know how to say it. I watched her lips form into the shapes of the words as if she was about to give a speech and had stage fright. And then I heard, “I’m sorry for your lost…” From that moment forward I heard sounds from her mouth but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. This left me depressed but I realized it wasn’t my time to be a mother.

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping