Hollowed Space-Personal Narrative

SLAM. The door frame sounds to struggle from concaving under the pressure of the overemotional hand. I stand. Dumb and appalled at the sight. Hysterically I see her fall to her knees with complete lack of control as horrifically ear piercing screams protrude from deep within her lungs. The scene is dramatic, and I suddenly realise why these kinds of scenes are made slow in movies. There’s just so much happening that your brain literally slows the world down, in the most unattractively possessive moments possible.

One day at our summer cabin in the woods me my mom,dad,brother, and sister were having a peaceful day except for that this time we were in danger having to live off the land. For we feared that some kind of creature had taken over our cabin. What was once a peaceful vacation spot was know a place of eeriness.

Suddenly, a scream louder than a dog barking for food could be heard. She turned around and there she was. Her daughter.

I just couldn't. I covered my face and and could hear myself break down inside. For the bitter tears couldn't get any sweeter. My father was on his knees, impotent, as he mouthed the words, “I'm sorry”. The soldiers pointed to Doran, my mother, and myself. Eh! You don't want to watch , get outta here, maggots!” My pushed us to rush out of the old cottage. She told us we were “safe” here. But this didn't seem anything close to safe. I felt violated. And what about Father? Was he safe? In that moment of thought, I heard the gunshot and I could start to feel a hole in my heart. The kind you can never fill or fix. Not even in a lifetime. The men left the cottage, approaching us with leather whips. They brutally lashed us with every hit like a flame, burning me alive with every whip, every hit, every lash. They heedlessly threw my mother across the ground like she was muck. The nazi men burst into crude laughter and then threw a lighter through the open door of our cottage. The man walked away looking back and laughing mockingly a the three thin-skinned

The condensed snow under my feet was crushed with every step. The snow was around four inches deep, my boots made a large enough indent, that I made a noticeable trail of holes with every step. The sun had vanished behind a mountain, the sky’s light had gone from an amiable orange, to a mellow blue. I could see outline of the moon between two clouds, and the air’s bite grew colder by the moment. I had taken a detour, past a thin slice of trees near to my neighborhood. Even for a forest, it was a cold, silent place. I used to come out to places like this as a kid, quiet places where I would sit and be alone for hours. I guess I forgot how often that was, but for the moment, I had something else to worry about.

"You've got to come," said Colleen. "I'll talk to Joe," I responded, wanting to say

A particular sound rung at my doorbell, the sound heard like the broken string of a violin. The taste that the sound was acquired with was of a distant, melancholy and hollow noise. I had no visitors to host or guest to be entertained upon for I was of the desolate creature. My neighbors though kind to the people they liked were so corpulently judgeful towards me because of my background and character that I was only naturally drawn like a snail in its impertinent shell back into my life, so lonely. Here, of course [on this subject] I wondered what on earth could possess a person to entreat at my doorstep and ring the broken noise. I removed my grey apron and amplified my cheek color by pinching them with my fingers. I opened the door half for my curiosity and half for the sake of

I closed my eyes. Everything went black. Like a mole, my fingers sniffed about and found the beginning. The stir of the audience quieted as the music began to swirl from the piano, strengthening and coiling into vibrant loops. It came to me, full, warm, and green.

The first chord was soft and low. He released control, letting the rational, overzealous part of his brain shut down as his fingers moved on instinct across the ivory keys. It was a simple composition, nothing more than an exercise to him. He improvised note after note and chord after chord, until the piece he was playing no longer resembled that on the papers in front of him. His eyes drifted closed as he lost himself in the sweet melody. All else could be, and was, forgotten. He felt as if he were floating, no longer tethered to the limitations of the flesh, but free to move and live and breathe as he longed to do. Here, in music, his soul was laid bare. All the pain and the longing and the love bubbling up inside his heart were poured out onto the smooth keys of the piano, free to flow without restraint.

The crowd’s fear was palpable, a heavy silence broken only by a woman’s sobs as her child struggled for life. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but it seemed like an eternity before a blaring siren could be heard approaching, breaking through the sound of breathless counting,

The muffled clicking of the car’s metal doors could subtly be heard from inside the empty house. The noise was quickly devoured by silence as the couple drove off into the street. A complete trance of sound-absence was unfolded throughout each room — except for one. Alone, in a corner of the silent home, an unobserved noise could be heard — the quiet ticking of a lone wristwatch. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-

During my time outside, I experienced temperature changing from reasonable during the day at about five p.m., to bone chilling during the hours of six to seven p.m. During the whole entire time outside, I felt wind run across my face and through my hair. I noticed the temperature start to transition from warm to cold as the sun began to set. To my dismay, I became cold at an alarming rate. However, at a certain temperature I didn’t notice a further drop in temperature. Sadly, the wind seemed to pick up and enhance the cold temperature hitting me. I soon made my trek back to my home.

Golden brass instruments gleam in their plastic, paint-chipped cages. Drum sticks, long and thick, short and slim, are strewn across the brown speckled carpet. White brick walls surround me, enclosing the area. Curved rows of cheap plastic blue chairs sit centered toward Mr. Coppicus’ directing stand where sheet music litters the ground like confetti. Behind the chairs, lining the wall, are three long, but separate, counters. Tiny pieces of paper, abandoned gnawed pencils, and stray instrument parts reside on top. A piano, squished between the left wall and the counters, whines from disuse. When played, its keys cry out like a newborn babe, relaxing only under a mother’s gentle touch . Three other rooms lead to practice areas and a space for

We just bought a new cabin 3 weeks ago, and this place is awesome! It's over by waulkon and right next to a campground, It is an awesome place to hangout. At first I didn't think it would be that cool, cause our old cabin was kinda boring, But this place! I mean wow it has a HUGE pool outside right off the deck and inside the house there is a HotTub Its awesome we even have a pool table. I'm excited to go and hangout there more and take some friends along too.

The next day, I went to the music department at my school with light, bouncy steps. When I went in the room the people inside were staring at me, baffled. People whispered, as they gave me quick looks. Some gave me cold stares. I sat on the nearest chair. The chair that was a little too small groaned under my weight. The people looked at empty spaces, not knowing where to look at. Finally, James came to break the uncomfortable silence. During break time I rushed to the bathroom. When I came back, I could hear the people talking.