Monologue-Personal Narrative

I woke up and hoped my furnace was working and was ready to be put on full blast. It was a frigid cold day, the coldest it’s ever been. The weather man called for the temperature to be -59 degrees. I walked outside and the air made me feel like I couldn’t move. It was that cold.

There was no wind and no clouds that morning, just still air and cold sunshine. The hair in my nostrils froze almost immediately. When I took a deep breath, my lungs only filled up halfway.

I pulled my sweater tighter trying to lock out the cold weather; I should have listened to my mom about this. “Wear your jacket, Farah, It’s going to be a cold one!” Her words echoed in the back of my head like an endless loop; I knew something like this would happen. I started power walking in attempt to get to my warm, cozy bed as fast as I could, almost there.

The nights dragged on and the wind always seemed to rip through my parka. But I welcomed the cold, for it meant that the streets were empty and quiet, only a silhouette distinguishable against the grey sky.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

The laughing wind crept up to me, following me while I walked, hissing at the warmth of my body. The cold readied to strike at me with its poisonous venom like a snake. My heart was pumping slower due to the icy frost burning my body. Freaking global warming.

It was freezing cold. So cold I found myself wondering if I possibly had frost bite. Would I ever be able to feel the tips of my fingers and toes again? The news had gone on for days about how bad the upcoming polar vortex would be. I unfortunately would find out first hand what exactly the news was talking about.

I started playing volleyball in 3rd grade. My dad wanted me to play because my sister also played. It was my first day being a 3rd grader and my dad told me I should get into volleyball. From there I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play. I watched my sister play every game and it looked like it was hard so I didn’t think I could do it.

I mended my body into the fabric of the hammock, curling my face into its warmth and accepting its embrace. Alex began swinging the one next to me before settling in. My legs rose up in the air, swaying around while I examined the old scars on them.

As I peeked out of the vestibule, I grabbed my hat from my bag and pulled it down low over my ears. Then, I put my gloves back on and ventured into the wind. I stepped into the freezing February streets of New York, hoping I would make it back to my cozy apartment, which was a 20- minute walk away.

Down I went the visor that my mom had set up left my mouth and I came crashing into the snow and ice. I started trying to breath it was hard almost impossible “ nooo” I tried to scream but my voice was not there then the chill hit me full blast worse than when I walked out of the airport. I thought I was going to die

August 2014 was the coldest August I had ever experienced. The month was filled with blankets and heavy coats. Though usually Brazilian winters aren’t much different than American autumns, this one made everyone chilly. I was born and raised in the United States of America with my father, mother and younger brother. But my mother was born and raised in Curitiba, a city in Brazil. When my parents got married, they decided to live in the United States to raise their family. Despite that, I grew up with a part of Brazil in my heart. We visited Brazil many times throughout my childhood, but when I was at home, my mom brought Brazil to us through her cooking. My family loved sitting down to various Brazilian meals, many of which were rice, meat,

One try. Straight to voicemail. So far. it had been a day since she heard from him. A

I was walking again. I do that a lot, because walking relaxes me. Sometimes it just feels nice to stretch your legs, and get some fresh air. The Moscow air is so fresh that it burns your face a bit, but I know that a little hypothermia is good for the soul. God, I sound like air supply. Anyway, it was cold again. I mean it’s always cold in Moscow, but today it was different, because this walk wasn’t for nothing. I was intent on my purpose, so I moved at a brisk pace. I sped up, but made sure not to go too fast so that the ice pick didn’t dig into my thigh.

“Pshhh,” a voice whispered behind me. “Pssst look behind you,” the voice said again. I turned around to see an urge of cold air from the window go up my spine.I shivered from the cold wind. There was nothing except gray things on the ground. I looked