My Experience : The Last Days Of My Life

The day was February 11, 2007. I had just woken up. I went to my closet to get ready for the day, threw on some clothes and went into the kitchen. The day was dark, the atmosphere had an unusual dreariness to it. My mom was in the kitchen making breakfast for my brother, cousin and I. That is when the phone rang. Every day, every hour that phone rings. I never thought my mom ever gets off of it. My mom picks up the phone and it was like a movie, someone calls and receives horrible news and drops the phone from shock. That was this scenario. My mom could not get off the phone any quicker. She calls for everyone to hurry up and get in the car, dressed or in pajamas. I knew something was terribly wrong, did my father die from a plane crash, or did my grandma fall?

Curious, I looked up at the building and suddenly my heart stopped. My muscles contracted and my nerves sent a violent quake through my body. I didn’t notice the dropped cigarette that was burning a hole in my pants. Finally, the pain bit me. I grabbed the cigarette, throwing it out the window while almost swerving off the road. After regaining control, I closed my eyes and reopened them to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating; I wasn‘t. Ten police cars sat in front of the school, all in a perfect line with their drivers standing close-by. I contemplated driving off but it was too late. We had already been spotted.

I woke up at 7AM to continuous, banging on the front door. Next thing I know ten policemen have barged into my room. I’ve not been able to stop replaying the words that came out of my mom’s mouth. They were quivering but sharp, not like the normal sweet and soft sound of her voice in the morning.

I walked into the kitchen and took in the scene before me. An unfamiliar woman stood at the back of the kitchen wearing all black except for a burgundy colored jacket. My father lie still on the tile floor, face-down with a knife in his back. The police say I went into shock after seeing what had happened in the kitchen that night and the images I could remember had been twisted by the horror of what I saw at only nine years old, but I can never forget the words she said to

Later that night, as I was falling asleep, I heard muffled voices outside of my bedroom door, and suddenly the door was kicked in by police officers. I jumped out of my bed and ran over to my oldest sister Christine. She held me and tried to shield me from what was happening. I glanced up from Christine’s chest and saw my Uncle in handcuffs and being frog marched out of our conjoining rooms. Then a female police officer walked over to us and in a soft, sweet voice she said “Everything will be alright,” then proceeded to guide us to the living room. We sat on the couch and the female officer turned the television on for us. Christine told me to try and get some sleep. I listened to her, and I didn’t wake up until the next morning.

In 2011, DeKalb, Illinois, First I was coming back from school when I was 6 years old, my bus dropped me of at my father’s house. Like always, he is in his room sleeping like a baby and sounded like a trumpet using a lawn mower. My father left a note on the table telling me where is the food he made for me, it was beans with tortias. My Mom works at a factory so I see her when I go to bed. One day my dad was mad at me for eating the

I ran across the street and almost got hit by a two bicyclist, I pick up the newspaper lying on the bench dated May 18, 2007. As I flip through the paper I see the obituary of my mother, I knew this wasn’t just a coincidence, this was my chance. I sat down on the same section of the sidewalk I sat before, although now it has many cracks. I repeated under my breath “May 16 2007” several times until finally I was placed on the same street corner again. I’m almost too positive it's the right date so I run down the street and take a left then I take two rights until I approach my driveway. As i’m just about to open the backdoor with the key that’s kept in the seat cushion near the door I realize my parents don’t know me, and I can't just walk in. I head behind the garage to strategize, I came up with the plan that i'll knock on the door and talk to them about a lost dog for a while, hoping to push back their schedule enough to prevent my mom from the

It was a cold February day when I went into work. I was sifting through the newest box of old files and I pulled out a folder. It was stamped unsolved, like all the others. I opened it up and froze. I was my mother’s face, a face I hadn’t seen since I was eight years old. The file had my mother’s name on it. Inside were pictures of my childhood

My dry cracking lips moved slowly, articulating the entire incident to the very people who had ordered me not to take the bullet. I professed my fear that my reckless behavior had led to the untimely demise of someone else. My parents were disappointed, and certainly a little bit shocked, but not angry.

It is a sunny afternoon in 1996 , April 21, San Diego, California. Julie Barnes has just graduated from The San Diego Police Academy. Ever since Julie was seven years old, she wanted to become a police officer. When she was just seven years old, she had lost her favorite stuffed animal. The police brought it back to her and when she saw the police, she wanted to be one. Julie said “ WOW!! Who are you?”, the police chuckled, then said, “I am someone who makes our community safer.” The morning of May 30, at 9:27 AM, the family was leaving for a vacation to Hawaii, Julie’s grandparents lived there. She was extremely excited, Julie and Roxanne couldn’t wait to go snorkeling, scuba diving, sand castle making, and much more. That morning, everything

I kept questioning myself how my fingerprints got there. Maybe the murderer knew me? Or did I sleep walk into my neighbour’s house? That is not possible at all. I was so focused on myself that I did not even hear what the policemen were saying. I then snapped out of my mind and the officer said, ‘Mr Brown? Did you hear what I said? I asked where and what were you doing on Wednesday evening?’ I then replied slowly, trembling while I spoke, ‘I was at home, doing my homework. It was like a typical school night. You can even ask my mum.’ I sounded like a desperate puppy yelping for help. Mum’s voice echoed across the hallway, shouting, ‘Where is my son? He did not do anything wrong! Let me see him right

When I am in a new place my number one fear is getting lost. This fear came true when I was attending a summer program and had an unreliable team leader. Now thinking about it, it was one of the best experiences of my life. The thought that one man made me feel different about being lost is crazy to me. This memory is one that will always make me laugh because of how six teenagers were able to wander around a naval base for thirty minutes.

We had been sitting at the table in silence for 10 minutes. I had confronted Aunt about the papers and she told me the whole story. My parents went to a bed and breakfast in Cambridge, London to celebrate their anniversary. While down there they were shot while out on a late night stroll but the case was never solved. My Aunt and Uncle told me they were in a car crash to spare me the pain of never knowing who killed my parents or why. James finally broke the silence “We should probably get going, it’s getting late.” I agreed and we stood up to leave. My Aunt apologized for the 100th time for not telling me the truth sooner and walked us to the the door. We said our goodbyes and left. I kept thinking to myself about everything I had thought I knew and everything I wanted to know. We had been driving for 10 minutes before I realized I hadn’t said a word to James, who I am sure had questions of his own. “I’m going to Cambridge,” I said and before he could reply I said “I’m leaving tomorrow to find out the

She opened the door swiftly revealing two tall bulky police officers behind with erect waist belts which were accentuated by a gun protruding from the sides of their belts. One officer had his hand gripped firmly on his bulging side pocket and the leaned in listening attentively to my mother’s response. Within moments I watched my strong poised mother become weak and desperate on her knees begging for God’s mercy and the mercy of the officers. The officers opened up handcuffs, tightened them on his wrists and walked my father out the door. My anxious little heart ran from the top of the steps, afraid of the eventuality that comes after unleashing the cuffs. In all the chaos a persistent wave came over me, clenching my heart, gripping my throat and hindering my speech. “No! Mm… This int fair!” I screamed inside. My body burned with fury as I turned to one of the officers and asked “What’s happening?” He looked at me then at my mother and responded,

Three months prior, my brother and I spent our last days in the home we grew up in, combing through the wreckage left behind by the movers. Attempting, without success, to decipher what leftover had value, both monetary and sentimental. By the time we had loaded up the U-Hall to its brim, the content of its belongings were far more in the latter. Pieces of time we refused to let go.