My Hero-Personal Narrative

As the soldier left I stood there and thought about what I had just heard. This could not have happened! If Ra would just have listen to what I told him we’d all still be living and perfectly fine. So after a few hours I decided to do something for myself that would give me a chance at surviving. I decided that I would grab all the food I could for myself, and I would set out on an adventure to survive

I feel a cold chill as I slide my helmet down my greasy black hair. As I rub my right hand over the smooth metal of my handgun. I listen to the crashing water bashing into the side of the boat. Suddenly it stops, to create an eerie silence. We’re here. I kneel down and tighten the laces of my boots. As I let go of the laces, I realise that my hands are shaking unbearably. I still can’t believe that this is happening and a part of me wishes that I was back home or that I could just stay on the boat as everyone else invades Cobblers Bay. The sound of the heavy thud of boots echoes throughout the room as my comrades climb up the ladder. Christian quietly sobs as we prepare are gear. We met at school and have been friends ever since. He never wanted to join the army but he had no other choice as he was a conscript like me.

In drama, story telling, myths, a religious ritual, psychological development and even in life there's a hero's journey. The hero's journey is basically multiple steps describing the adventure of “The hero”. A hero to me is someone who has courage, who did something amazing, someone you can look up to. Even though I am not a typical hero there are times when my life follows the hero's journey with archetypes such as the herald, loyal companion , threshold guardian.

The unfortunate event began a completely new and terrifyingly dreadful life experience in which all my previous hard endeavors of securing the structurally sound habit of dedication, commitment, and studying I exercised extensively during my senior year, with the inner weapon of possessing powerful agency to absorb material with an extreme passion and letting my heart beat madly on long-distance runs whenever possible were indeed losing their color at a quickening pace. Suddenly I began to doubt my worth and the world’s lessons soon disappeared from my unawakened consciousness. The delicate networks of improvement and inner faith were becoming swept into a tide wayward, far out to sea where the light of my touch couldn’t embrace it.

The bittersweet defines me. These moments seem to chase me, to tear me down and build me back up. It was in Hyderabad, India. A city filled with the earnest cries of chaiwalas urging you to buy their steaming teas, the exuberance and chatter of countless people as you walked down the worn streets, the occasional herd of buffalos that seemed to give you judgmental side glances, but at that moment it felt empty. Thirty-two hours left—our flight was leaving back to Alabama.

As we stepped off the plane, there was an immediate rush of warm air when we took the stairs down to the tarmack. After the five hour plane ride in the cold, small plane, it felt nice to stretch out in the sun. We walked off of the tarmack onto the sidewalk that led to the parking garage and were immediately greeted by a kind man. He welcomed us to his country and directed us towards the correct direction. As we left him behind, he shouted “pura vida” to us. This was the first time I ever heard this phrase and I had no idea what it meant.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Alayne Karola Voss, she was a loving mother a dedicated worker and a woman who spent her life helping others.” The crowd was silent as the child of the deceased stood in the sand surrounded by loved ones. Many people came to pay tribute to the woman they adored, her body now severed from her soul and turned to ash. “My mother as all of you know a would not want today to be a day of tears and longing but rather a day of remembrance and joy. A day to gather and think of all the times you shared with her, good and bad.” A few small smiles spread throughout the blanket of black, as the waves washed up on the shore the woman dearly loved.

Driving over 1,700 miles is not the most enjoyable thing to do; especially when you’re moving. It’s not so rough when you have time to stop and sightsee. But when your truck and a moving truck are full of household and personal items sightseeing is out of the question. That means stopping and stretching legs comes when a truck needs to be filled up and windows washed. The nice thing about having a teen driver is they get to experience the “thrill” of driving across country on roads and highways that are not jam-packed with cars.

My body began to shake ,and my eyes began to wander. I had never been in a situation as intense and horrifying as that one. Little did I know my life would be changed forever.

He longed to see what his touch would do against anything, but Jem wore gloves, and Alistair was scared.

A little advantage can go a long way, this advantage, though, is something else. It all started on February 3rd, a moment of peril, a scary moment, a generous amount of commas, a crash! A car crash! Well, almost. I was riding my skateboard like usual, casually moving along, when I saw a car! but then I noticed something, The car went from 40 to 0 without major impact on anything. Soda was coming out the window but suspended by gravity so I walked over, put the lid back on and, drank the remaining soda. I saved my skateboard and thought, "C'mon, go!" and time started again. "Wait what?" I asked myself in pure confusion. I used this power to take candy from the top of the fridge and cheat on tests, know typical boy stuff, heh heh. I felt like a kid in a candy store, with $100,000,000 that is. I was the happiest little boy until a thought pierced my skull like an inch wide drill. Somebody was going to find out, "Ooh look at that teleporting kid stealing candy" I also felt bad about all the candy I stole, and the stomach ache wasn't helping one bit. I went out despite what I did and thought about it. I apologised for what I did and I went out for a walk in the forest, I really wasn't thinking was I? No, probably not.

As I was walking, kicking dirt behind me, the sound of large boots startled me. Making me walk faster. I continued up the trail then ever, my heart racing almost as if I had just ran a one mile race. I told myself it was all in my head,because normally that helped. The sound got, louder until it was in my ear. I spun my head around only to see nothing. Pleased I turned around and continued to walk. My normally quiet and playful dog, began to bark and stop dead in her tracks.Almost as if she was yelping for help.

My Hero’s Journey started when I left the comfort of my island home. As I reflect on who I was then and who I am now, I can see that my self-concept, the perceptions that I hold of myself, has evolved over the years (Alder, Rosenfeld, Proctor II, 2013 p. 66). While the “fundamental characteristics of my personality” have stayed the same, I know that the authors of Interplay correctly state that, “however, it is likely that in important ways you are changing- physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually” (p. 72). Through the lessons and skills learned from this class, the way in which I communicate with my family has also undergone change.

The soft, waterlogged dirt pushed its way between my toes whilst I marched on along the river as it coursed bend after bend. The flexed limbs of oak and hemlock trees hugged each other in an elongated stretch to eternity. Wind rustled against the copse. A kestrel landed on a branch in fair proximity to me. I had seen this bird before. He was a small, rotund fellow with a bright blue head and contrasting tan body. Unlike most of his brothers and sisters who had deep blue tips on the ends of their beaks, his was a solid yellow.

On July 19 of 2016 I was sent to University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics to have a surgery done that has took nine years to plan. The surgery was designed to expand the mandible bone, straighten it, and support it with six screws. As I was taken to my surgical room I saw my parents being taken back the pediatric unit to settle into my temporary home. The feeling of not having my parents by my side scared me more than what I was getting prepared for. After all my blood tests and shots I was sent to the surgical room, I remember walking into the room and seeing 20 people preparing for me. While I was being helped on to the bed, someone was placing my compression socks and the intermittent pneumatic compression devices on my legs. Once I got adjusted into the bed they placed a white blanket, intraoperative blanket, and the heated blanket, even though it was only three blankets it felt as if it was crushing me. My nurse held my hand as I started drifting off into sleep.