My Hero's Journey: A Narrative Fiction

Hannah the MII woke up and got dressed into her favorite racing suit. She hopped into her shiny, blue, new, bright car. The whirl of the engine flew as they lined up. Mario said “let's-a-go” before the beginning of the race. Hannah had a feeling that something was going to go wrong but forgot the fear. They were in the moo moo meadow and were so excited. Just then the ghost held up the sign that said “3-2-1” and the karts flew with a blink of an eye past the starting line. Mario raced into first place as he got the extra boost, while Hannah was stuck without the boost but was making her way to 6th place.

As I was hunting through the mystical forest Herot looking for the meal of the night.I was to return to the cave by 9 o’clock to tuck in my precious son to bed.He had a fever that kept on going up and down,and the only thing thing that could help him was a small monster in the forest.I felt this sudden pain in my chest.I ignored the feeling thinking it was just a normal heart burn.I killed the little monster and brought it back home expecting Grendel to be in bed sleeping.I flew into the cave and called out to him.

Zachari's grandmother showed the QP the court documents the probation officer left that reports he has 20 hours of community services, have no contact with the co-defendants, curfew set by the parent, and contact with his probation officer.

I was so into the song that I didn’t see Evy slip away into the back of the stage where she had hymned the background music. The audience erupted into a roar. Everyone in the audience stood up. A person was walking towards the stage. I recognized him immediately. His name was Ansel. He was a college scout for Juilliard. He asked to see me after the show.

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

Zeke and I has been together for a year and a half. Zeke and I met August 28, 1993 I was working at the mall at the time, in a man's clothing store; and he come in with his cousin Junior. I ask them if they needed help and Junior say yes, because his the one that was buying some clothes, so instead of me helping him I started talking to Zeke and didn't help Junior at all.

Three grueling days of marching. until we arrived at a small village. To the center plaza we marched, many of the frightened and confused villagers had gathered there. The legate leading the legion began reading a memoir written by a team of scouts on the horrid atrocities the Hunnic hordes have committed. We needed their support in the fight so they would agree to supply us with the provisions that had been rapidly depleting. Just before he had finished a scout rode into the plaza bloodied and battered he warned us of the Huns and there overwhelmingly large force before finally dying of his injuries. The villagers began to panic and some fled with their belongings. The Legate tried to comfort them telling them we can ensure their safety. We fortified the town built an castra. It was all we could do. Later that evening after I took a small excursion I could see the torches and the yurts atop the craggy mountain. It also became apparent that the terrain advantage they had could not be overcome by our inferior numbers. Evan so the legate informed us we would begin marching on the hill the next morning. I couldn't sleep knowing that death awaited us the at dawn. I went to the mess hall for a hiatus. While there a centurion asked me to take his shift at night watch. I humbly complied.

Change is inevitable. Whether it be positive or negative, change is constantly happening. More than often change can take you from the known world and spit you into the unknown, where you return a changed person. While embarking on the journeys provoked by change, you are on a hero’s journeys. The hero’s journey was popularized by Joseph Campbell. When describing what prompts hero’s journeys, Joseph Campbell said,

I am an independent individual with my own thoughts and my own actions. Unfortunately, however, I am also a younger sister, and I would unhesitantly and mindlessly follow my older sister anywhere, whether what she was leading me to was into an established university or into an abandoned warehouse. If my older sister asked me to jump, then I would ask her how high. If my older sister told me we were going to spend our Sunday afternoon watching Aziz Ansari on Netflix, then I would bring the popcorn. We sat there, that luminous Sunday afternoon, watching the hilarious Indian comedian remind the electrified audience about the courageous travails and journeys of immigrants coming into America. My sister and I laughed as Ansari bantered about the

"Knock knock," I hear coming from the door. I open the door carefully to avoid alarming any other rebels at this hour of the night. Lincoln bounces through the doors with armfuls of food and supplies.

From a distance, all you could here was the subtle noise of people screaming. The wind was blowing slightly and there was a light sprinkle in the air, but the weather wasn’t stopping these people. As the hollering slowly quiets down, a group of five or six friends walk out of the arena laughing and talking amongst each other, having the time of their lives at their favorite singers concert.

Slowly, pairs of eyes turned our way, the music slowed, and by the time we reached the bottom, the entire room’s attention was on us. Brief whispers ran through the crowd, and smiles grew on many faces.

As a young child, I have always had a passion to sing. My mother always told me “You are just wasting your time, Justin.” I signed up for many singing competitions, along with spent my nights practicing and writing songs. Although I was discouraged by many, I never lost the determination to make a career out of my voice. One summer evening, when I was sixteen years old, the opportunity of a lifetime was presented to me. I was sitting on my couch watching the local news. The news broadcaster announced that they were having a Burnsville’s Got Talent, and that the winner would get to meet a record producer. I knew this was my time to show the world how good I actually was.

Engulfed by the pitch-black stage, I followed the sound of footsteps made by the other members of my choir. Step by step, each passed towards the center stage. My legs started to get tremulous, and my mind cluttered with every lyric and dance step I practiced for months. I was losing control of every part of me. “Next on stage we have the all-girls Diamond Bar show choir, Solitaire,” a man proudly announced as a wave of cheers followed. As the curtain slowly rose, my heart felt as if it was going to erupt. It was my first show choir performance since nearly three years, and in the back of my mind there was still a voice telling me that I can’t do it. The stage lights flashed, and at that split second, everything from the past

"I left" echoed in my head, rousing me from sleep. A loud buzzing overtook my ears like a hive of bees churning. It sounded so close. It was 8:00 in the morning and auditions began at 10:00. I slipped on a pair of dark denim jeans and a navy halter top.