My Hero's Journey-Personal Narrative

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.

“How much farther?” Tom shouted impatiently as he folded his arms and sank back into his seat.

There is nothing that compares to that last game. It makes no difference how exciting every other game is – that last one-it is like no other. Watching my daughter play the last few seconds of the North Half starter game was both exciting and bittersweet. Yes, there have been many games before leading up to this one, yet, this game seems so different. And, though this game starts the tournament and ends her basketball career, it still represents so much more.

I was nine years old when it happened. I loved Shrek so much, I owned all the movies and the merchandise, I even prayed to Shrek every night, I still do. This night was no different "Shrek is love. Shrek is life." I finish my prayer, thanking Shrek for the life I've been given. My dad overhears me "Faggot." he mumbles under his breath. "Cunt." I reply, I say no more because I know he is just jealous of the devotion and relationship I have with the green lord an savior, Shrek. I can see him grow angrier before he slaps me across the face "Go to your room you disgusting faggot!" he yells. I hold back the tears and I go back to my room, once I'm in the safety in my room I let the rears flow. My face stings from where he hit me. I climb into my cold and lonesome bed, and the suddenly, I feel a warmth move towards me, it runs a large finger down my back.

Coming to in the hospital room surrounded by the doctors was heart-wrenching and frightening. Elizabeth had never been sick for more than a day or so in her entire life, and she knew whatever happened to her would be a life-changing experience.

After I met with the Knights of Columbus, I drove out to my aunt’s place. As we ate lunch, she said, “You know your father was kicked out of the Knights for arguing with the pastor over the parting of the Red Sea,” and she went on to tell me the story. He said an asteroid landed in the Mediterranean Sea, and it had an affect like dropping a rock in a puddle. It pushed the Red Sea into the Gulf of Aden, and by the time the Egyptian Army entered the Red Sea, the waters were returning to their normal elevation.

It has been two years since you passed. It has been a year since I unearthed your vacant coffin with Oskar. Yet, it has been less than a second since you came to my mind. A day has yet to pass where I do not ponder of you, imagine you. I have seen pictures and heard stories of you, yet it always pains me that I could not have a place within them. I know nothing of you, my own child. In fact, I cannot call you, Thomas Schell, mine. There is nothing of me in you, and that will always be my deepest regret. If I had two lives, I would spend them both with you, as if that would somewhat compensate for the unjust life I forced upon you. A life without a father. Though, a boy need-not be raised by man, when a woman as sturdy as your mother is in place. I

I almost trip, the bright light blinds me from seeing my next step. An arm belonging to a body behind me steadies me. I place my hand on theirs as I turn around to see whose arm this belongs to. A dark haired individual grins back at me. I lose my ability to form words, I simply gawk. He chuckles and releases his hand from my waist. Without my command my hand grabs at his. "Just in case." I whisper. He grins and squeezes my hand. I turn around with a smile that blinded the sun.

I've been sitting under this tree for a while as I await the rains to pass. The sun hides behind the endless blanket of storm clouds; a precipice ahead builds with water, and will flood if the rains continues.

When I became a god my sin beckoned. I walked tightropes on mutilated vertebrae, gambled my life with blind echoes. I saw my body outside myself, above myself. My soul was severed from the cities within.

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.

Life always seemed more stressful in the time of the choosing and everyone knew it. When the young men and women went quiet and their demeanors changed you knew they had just celebrated their sixteenth birthday and that the choosing was upon them. Gerald had just turned this age and before he knew it the gut wrenching ceremony would be there. The choosing happened only after an individual progressed to an adult in their life. This annual event determined someone’s trade for the rest of time on the world.

The announcer was counting down and all I could think to myself was, “Please don’t die.” Standing dead smack in the centre of a herd of men and women, all of which were whooping and hollering anticipating the starting pistol to go off. Yet, there I was, praying that my 3 months of training wasn’t going to let me down. 5 seconds to go; and there was no turning back, what laid ahead for all of us was 11 miles and 21 obstacles that were designed to test one’s mental and physical tenacity. It wasn’t a competition; it was a trial. “Here we go!” my best friend Aaron declares sportively with a nudge as the pistol goes off, and our Braveheart charge was underway.

It was truly a wonderful feeling to have the sun on my back and the wind through my knees. Modesty aside, I could run quite fast for a boy my age. Up and down pastoral yellow hummocks; they were to a field what waves are to an ocean overwrought by an impassioned tempest, and I was a vessel rising and falling at the mercy of its ardent ascendency.

The way to my birth place is a long, dreadful and prosperous journey. This place is meaningful and carries lots of memories. Starting with the Harley Davidson bikes that is the first attraction tourist’s love. Leading to the horrifying, empty, and isolated buildings with homeless people in my peripheral vision. In addition to the unpleasant noises from fireworks, and gun shots which sound so close that people want to take cover at any given moment. This place gets so cold that some people have to wear two pair of pants, three shirts, a hat, earmuffs and maybe even five pair of socks just to keep their toes from getting frost bite.