My Life - Original Writing

Seven years earlier, I migrated to Hawaii when I was twenty-three. I had flown away from my mother and my life in the Philippines. Like young adults and being rebellious, I wanted to live on my own away from my mother 's roof. I left the city life I grew up with in the Philippines in hope of a better life in another country.

Jane glanced at the main entrance again, and inhaled. Without delay she jerked her face away and gasped for a breath that wasn’t the sickening stench of rotten death—her lungs protested and shrieked in queasiness, as she heard the loud steps and sniffing of something around her and moving in quickly. She heard a clatter of fighting and growls, mingled by screams and wounding howls. Jane knew she’d die if they found her, but she also couldn’t ignore their threats, the cries of the people they were hurting, crunching and severing wings from their back.

In her mind she silently pleaded for death to take her again, for her to not feel anything. Her body hit the ground hard, groaning from the impact she tried to register where she was. She had fallen on something hard and metal. Snakes were crawling over her, tying her down against the railroad tracks.

If I am going to tell the story of my life I might as well start at the beginning, the very beginning, my parents. My mom is Monica Ann Hill. She is a quarter Italian and a quarter German. She was born to Cathleen Trosen and Gary Trosen on August 29th, 1973 in Covina, California. Her parents were divorced when she was a teenager and her mom later remarried to Boud Jackson. My Grandpa Bob. My mom was baptised a member of the LDS Church at the age 16 and went to college at BYU, Brigham Young University, where she met my dad. My dad is Paul Clement Hill. He is a quarter Scottish, a quarter Welsh, and a quarter English. He was born to Audrey Hill and Donald Hill on August 29th, 1973 in Bangkok, Thailand. He was born there because his dad was an international banker. He later moved to many other places ending in Connecticut, USA. He was baptised a member of the church at the age 8. He also went to college at BYU, and after meeting my mom served an LDS mission in California. After his mission they married in the Salt Lake, UT temple.

“Wake up it 's time to go!” My sister vanessa yelled at me as I was packing the last of my things . I was fifteen and I had just arrived to my new home in Garland. I had just moved form Plainview and I was leaving my friends and family that I had grown up with behind. Moving to Garland while still in High School was one experience that changed my life.

“My lifestyle will go with me to my grave,” I thought as I took a sip of my Moscato, sitting at the bar during happy hour in Saltgrass Steak House talking on my cell phone with Akie D. “Man, I’ve been fucking up behind Ingrid’s back bro. I really don’t know what I’m going to do about my latest situation with Ingrid. I have really been acting strange lately.”

BOOM! The doors busted, open gunshots fired. A grenade went off, echoing through the room. Grenade shrapnel flew everywhere. The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I looked down and saw that blood was oozing out of the fresh wound. Suddenly, things started to get blurry, the room was spinning, and then everything went black. My life was flashing through my mind, I was sure that I was going to die. My mind was going all over the place, then it stopped. It stopped where it all began.

I pull the covers back and slowly get in bed. I lean my head back onto the pillow as my head sinks in. Safely tucked away in my bed, I start to think about the stress I have from unfinished homework and upcoming tests. My legs are burning and my body aching from running up and down the court. I 'm exhausted from the long day at school and a rough day at practice; i 'm ready to fall asleep. As I close my eyes everything seems to disappear and I slowly drift asleep.

The winter breeze swept across the ground as I made my way up the hill. The walk home always seemed to calm me. It was the green grass, stretching into the distance and past the horizon, the depth of it was captivating. The trees in the distance swayed in the wind, I used to imagine they were waving to me. The papers in my hand were slowly flapping, as if to show off the big red writing of “100%” scribbled on the front. A humble grin took shaped on my face, but at the same time, I noticed the quick beats of my heart, the tingling in my stomach and the way my fingers slid down my sweaty hands as my fist clenched. I was thinking about the way my parents would react. Things were finally settling down, I really didn’t want to be the one to

A nudge was administered to my shoulder as my eyes crept open. Slowly, a giant man came into my line of sight. He was a tall man with a thick beard and a toothy smile. Between the fold of his lips was a burning piece of cancer puffing out clouds of smoke. Coughing, I bolted up from the metal bed, looking at the mammoth of a man. He started to chuckle while blowing out more smoke. The room filled with laughter as I noticed the other four tattooed men around the room.

We started off with a chaste kiss, and I have to say, kissing his lips once again was one of the best feelings in the world. I started to deepen it, loving the way his lips seemed to roll against my own, and I realized as well that this was definitely the right feeling as well. I know for a fact that this is the right thing that we both needed.

One summer morning around about nine AM I was sound asleep, however until I smelled an unfamiliar odor and not sure what it was I paid it no mind. Before I could get up and wash my face my mother pushed my room door open yelling INDYA GET UP THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!! I jumped up. Our house isn’t but so big, so when I ran out my room, I saw the flames coming out of the kitchen. My first thought was my little brother; his room is straight through the kitchen. My mom then said my brother was not in his room. It was my little cousin; I could barely breathe so I ran outside. Forgetting my phone in the house I quickly go in the house, grab my phone run out of the house. Now let me tell you about this life changing experience.

I should have stopped him, I knew he was too young, his body; too weak, his brain; not smart enough but I still let him go. His mother, Mrs. Robert’s had made the mistake to trust me with her only child, Cameron. I regret what happened to him, he was just an innocent five years old, full of energy and curiosity that I used against him. I wish I could take it all back but I can’t because that poor child is already dead. Only because I let the evil inside me run free and chained the conscience to the back of my brain. That one decision will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I’m about 13 years old, married to a 35 year old man, and pregnant with the son of God while I’m still a virgin. Yes, my life’s going great. I was a Jewish girl getting ready to marry a well-established carpenter, then a man came to me in my house and told me I was pregnant. I was shocked, because I’m only 13 and was still a virgin. Well, it happened. I conceived when the angel told me I would, went into labor on the way to Bethlehem, and gave birth in a stable because the innkeeper didn’t have any room.

There were various places that I dreamt of visiting when I was a child. My whole life, I wanted to visit Spain because of it’s impressive architectural buildings, the culture, and history behind the whole country. Not to mention, the food in Spain is absolutely delightful. As I grew older, I became less fond of my desired destinations. I only cared to visit Spain because of its physical appearance other than to learn about the culture and history. I learned over the years to never “ judge a book by it 's cover.” To explain further, I have fancied numerous of places because they are portrayed as attractive in my eyes. Instead, I’ve decided to visit a place where I can learn more about its culture. Throughout