My Narrative Story Of My Survival Story

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

I never thought that I would be saving someone life from drowning. That was until my friends and I did help someone. Which was something that happened very fast.

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

I began storytelling long before I could read or write. But it was only when I began writing that I realized how much more complicated crafting a narrative was than I initially thought.

I stared, face pressed against the glass window, leaving smeared breath marks. Trying to get my last glance at the house, but my tears making my vision blurry. I could see faint outlines of my friends waving goodbye, I knew I’d never see them again. The car was dead silent besides the sniffling and the sound of the car going over the bumpy road as we drove up the road until the house, my friends, and neighborhood were out of sight. I was born in Framingham Massachusetts and we lived there happily for years. My siblings and I had lots of friends there and we also had family close by. One day, we found out that we were moving to Sudbury, my dad’s hometown. My parents came to assent and had decided that this wasn’t the place they wanted my siblings

It had been around 42 days. I had no way to know when the sun was rising or setting; I only had my sense of time. They came in every day and gave me a small loaf of bread, some sort of meat, and only enough water to wash down my food. It was not enough to give me strength only enough to keep me alive. I was not sure where I was or even how I got there. The only thing I knew was that I wished I could go back home to my loving family.

Everyone remembers a time in their lives when their mom came through and saved the day. Mine happened to happen at 1:30 AM on a Saturday morning. To fully understand the story I’ll give some background.

I stare at the TV with incomplete fascination, my pencil tightly gripped in between my fingers.

The girl who I’d grown up with since preschool had a small tremble in her hands and couldn’t write legibly. Being bullied at a young age and didn’t pick up a pencil for the rest of elementary school, took its toll. But she sung the loudest songs and kept you on the edge of your seat with the passion that flowed from her vocal chords. She could talk for hours on end and listen just as well. She did all her work vocally and may have gotten the best grade in the class. Never giving excuses and always taking the hard route, and continued humming along the way.

In the year 2008, I attended elementary school enrolled in the third grade. I enjoyed outdoor activities with a burning passion, and I had many friends. One weekend my best friend Dimitri slept-over at my house, and he and I decided to go on a bike ride with my younger brother. Unfortunately we only had two helmets that functioned properly, but since I always put friends first, I gave my helmet to Dimitri. We were having a great time racing up and down the block until my brother found a pair of rusty broken scissors lying on the side of the road. An awful idea entered his mind at that moment and he decided to throw the scissors at me. During his first attempt he missed and I sped away and yelled at him. Ignoring me, he threw them and missed

Whenever I fight, except with the girl at the school, there seem to be a part of me that is turned off. Everything around me disappears and the only thing that matters is the person in front of me. I’m not angry with them, I don’t want to hurt them, I just don’t want them standing in front of me anymore. The bell rang and he got to swing at me once before I ducked under his straight right and hit him with a right hook. As he turned, next came the left cross followed by a straight right and he was out.

My program is a finals week survival plan that’s themed a zombie survival plan to make the fun and to attract students. The program will focus on teaching relaxation techniques, time-management skills, study skills and going over where study areas are on campus which the students will incorporate into their plan for finals’ week.

It was a hot summer day, my mom and I went to a local target to get some school supplies. I was bored out of my mind. I saw rows of food, school supplies, cereal, drinks, whatever was on your grocery list. Every person who walked by had heaps of food, water, anything you need. Is there something fun to do I thought, and while I was thinking that, something caught my eye. It was the game New Super Mario Bros for the Nintendo Wii. I was tempted to steal it but thought of an even better plan. As me and my mom walked past the section with the game, I quickly took it from the shelf and put it between two cereal boxes.

I caught up on my own breath as he did the same, but I was more embarrassed than him, he appeared relaxed and normal... I was blushing like crazy then he apologize immediately.