Narrative Essay About Moving Out

In the heat of summer 2011, I moved from small town Statesboro, Georgia to Columbia, South Carolina. I was only six at the time, so I hadn’t really thought much about moving to a new house, new school, or even a whole other state. In actual fact, I was mostly enthusiastic about moving. This was a both positive and negative experience for my whole family. This was the year my whole life changed.

Nobody really likes to move. At least, I know I don’t. We were living with my grandparents in Tashkent when I was in second grade. We moved into our house in Manhattan when I was about 9 years old. Life was going great. I had lots of good friends that I had been around for a lot. I really liked where we were living and I did not want to leave what I had always known.

Rachel Carson was a scientist and author who took a topic which had hitherto been only of interest to fellow scientists and opened it up to the masses. During her lifetime, she took up many causes in support of wildlife and the protection of species and protecting the natural landscape from potential molestation from developers and others who would destroy indigenous habitats. Among her many missions was to make people aware of the hazards of certain chemicals on the environment, such as pesticides on vegetation as examined in her most famous work Silent Spring.

When my dad and stepmom began talking about moving, I didn’t think much of it. They had moved a lot, so I admit I wasn’t really worried about it. Where they were living then, was my favorite out of all the places they had lived because it was right down the road from my mom’s house. It was easy for my sister, Kelcey, and I to go visit our dad, stepmom, and little sister, Kyra. We could literally just walk, before I had a car, over there almost whenever we wanted. But, that changed when they started talking about moving again.

As I plummeted into the water I thought for a split second that I was safe, until a second much larger splash landed directly on top of me. Before I could even get up for air the unstoppable 100 pound beast began attacking. His long, sharp claws and pointy yellow teeth sank into my skin and life jacket. Unable to swim, the only thing keeping me afloat and alive was my little blue life jacket. The pressure of the relentless dog held me underwater as I nearly drowned.My whole world seemed to come to a halt as I simultaneously struggled to catch my breath while screaming for help. I was quickly inhaling water into my lungs, which culminated into putting me in a traumatized state. In the midst of the struggle, another splash landed directly to my left, my cousin Paul. He ripped the dog off by his metal choker collar and grabbed me by the inflated blue rim of my life jacket. Swimming in the opposite direction of the panting pitbull, Paul dragged me back to the sand where my family sat anxiously in shock. Soon all the attention was directed my way as they watched the tears pour from my

Well we never really found anything as if there was no life in the water. I came up on a big, green, mossy rock that was shaped like a boot that lay in the deepest depth of the creek. I called Destany over to me to help me turn the rock over. I had seen the rock the whole time, but its humungous appearance made me hesitant about lifting or even moving the rock. But I thought there’s got to be something seriously imposing or inconceivable under this giant rock that lurks deep down. We try pushing the rock to the side to loosen its grip on the ground, but it doesn’t help. So we lift the rock over on its side. The water looks all dirty and brown from the crud underneath the rock. Destany looks down though the nasty, brown stirred up water where the rock used to set. She says “Kayla look I think I see something. Do you see it?” I say “Well, no I can’t see anything right now.” We stand still in the water for about one second crouched in and over the water looking for something, anything that seems to not be

People often hear or maybe seen on the news of houses being broken into. We do our best to protect ourselves and our families from the unenviable happening. We have locks, we purchase alarm systems and other forms of defense to keep strangers out and our possessions in. When I woke up on Tuesday, April 6th, 2011, I never imagined someone would come inside of my home and ramble through my things and take from me whatever they wanted. If I could have seen into the future, I would attempt to change the minds of the guys who broke into my apartment.

My head bobbed in the water, allowing my arms and legs to tread. A smile grew on my face when I saw how calm the water was, up and down and back and forth, moving in a constant wave. Before I could react, my head went under, held down by two large hands wrapped around my neck. I attempted to fight whoever was pushing me farther into the water, but my efforts were futile. My hands latched on to those of my attacker; my hair swirled over my field of vision. I screamed and let the air escape, but water filled my lungs, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. More and more water weighed me down, hundreds and thousands of feet deeper than I could handle. My body gave out; I couldn’t keep fighting. The hands around my neck squeezed tighter and tighter. Breathing was impossible.

C: The last time I went to the doctor, my left hands were unable to move. They suggested that I move it slowly until it felt a little better. That is literally all I did when I went over there.

October 16th, 10:30 p.m. Somewhere in the town of Freeburg, in a dimly lit bathroom in the middle of town. There she stands in all her glory with the razor in front of her, starring herself down in the mirror, scissors in hand.

There she was, 3” lift, 33” tires, sound system that could blow your ears off if perfectly tuned just right. I had finally gotten it, my 2005 tacoma, offroading monster. She was a beautiful black pearl with a gorgeous punisher skull on its skid plate. I still remember the first time i sat in it, the smell in the air with a slight hint of knocked up dust. Turning the key to hear the small rumble of the tiny 2.6L engine fire up. She was never the fastest thing in the world however she was mine, my first offroading truck to take me wherever my heart desired.

I don’t know who I am or how long I’ve been here. I’m in a small room with metal walls, ceiling, and floor. I can almost see a reflection on the wall. I detect some white, and some orange above it, but it’s nothing more than blurs. I am only wearing some kind of black, skin-tight underwear. I reach to feel the wall in an angered, feral state. It feels smooth. The room is empty: just three holes (two inches in diameter) on the ceiling, and a camera on a vertex of the ceiling. The holes look about six inches in depth. I can’t form a single thought. I notice tiny, spherical holes in the veins of my antecubital space. I am fed up being here. Suddenly, I feel my will return. I begin to realize the holes in my arm are from a needle. I can only

I started riding horses at the age of thirteen and then quit two and a half years later at the age of sixteen. The nights I spent at the barn for an eternity were not fun anymore, and as the weeks dragged on it became more of a slow torture to participate in those riding lessons. I had so many other things on my mind and separate activities I wanted to pursue, so I decided it was best to throw in the towel instead of money and time for more lessons. All this having been said, even though it was stressful at this point in my life I still didn’t want to leave behind the horses, friends, and of course the memories I had made in this time span. My trainer and I decided the best way to go out was to do the December Barn Show at the Rocking V Ranch,

Significance of Title: The book 1984 was written in 1949 and is about how Orwell envisions the year 1984.

From the theories made by a group of Social Psychologists; Fritz Heider, Harold Kelley, Edward Jones and Keith Davis, greatly contributed in the development of Attribution theory through time. Attribution theory was written in heider’s first book The Psychology of Interpersonal Relationships during the year 1958 that has been the main part in the origination and meaning of attribution theory. A set of rules of inference Fritz Heider hypothesized that an ordinary individual might attribute responsibility to another individual for an action. Fritz Heider also distinguished between two attributions namely the external and internal attributions. In 1965 the systematic hypotheses by Keith Davis and Edward Jones about the perception of