Narrative Essay About My Escape

This book is about a slave with a half-white mother and a white father. He was born in North Carolina and missed death in the first few days of his life. His mother's mistress wanted to kill him because he was the son of his mother's slave master. She went to his mother's room at night with a knife but his Grandmother saved his life. Not to long after that he and his mother were sold.

Hello Mr. Garcia this is Sasha Arcaya id number 0039478 i was in the dance magnet and was going to be a 10th grader First i would like to ask to please hear me out. Around august 21 i switched schools to Southwest Miami senior high school and i deeply deeply deeply regret it. i dont belong in a school like that i am a very classy lady I DON'T act like most girls their, leaving MAS was the worst decision i have ever made in my life! I made my mother cry she hated southwest she thought that i was going to become a bad person. I had all of my friends at MAS when i started southwest the first day i got bulled really badly in mas i was at home. i honestly don't know why i left, i left for the JROTC program in southwest but is that really worth it?

Growing up, I had a lot of amazing people to look up to, including my father. He was my hero and was always encouraging me to push myself and try new things. My father was in the military for many years and was a drill sergeant, so he was very good at persuading people to do things, my six year old self included. He taught me many lessons in life and has helped me grow as a person.

Brian heard the screaming from around the corner as he ran, from his sick classmates. He grabbed Mia’s hand as he ran, pulling her into the library where they barricaded the door, and hopped that whatever was outside would soon go away. As they sat Brian thought about his sister Alica, his best friend Tyler, and the rest of the theater club. Hoping that they were ok, but also knowing that they could become one of them at any moment. When Brian looked at Mia he could see the fear, and the tears building up her eyes. He held her hand tighter, and tried to give her a reassuring look, even though the possibilities of them ever getting out were slim to none.

I didn’t know how to grow up. No one was there to tell me what I should say and, more importantly, what I shouldn’t say to others.

I used to be a shy, little freshman. I never raised my hand in class, because I didn’t think it would make a difference. I didn’t participate in activities, because I didn’t think it would make a difference. I didn’t try to change the world, because I didn’t think I would make a difference.

I entered the world as a dreamer…not exactly I arrived into the world screaming so emphatically my face was flushed red but yes as time progressed my imagination spiraled, but first let's rewind. April 6, 2004 was a particularly humorous day for my mom, she waddled into the waiting room for her monthly checkup with the OB/GYN doctor very pregnant, the doctor concluded that she was five centimeters dilated and asked politely if she was having any contractions my mom strongly spoke, “No.”. The doctor was in between crossroads she didn’t want to send my mom home, fearing she could have the baby at home or in the car, but there was no explanation to monitor or keep her overnight. The doctor explained the risks of going home, and informed my mom

He watched for a moment, and then said, “I’m on leave, what, you don’t think I’d come home for my own vacation?”

I was so annoyed with this hike for the fact that the mosquitoes were so bad it's like when my little brother throws a bunch of legos at me, and the night hike has started. This hike is called the sensory hike it's at night and it's when we do our solo hike AT NIGHT it's gonna be so scary. When the hike started it was I should be thinking more positive but so much could happen in the next couple hours. I have been so tired from atwood the hikes take FOREVER and they make your legs hurt a lot. After walking for like an hour my group and I finally went to the stop for the solo hike.

It’s 9:00 at night. It’s been a long day at camp, filled with baked oatmeal and blob time, friendship bracelets and flagpole. My cabin, Mohave, has just finished our night swim at the Richard G. Marsh. While we wait to shower back at the bunks, we belt out High School Musical tunes, and feast on the treats from our care packages. But today, something is different.

Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.

I was eight years old and on the run from the cops. I saw a cop car and my chubby cheeks suddenly paled. I turned and ran, my hair snapping in the wind. I did not realize that my situation could get worse. How did it come to this one may ask? Well, let me start at the beginning.

It was a misty morning right above the ocean’s surface. My brother’s head, along with seven others, was bobbing in the waves and obscured by the morning haze. The sun had just broken the horizon and emitted its luminous rays of scarlet red, orange, and pink underneath the clouds. Beyond the clouds was the sky, an endless pool of blue. I felt like I had jumped into a picture of a brochure. Subsequently, reality came back to me and I no longer felt pleasant emotions from the scenery.

“Go ahead and bother the cashier while I take our bread.” my own aunt said “Today I will grab some extra honey for French toast.” We were living with my aunt since our mother left us. By we I mean me and my five sisters. We were struggling to feed everyone back then, ten people in total, and it was just as normal as people buying stuff in the store. It was considered normal for me to shoplift with my family.

I was barely eleven years old, and almost in middle school when my parents decided I could have my own room. Until this day, I still suppose it was because I would be coming out of elementary school and needed to start learning what it meant to hold responsibility with my newfound independence. Little did I know that by taking the smallest bedroom in our house, I would learn a lesson far greater than my parents or even myself would have expected.