Narrative Essay Examples

“School made us ‘literate’ but did not teach us to read for pleasure.” -Ambeth R. Ocampo

At this point in my life I find myself in an interesting predicament regarding my attitudes toward reading and writing; more so towards reading. Years ago I used to love reading books for pleasure but nowadays I find myself reading things that little to no effort to digest. This includes the very basic posts on facebook expressing one’s opinion on something or articles and threads on reddit discussing topics I find intriguing. Perhaps it’s the severe senioritis that has overcome me as I enter my last semester at Chapman University. As I’ve gotten lazier I can see it start to reflect in my everyday life. Deep down I still love to read but I rarely find myself getting truly invested into the action unless it relates to something I am very

It was almost night so we ate dinner my aunt made and went to sleep so I can say that was just my first half-day in America! Next day I woke up and we had breakfast and then we went for short walk near neighbor hood as we would usually do in India, but it was really different. I was shocked when I barely saw people walking in our neighborhood. The street was very quite it seems like no one even lives here. In India you will see so many people on the street in daylight at least.

I never thought the day would come where I’d have to admit to myself I had an addiction. The hardest part was to except the fact I was an addict of painkillers and admitting it to my family so that I could get the help and support needed to get clean. The road leading to my addiction started with the factors of my childhood, always trying to fit in and not being supported emotionally from my parents. Having a child at the age of sixteen was the second factor, which made me grow up faster than a normal child at my age would have had to. Living the life of an addict was a struggle everyday but, getting help was the hardest part of it all. I’ll live with this disease for the rest of my life because recovery is a

Writing has always been my most difficult part of English. Reading, on the other hand, is something I could do all day; however, with writing, I grimace just thinking about it. It was not that I did not have anything to say, because I actually have quite a bit to say. I just could never figure out how to phrase what I had to say in just right way on the page. My mom taught me to read and write at a young age. After that, I would devour any book that I could get my hands on. However, I have had trouble with writing since it became more than just my alphabet and numbers.

I palpated the presumptuous malignant lump in my right upper abdominal area over, and over again. At the time I was ten years-old and thought that maybe I was delirious at one in the morning. The lump would not disappear. I palpated so often that the skin became tender with a single touch. I was terrified of a simple little lump in my body. A little lump that was capable of making an even larger impact on my life. It may seem rare that a ten year-old was constantly assessing their entire body for lumps, but it was a ritual for me every night before bed. At ten years-old I was fascinated with the quickly developing disease called cancer. Books and movies involving cancer fascinated me and was often my favorite to witness.

The bell rang for second period statistics and everyone frantically discussed their exhilarant weekends and rustled in their seats. Focused, I eagerly flipped back and forth between notes attempting to solve the problem on the board when a particularly blunt comment caught my attention a few desks in front of me. “Why are you wearing a girl backpack?”, a female classmate playfully exclaimed to another male classmate from across the room. My teeth clenched as a million thoughts raced through my head and I felt the muscles in my face creating an alarmed reaction. The male student argued back boldly, “It’s not a girl back pack!” I placed both hands on my forehead and closed my eyes for a few moments. They disputed over the backpack for a lengthy thirty-seconds before the teacher strolled around the room checking homework.

As I am trying to beat the clock, seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours, and nonetheless did I knew, it was already eleven post meridiem. My eyes are desperately yearning for sleep, but my brain is forcing myself to continue, because it knows there is more books assignments and quizzes for AP Psychology, AP Art History, AP Chemistry, AP Calculus, AP Language and Composition, and Academic Decathlon just waiting on my desk. Desperately typing the last few words on my essay and simultaneously reading the last few pages of my history book, I finally succeed with a mere two minutes before James Harden appear on the Late Late Show, and I finally go to sleep. Nonetheless did I know, this was only the beginning, the real race is

I sat down on the old wooden chair that was in the middle of the kitchen, everything was quite cramped together but we didn’t mind. He put a plate down in front of me and then plopped two pieces of toast on it. I thanked him and then hastily ate my food. I checked the clock on

Story telling is a uniquely human attribute. It is an imaginative process between the composer and responder that invites us, as the audience to engage vicariously with the experience of others. Stories or narratives have been shared in all culture as a mean of education, entertainment and also to notify the audience of the values and belief systems of our culture. The texts of ‘Through the tunnel’ and ‘Green tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe’ conspicuously highlight the ability of storytelling to empower the individual and outline storytelling as a device to inform us of values and people’s transmission is able to transcend time.

The countless hours spent going over flashcards for my SAT words, pouring over AP notes, taking extra swings in the cages, and the airplane rides back east flashed before my mind as the phone rang. It seemed like my whole future would be decided in this one moment. I was confident that I had done everything I possibly could, and it was daunting to know that now the decision was not under my control. I knew I had worked my butt off to try and get this spot on the Harvard softball team, my biggest goal. Hands and voice shaking, I took a deep breath and pressed “Answer.”

I’m Noah Myers, a 17 year old homeschool senior and Running Start student at FVCC. This quarter I’m starting my journey to manhood with 11 general credits. Though I’m not confident in my career direction yet, I am confident that God will reveal his plan for me as I pursue classes while trusting Him to lead me. Years ago God gave my mom a verse which crazily fits my personality. ​ Joshua 1:9 ​”Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the ​LORD​ your God will be with you wherever you go.” ​I used to be a big worrier,well, I still am sometimes but the more I get to know God, the more convinced I am that He knows best and loves me completely. It’s all about trusting Him to be Master because

"So what have you been up too." he asks, sneaking a glance in my direction "I haven't seen you since before break."

Children have a tendency to bring out the very best in people. I can say I have been fortunate to have four little blessings of my own. I consider each of them as a blessing and each day I am reminded of how much they mean to me. My children have brought out the best in me--parts that I never knew existed. As children grow, so do parents. I have evolved into a better person with the courage to overcome all obstacles because of the love that I have for my children.

Ah, Monday’s the start of a new week; there is nothing like waking up in the morning filled with exhilarating excitement for the week to come. I woke up feeling like I lost a cage match with Rocky Balboa. I ached everywhere for no reason what so ever. Getting out of bed was a great endeavor I threw back the covers and planted my feet onto the floor. Still sitting I grabbed my right thigh with my opposing arm and pulled popping my back.