One Day Dinner Narrative

Suddenly my eyes flew open, the coldness slowly lingered away. My body felt warm. Almost as warm as how my mouth felt the last time I had sipped on my grandmother's tea. My grandmother always told me to have faith and to believe in the end everything would be alright. I felt the frigid saltwater against my skin. “Where am I?” I thought to myself. I couldn’t quite recall what had happened nor where I was. All that I could recall was hearing screams of innocent children and parents trying to comfort

As I took my first step out of the doorway, I felt the ice below my feet and heard the wind whispering in

We were all encouraged to choke down as much food as possible. Any kind of energy was essential. A melancholy atmosphere hung heavy as the journey progressed. Minutes walking slowly progressed into hours, the sky seemed to darken steadily. All of us were oblivious to the danger shrouded by the dim evening. Only moments after scaling a rather steep ledge did nature dice to turn sour. A deafening rumble made each climber perk up. Snow began to descend at an alarming rate. Thunder began to mic the steady beating of a drum, causing more concern among the ranks of climbers. The powdery snow became more of a risk than ever, climbing under pressure and leaving nothing to stand on. Third base was more than three hours away. Three hours wasn't possible at the rate. Snowfall this bad could be detrimental to the climb’s success. Snow obscured vision and numbed faces. Shouts and orders deemed lost in the screaming wind; people’s figure became shapeless blurs frantically shifting, hoping if they struggled against the wind hard enough, they might find someone. Of course, this was to no avail. Not a single person doubted their demise would come at this point: the stakes were high and no-one could play too well against Mother Nature. The snow crept up to knee-level, making it harder and harder to travel. Death and I were face-to-face. To some, they couldn't bare the idea of dying up here; they had families and friends, children who need parents and

A lone candle burns into the senseless night. Its wax trickling down its side. I stare at the clock and it is barely half past nine, yet time seems to stand still. I stare at the window and investigate the nasty mesmerizing blizzard falling outside my window. I could not grasp anything other than the snow. All I can do is moan as each passing second this bloody snow lingers and destroys my vision of a perfect Christmas, in which Santa would come and visit me in my sleep. At the time I was only four but I treasured Christmas and the snow surrounding it. Little did I know the damage that it would entail into my life.

Three days earlier on a wintery morning. I walked out of my warm apartment, as the cold breeze instantly smacked me in the face, even with my woolly, Christmas themed sweater and thick, quilted coat I was still cold. The sky was washed with grey clouds, as the ground was covered in crisp, white snow. The wind whooshed and whistled past my ears giving me the shivers; I quickly ran through the deep,

The woods are silent once more, other than the occasional gust of wind. It had to be at least zero degrees Celsius, yet it physically felt like I was on a beach, the rays of the sun warming up my whole body. It was such a nice feeling. One that I never wanted to go away. The 1000 mile stare adds on of course. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Away from the constant gunshots flying over my head. My adrenal glands are finally relaxed. But what was that aura? What were those things? Why was I shown this? These same 3 questions stormed my head and would never leave for as long as I live. I began to get self conscious. I probably looked like an idiot standing there, staring malevolently into nothing, my rifle hanging to my side and my mouth wide open. I shook out of it and continued on straight back St.Petersburg. I had no idea why I was walking there, but I couldn't stop myself. My legs were just working autonomously. The walk was much the same throughout the whole sections of the woods. Nice clean white blankets of snow covering the icy ground beneath me. I began to think about my family. My wife Kasia, where was she now? Hopefully she knows what I’m doing, walking at a baren pace to something. My son Johnnas, should now have turned five. How is he doing without a father right now? On my path, It is impossible not to fall into the 1000 mile stare. Accompanied by the sound of boots escaping snow. How long until I get

The day after Thanksgiving my family had a reunion for my grandmother on a boat because

This is the story of how my brother, Cole, got impaled by a kitchen night in his rear end. The plot began during a family gathering at my house with my grandpa, grandma, aunt, my parents and of course, Cole, my brother, on March 6th 2016. We were celebrating my grandpas – who knows how old – birthday by playing a few games of cards, enjoying a nice home cooked meal and talking with each other about new and fascinating things that were happening in our lives. After we had all finished eating, it was my and my brother’s job to clean off the table, do all the dishes and make sure the kitchen was spotless like we are to do every night after our meal. As we were tidying up the kitchen, my family was still chatting amongst themselves at the dining room table. Cole and I usually like to play around in the kitchen, and we joke around with one another all of the time. This is where our playing choices started to get a little bit dangerous, even though what we were doing seemed to be harmless. We were doing small turn, bickering about who was going to do what, and pretending we were ninjas. We knew, which is common sense that you shouldn’t play rough in a kitchen, so we figured out the idea to pretend like we were doing so. As I was pretending to karate chop him, and the two of us were acting like five year olds, I kicked my foot out while holding onto a few plates, my brother laughing and having a good time. He jumped backwards, thinking I was actually going to kick him, and right

It was a frigid February Sunday. In the suburbs of Washington DC, the weather is like an infant, no knowing what it will do. I began my day gloomy, as I have been for the past couple of days since the day Maa passed away. I raced the sun to see who could get ready quicker, and I won. My head felt quite cool for I forgot that my hair had nearly been shaved off. I had the taste of chocolate milk in my mouth from last night, the warm mug that my aunt gave me. My next challenge was to get around this labyrinth in my room to the bathroom. Instead of rustic walls, the walls consisted of guests laid across the floor, staying at our place for today.

Everything was dark, Christopher was nowhere to be found. I was alone my biggest fear came to life as I looked at it in the mirror. In my hand I held a handful of painkillers in my hand with cough syrup. “HELP, I CAN'T BREATHE” I yelled, it was official, no one was there for me. I was on my own with no way out. Standing in my own puddle of blood from my stabbed back my fear became a reality. Where’s my manners, my name Aisha and this is my story about betrayal. It all started thanksgiving dinner, oh I was in awe to see my family. It's been nearly 5 years since we sat at a table all together, but we had been reasons. The last we saw one another was at my sister's faith funeral, she killed herself from depression. “Okay the table is set ”, my

Gazing and gazing, wishing and wishing I would wrap myself in my dreams of utter coldness, expecting some warmth from the sleeping sun. The moon would taunt behind my back, too, asking again and again all these questions I couldn’t answer. It’s like sometimes we know the truth, but we aren’t willing to except them. Churning, churning, spinning, spinning, looking, looking, and searching, searching. . . . It’s a fool’s game really. You spend your days walking in this snow globe, but the door is never found. That door—yes, that door—could lead you to somewhere—somewhere great.

The harsh ding of the frozen bell woke the slumbering snow. The frail cabin walls offer little shelter as Ppeople enter and cluster into groups shivering with their tattered clothes and muddy arms around the frail wooden cabin. A man in the groupYuri turns to observe the walls of the campof his internment before entering. Men on the wall stride passionatelyrelentlessly, staring down at the group like eagles observing their prey.

So let’s get started. Today started like any other lonely and cold winter morning. We ate some canned beans, and drank some melted snow. After our breakfast, we started on our daily journey; heading south. Father tells me that we must reach the coast as soon as possible, or we won’t make it through the rest of winter. He has never told me what is at the shore;

The evening went smoothly, and everyone talked late into the evening. At 11 pm the group decided to call it a night and Jackson had every intention of having a romantic night with Jackie if she’d oblige him, but he wouldn’t force the issue if she didn’t. But, if he ripped out the sutures and bled all over her, she’d have to patch him up, and that would ruin the moment. If the only thing they did tonight was sleep in the same bed, he was good with it since he’d felt so safe the night before, safer than ever at the ranch. So, if she just wanted to cuddle, he was good with that too. He wanted their first time to be very special and private, so maybe in the house with his godparents upstairs and probably listening wasn’t the best place for their

My mission was simple. Find some lost scientist who left to do some research in the heart of Antarctica. I set out as quickly as I could; I was in a race with frostbite. All I had with me was my pack of dogs dragging a sleigh filled with rations and thermal blankets. The cold temperature was harsh, I could feel it snatching the heat from my body, the snow was blinding and traversed as far as the eye could see, everywhere I looked there was only white, as blinding as the sun. With the stomping and barking of my dogs as they ran through the deep snow jumping in and out showing absolute courage as they ran through the harsh winds whipping at their bodies. The further I traveled the less I seemed to have moved; everywhere you looked, it was all the same. Time moves fast, as night draws closer with every bark and howl, creeping up on us ready to strike. I set up camp for that night; fire illuminating the darkness like a guardian angel and the dogs all huddled around absorbing the warmth into their cold bodies. As I settled down for rest, I heard a crack. Not long after another larger cracking sound pierced my ear. The dogs could sense something was going on and started barking to warn me. The floor underneath my tent collapsed and I fell through surrounded by snow and no light, my guardian angel was lost, and with that so was my chance for survival. I hit a slope of the hill and rolled down until I hit the bottom hard and instantly had an eerie feeling like landing in some