Peach Narrative

“I hate your Arabic!” I snarled in my broken English. My mother stared at me in confusion while I seethed about my heritage internally. For whatever reason, this toxic state of mind stuck with me through my elementary-school years. I promised myself that I would strive to become like everyone else and slowly began to erase my Lebanese culture from my mannerisms.

Stepping out of the car I analyzed the environment around me. A gust of fresh air flowed swiftly through my hair and caressed my face. The temperature outside was mildly warm and humid. Rays of sunshine blazed down upon me and begun to heat up my black t-shirt. The black and rough asphalt crumbled beneath my feet as I walked. I could tell that it was recently paved because of how smooth it was when I slid my shoe across it. Sweat collected on both of my palms because of the anxiety I gathered prior to my visit. Everything on my body seemed heavier at the time. The necklace dangling around my neck. My phone and wallet that rested in my pockets. It was the result of all of the built up tension within me. I had no idea what to expect.

When the rain stopped and the sun started to come out, I finally went to my car. I opened the driver’s side door, sat down, and closed it. I banged my hands on the dashboard multiple times and screamed. The tears came back, streaming down my face as if they were rivers themselves. When at last there were no more tears left to flow out, I turned my head towards the bridge and for the last time, I glared out at the spot where she stood before her

I had been crying since I woke up that day and I was still crying. My sobs had droned on in the background as this stranger touched and sifted and opened each tiny piece of my life. As I watched her, I thought about how private my backpack and its contents always seemed. They were mine, They were to be kept or revealed as I saw fit. But now, I was in the

However,my memory of her lived on in the rain,never fading,never ceasing.Without warning,I felt pain began to take hold of me,but I tried to feel nothing, yet the pain was inevitable.The pain stinged deeply and suddenly a sob escaped my

Armed with her best parasol, she left the house after briefly saying goodbye to her extremely distraught father. Their carriage made it’s way to the fair and dropped them at the front, but after less than two hours perusing the grounds, another storm rolled in. The rain came fast and hard, drenching the pair within minutes. They huddled under the scant protection their umbrellas offered while waiting for the coach. Once inside, they giggled and began peeling off their more delicate accessories, gently laying them out while assuring each other the wet would not harm their

When the Weeping Willow trees became abundant around every sector of the car, I knew we were getting close. Once we passed the bridge by the small, grass bank called Cypher Beach, I could barely sit still in the front seat of my grandparents truck because I knew we were about to arrive. There I sat, waiting anxiously with my size ten feet smashed into a size seven foot box because if I removed them, I affected my grandfather's ability to drive and my grandmother’s ability to sit and look pretty. Even though the flip of the coin always caused me to sit in the front, compared to the comfy back where the other four children sat, it was all worth it when we arrived to our destination. The destination was just up the road, where we turned right

I’m not a daredevil. I like to think about things and decide if it’s a good idea or not. There’s no sense in doing something that you know is not going to end very well. Believe me I still do some crazy stuff with my friends, I’m just the one that keeps the group down to earth. With my parents however, I listen to them with no hesitation. They would never do anything to harm my siblings or me… on purpose. My point of view on this changed a few years ago on and extremely hot day, when my dad had a brilliant idea for me and our dog Peanut.

The smell of the leather upholstery came back and the cold from the steering wheel bit at Michaels' hands. He heard the leather creak as he turned to face his pregnant wife, and he noticed the stiffness of the padded seat caused by the cold. Michael blinked his eyes as he stared at Mary while reaching for the key to start the car. He was so intently focused on the moment, yet at the same time he wondered what the storm had been like so many years ago.

Ounce we arrived at Ringo’s Lakeside Marina, I opened the passenger door to get out and felt this unexpected cool breeze that sent chills down my spine. I reached for my sweater that I had on my seat and slipped my arms through the bottom of the sweater and pushed my head through the top like a turtle. As I was stretching

The story Sugar is about a 17 year old girl named Sugar who is obese and made fun of for it. She finds hope one day when she meets a boy named Evan. Evan meets Sugar one day while looking for his wallet. While looking they become instant friends. The reader needs to understand that Sugar's home life isn't great. Her brother Skunk is an ass. He pushes her around and punches her. And her mom's no better. She's bed bound because of her weight and is abusive, physically and mentally. If Sugar got to close to Mama she'd be thrown to the floor. Sugar's school life isn't so great either. Kids make fun of her every day because they judge her body. Even though everyone else judges her Evan doesn't. He protects and sticks by her. That's why she loves

I vaguely remembered a hurricane coming through when I was but a child. The howling winds and heavy rains had caused much damage to my father’s plantation and to others along the river. At that time, I had never been into the city; now that I thought about it, Angelique was in the city when the storm came- Anastasia had held me and soothed my fears as debris slammed against the wooden shutters that covered the window of my bedroom…

As I parked in the gravel filled lot I settled in my car for a few minutes contemplating homework from each of my classes. I stepped outside with my belongings; there was a slight breeze from the remnants of Hurricane Harvey. Clouds dotted the orange tinted sky as the sun tried to climb up to be fully seen.

It is also assumed that the act of telling a story can provide insight into past, present and future events (Espinoza, 1997). By going through this process, individuals can find the importance of certain events and assign roles to people who are a part of their story. This act can allow a client to find new meaning and understanding to their reality (Espinoza, 1997). Not only is a

It’s cool and dark outside of the car as we drive, dark clouds hovering over the plains as fat, heavy drops of water fall from the full clouds. The lights of cars and streetlights and cars blur with the flow of water on the side windows, our speed not fast enough to force the drops to flow back along the windows. It’s not until we start on the highway and the water starts to move that I find my objects of interest in front of me in the form of the rain and the memories of my childhood that surface with them.