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Personal Narrative

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It was a bitter autumn day in upper town New York and on top of Times Tower, perched a girl her long auburn hair was dancing like the shadows of trees in the dusk of a windy day. She sat inhaling the thick, grey smoke from her cigarette, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her thick black eyeliner was smudged, but even that could not disguise the wisdom she hid behind her eyes. Deep in the pockets of her long, black trench coat her phone started to ring. She snatched out the phone, glanced at the screen and groaned. She knew it would be the same call she had received every school day at 6:30, for the past 10 months. “Mom,” she sighed into the phone. “Why do you do this every day?” “Its 6:30, come home Piper,” her mother stated. “Fine,” Piper …show more content…

She grabbed her backpack off the tiled floor and with one last look out at the New York skyline, disappeared down the staircase. The faded, green door marked, ‘no entry’ closed slowly behind her. As she walked through urban New York, Piper passed the building where her friend Phyllis lived. The pale blue door seemed to have light spilling out of it. She remembered back to the days that had been brightened by that apartment. She is scared to visit now, she doesn’t want to dull the light. When Piper arrived home it was close to seven. Meredith, her mother, had spent the last half an hour perched uneasily on a metal barstool, wondering why she still called her daughter every night. Perhaps, she had thought, it was because still hoped that there was a little of the Piper she knew, hidden in the one she didn’t. The Piper that was always on time, the Piper that always went to school. She missed that Piper. The old oak door creaked open and Meredith leapt up to block the hallway. Piper groaned and pushed past her mother to climb the stairs leading to her …show more content…

The smell of fresh cooked oxtail stew (her favourite) filled her nostrils and a whisper of a smile appeared on her lips. But it disappeared like a shadow in the night, as her mother appeared. “Darling,” she started, “we really do need to talk about what happen last year. You must know what happened to that little –“ “MOM!” Piper roared, “I don’t need to talk.” She stalked over the kitchen bench, perched herself on a metal bar stool and snatched the up the Times. She liked the crossword, it calmed her to think so hard about something so simple. “An Old English bard or poet…’ she muttered. She flicked though the paper as she thought and suddenly, the image of a little girl caught her eye. The headline read: ‘Community remembers Sally White, one year on from devastating fire’. As if by magic Pipers eyes glazed over, and she didn’t feel like eating anymore. Out of nowhere, her phone buzzed and her best friend appeared on the screen. She wiped the tears from her eyes, took a deep breath and forced a smile. Like the apartment she lived in light seemed to spill out of Phyllis. “Hey, Lis,” Piper murmured into the phone, sniffing

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