Personal Narrative

“You and me both sweetheart.” Something or someone across the hallway caught her eye and she lifted her hand in a dainty wave. “See you at dinner okay chou-chou? I have to show Deanna the new additions to the gardens.”

We approached the factory, and we were all frightened. We saw soldiers, rallying the workers. The soldiers came to us, and they talked to mom. When mom told them that she was the owner of the factory, they arrested her. The soldiers realized that we were mom’s children, so we were also arrested. I recall how scared I was during the arrest, yet I tried to remain brave. The soldiers did not hesitate; they took us to a train station. Everything happened so fast. One second I was with my family, the other I was on a train headed to an unknown destination. At this point I wasn’t with my family anymore, for they were separated from me at the train station. The train was very claustrophobic, many others were in it. I was merely a child, and everyone else in

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

I been through a lot to be of assistance for this awesome police officer in Chicago, Illinois. I went through being distributed from Cupertino, California to Chicago, to being manufactured in South Korea, being made into many different parts to be an intermediate good, and being different parts as a raw material. I’m starting with who I am ,I am a iPhone 7 Red.{I know, I know, I am fancy} I am with this officer where I go all around Chicago with my owner Officer Jentson and we go fight crime and help other around our community. I came to Officer Jentson through the FedEx mail. I originally came from different parts of the world. Before I got to Officer Jentson I was in Cupertino, California going through the distribution process, that process

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

I caused Greg to break his hand without any remorse at the time. Greg was a high school acquaintance who tended to bully me. He was significantly taller, stronger and more athletic; therefore physically bullying me wasn’t much effort for him. When I heard he was coming to work at the warehouse, I wasn’t particularly happy about it. The warehouse contained boxes from multiple suppliers. Some were really thick and some were really thin. They all contained books, though some were heavy text books while others were light weight paper backs. All workers with experience knew which boxes were heavy, which had thick soft cardboard as a box, and which were encased in thin cardboard. I waited until Greg stopped by with his working partner for

6.2.2 Accountable government Accountable government pertains that officers therein undertake their obligation and being aware of their frontiers of authority. A responsible authority should respond to people's demand, activate their available measures to concern people. The accountability can consist in a bureaucratic institution, which contains a check-and-balance function among the power-holders as a whole. There has seemly less motivation of governmental accountability for human rights. Since Taiwan is not a member of the United Nations, the improvement of international human rights respectively depends on the demand of NGOs.

There I was, walking through the tall wooden door that laid open in front of me. I am about to work what seemed like, the longest seven hours of my life. The bright ceiling lights were shining in my exhausted eyes from a long day of school. As I prepare to punch in my seven-digit number into the register, I could smell the overwhelming scent of pumpkin in the air. Just as I thought, Dairy Queen has now started the bright fall orange seasonal blizzard, The Pumpkin Pie Blizzard. I can just taste the cinnamon in my mouth that is watering over the smell of the pumpkin spice.

My entire life I have always been the smallest person in the room. In elementary school, I was a four-foot-nothing, fifty-pound, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pretty little wisp of a thing. My best friend, Michelle, was, in contrast, was a year older and nearly two heads taller than me, and outweighed me by at least once my own body weight. She also loved to wrestle and would take any opportunity to smash me in a wrestling match. These matches were friendly (if only in the sense that after they were over we would both stand up and go back to adoring each other) but nonetheless highly competitive. Looking back on it, she probably should have been able to kill me, but, try as she might, she never could - she didn’t even win more than half the time.

It felt like Christmas morning. In June. Ripping open the package, I couldn’t remember ever being more excited. I finally had it. The Apex 37. The newest, nicest, cleanest looking longboard to be released, and I was lucky enough to have it. I tore open that box as fast as I could, ripped the plastic off, and there it was. The most beautiful slab of wood I had ever seen. A clean strip of carbon fibre traced the center length of the board from tail to tail with the detailed “Original” logo placed perfectly in the middle. The crisp metallic trucks glistened on either side, and connected to them, the bright purple wheels, freshly ground for the perfect, buttery finish. My heart filled, and my passion fueled. I will never forget the feeling of standing

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

“LINE UP!” a cold voice yelled as everyone walked out of their houses and formed one line, they walked like zombies, dragging their feet through the grass and stood evenly spaced apart, they had done this every morning since they were born. A 15 year old boy Vinnie wasn’t the type to mess with, but he knew consequences would follow for those who disobey, his 8 year old sister Chastity wasn’t as defiant as she appeared, her looks mistook her for one who causes trouble, their green eyes flashed as if they were constantly hiding something, deep, deep down. “Ok, this is it, I can’t take it anymore. We have to go.” Vinnie whispered to Chastity as a crew mate was being sent to the shock room, followed by a horrific scream, she replied,

“Academy for the Adolescence, founded in 1774.” I read out loud to my parents. My family and I are standing in rounded cement pathway around a statue with what I assume is the headmistress. I gaze up at the statue, I look at all of her face facial and take in the sense of what it would be like to actually be her presence. After awhile of me standing there in awe, daydreaming, my parent 's guide me into the big brick house. There is a deck, wood, very old, it creaks when I walk on it. There are two giant door, side by side, that are propped open by two women who are greeting each family by name. It’s our family turn to walk through the door. “Welcome back Mrs. Emerson!”, the two ladies say in sync with one another. We walk onto newly