Personal Narrative

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

Sitting in the front seat of my bass boat casting a spinnerbait, the weather was perfect. It was about 55 degrees and sunny. After reeling in about a three-pound bass, I thought I would be ecstatic, but I wasn’t. Something just didn’t feel right, kind of like when you’re about to do something very scary and your stomach turns in nervousness. I drove back to the cabin/house and went upstairs. I knew that whatever was about to happen would permanently change my life forever.

Every student is excited when school starts. New classes, new backpacks, new clothes, and seeing all your friends is a part of this excitement. The first few weeks are new; no homework, plenty of free time, etc. But after two or three months, school isn’t cool anymore. The homework piles up, the tests are being printed, but how much stress can you take before it’s too much?

It was 2:00 AM and I was working 3rd shift that night, it was lonely and dark. I was the only one here. As I sat in silence the phone rang I picked it up not expecting anyone to be calling because I haven’t had a call in years. When I picked up the phone all I hear is a deep soft whispering, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every second the whispering got louder and louder until there was a high pitch screaming. I slammed the phone down on the receiver with a rush of adrenaline. My heart was pounding so fast it felt like it was going to burst, (the reader takes a deep breath to build suspense) agin I sit in silence, waiting for something to happen. I was so paranoid I didn’t know what to do, my mind was racing, do I leave or do I

One Saturday morning I woke up to go hinting as usual every weekend. I climbed out of my bed with a good night’s sleep and got dressed. I made my way to the living room to drink some coffee with my daddy. It was in December so it was pretty cold outside. I sat around for a few minutes talking to daddy and watching the news on TV. We were arguing on who was going to hunt the “creek stand” as we call it. It’s a old box stand down a really long over grown trail that has been in the family for a long time. It is located in the wood yard hunting club in Angie, LA, my hometown. We finally got finished arguing and he said I could hunt the “creek stand”. So I went to my room and grabbed my Remington model 770 .270 caliber rifle with a 80mm Nikon scope,

The helplessness I felt as I sat clenching my head in the murky, brisk night. The words “ I will always love you no matter what”, repeatedly played in my head like my favorite melody. The feeling of your hands riveting my face as you gave me one last kiss overwhelmed me with heartache. The pessimistic stare you gave me as you proceeded to say, in a sorrow manner, “Goodbye Jo”, haunted me forever. The moment I never thought would come about came into prospective right then, you were no longer mine.

I grab the handle on the door frame, and pull my five foot self up into the driver's seat. Leaving the door open, I turn the key in the ignition. Doesn't start. "Try again." Daryl hooks his hand around the top of the door. I nod and twist the key forward again. This time it clicks for a few seconds, then starts right up. The purring of the engine enlightened the mood a bit. Tara jogs over to Rick. "The van works." "We have our transportation." Rick nods before signaling the rest over. "Want to get out of the city before dark, we'll find a spot in the woods to settle for the night and go from there." I made sure I was in the same car as Daryl, even if it meant not being in the same as Carl, but I need to comfort one of the biggest father figures

It was a cold autumn morning when I heard the news coming from my alarm clock radio. Two people had won the lottery winnings from yesterday's drawing. They get to split a great prize, both people got to take home over 3 million dollars. I have been playing the lottery for about ten years now, I have only won three or four thousand, hoping to hit it big. For eight years I have been cleaning and cooking in a half kitchen with dinette. The small apartment had that smell as if something had been wet and moldy. I have had to listen through paper thin walls of, shouting, fighting, and the occasional grunts from some dirty old man upstairs. The constant running trains echo inside the entire apartment building. The living room was just big enough for

I always wanted an all-terrain mountain bike. That finally happened when me and my family went shopping at Walmart for a new bicycle because recently I learned how to ride a bike with two wheels. Due to my practice behind the handles my parents thought since that it was summer and I needed the physical exercise, that I should get a bike. Also that I couldn’t ride my original small dirt bicycle. It was a jolly experience on a large bike for the first time.

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what

I decide to call out sick and go to a thrift store in Madison in hope of finding a couple pair of pants for work and to get my mind off my mom’s situation. I don’t have much luck on either count. After ten minutes, I leave the thrift store unable to stop thinking about my mom. I make my way back to my car in the parking lot groping for the car keys in my jeans pocket.

It was the last day of school and I was so excited for summer. I was going to do all kinds of stuff and go out of the state. In reality I was going for one of my worst summer ever. All I was going to do is travel most of the time. It was going to be the most boring summer ever.

I woke up as usual a couple of years ago on September 20, I rubbed my tired eyes with my hands curled into fists. Uncovering my head from the large blanket I had, I was blinded by the brilliant light that hung above my head. A few moments later, after my eyes had adjusted, and my temporary blindness left me, I stumbled out of my bed and tripped to my closet, still dazed from just having woken up. Once I was ready I dazedly walked down the stairs, hanging onto the wooden rail tightly so I wouldn’t fall, though I almost fell more than a few times. My grandmother was sitting in her grey rocking chair, watching The walking dead, she heard me trip off the last step coming down the stairs and turned her head slightly to face me. She started to say

When Life would sit down to put together the perfect love story, it would leave the Love part out. The house with the picket fence was still there, the cars, the money but the Love was gone. Although wholesome soul and contemporary R&B was made throughout this period, it was overshadowed by the lifestyle people wanted to hear more about.

It was the way his hair smelled. Clean. Cool. Coconuts. Long curls, straight strands. I wanted to bury my fingers in it, weave it into my soul and bind him to me forever. It was the way his skin felt smooth and warm and lush. I wanted to live in him. I wanted to lose myself in him. His past, his present and his future were my drugs. I was a hopeless