Personal Narrative

“No need to stare, young one. You’ve never paid this close of attention to my born form.” I glanced up to see his chapped lips pulled up in a devilish smile. Raspy laughter could barely be heard, the only way to truly tell the subtle noise was coming from the man before me was the slight shake of his shoulders. I clasped my hands beneath the table, trying to find some way to begin the conversation we were to have.

Could you be friends with a ghost? You journey through this question with Mary Downing Hahn’s book, “The Old Willis Place.” In The Old Willis Place, two children, Diana and Georgie live together on a farm with a abandoned house. The farm has caretakers that don’t take care of the farm at all. Though Diana and Georgie are bound by “the rules” Diana talks to the caretaker’s daughter, Lissa. The two become best friends. But one day, when the two venture into the old house, Lissa lets out Ms. Lillian’s ghost, who despises, and had killed Diana and Georgie decades ago. Late one night, Ms. Lillian finds Diana and Georgie. The two find out the truth about what really happened the night they died. In the end, all three ghosts go with Diana and

When I was 7 years old I attended a funeral for my great grandfather. He was 105, and had lived a full life. I wasn’t very close to him but seeing him in the casket was so odd and he looked like an alien. I was a curious child so I stood in front of the casket just observing the body and glancing around at the sadness that this room was filled with. My uncle joined me and asked me if I had said spoken to my great grandfather. I just looked up at him and said “No, he is dead”, since I was pretty certain dead people didn’t talk anymore. Well, he proceeded to tell me that if I asked him a question, my great grandfather would indeed respond. I didn’t ask since I was already scared at this point. My uncle did for me, he asked, “Grandpa, if you

He runs up to me! “It’s okay, we are safe,” Father attempts to comfort me.

My next door neighbours, The Johnsons, were all asleep in their coffins when I climbed the fence to get the ball. My family always had weird suspicions about The Johnsons… well.. all of our neighbors for that matter. We grew up living in a not-so-great section of Philadelphia, and things were always out of the ordinary. We knew all of our surrounding neighbors pretty well except for The Johnsons. They had a dog that would guard their fence 24 hours a day so we never had a chance to go over to their house to say hello. However, one day while we were walking by we noticed the dog was not waiting outside to attack.

The truth is, I don’t have anything to say to him, but when I look into his eyes they are so beautiful I can’t look away. Something he could never

I mended my body into the fabric of the hammock, curling my face into its warmth and accepting its embrace. Alex began swinging the one next to me before settling in. My legs rose up in the air, swaying around while I examined the old scars on them.

He started walking away "That's not his name its..." He's gone up the stairs to late to say anything.

“What?” I snap in a whisper. We stand at the bottom of the stairs, away from Felix and Thorn.

I had a best friend named Bethany once, but she was strange in a way that no one would ever think: she was part of a murderous family. It all started in the seventh grade, when she came up to me to ask if we could work on a project together and while doing the project we got to know each other better. I told her about my family and what I wanted to be when I was older. She told me that her family was different than any normal family(how ironic) and that they had just moved to town. I realized that she might not have had any friends, so I invited her over to my house to watch a movie. While I was getting the popcorn ready, I heard the door shut close, so I ran to find that Bethany was not in the living room anymore. I thought that maybe she got nervous and left and didn't think of it that much.

“Upstairs, but I doubt you’ll be able to help him,” he says walking into the tower leading the way.

Haunted by the voicemail messages he left for my daughter Dolly two nights before he died. He said he’d been having a hard time and thought hearing her voice might cheer him up. In reality, he had already made his plan and was calling to say good-bye.

This I believe that there is a God, and he is watching over us, and helping us everyday with the problems of everyday life, whether it be an illness, break-up, school pressure, and even helping people make the right choices in life, because some people face greater consequences for things they done in the moment and didn't think of the consequences or what would happen if they did something they knew that was wrong but, didn’t think about the possible consequences of their choices.

It's been months of not hearing word of my boyfriend, I don't know if he's alright or not. Last time I’ve heard about him was when the army mailed us the incident on one of his missions and they can’t find his team. That was four months ago when we heard from his family and the army commander. People started giving up if he’s alive or not…. but I know that he is alive, and he will come home.

“It’s okay.” He says slowly, unsure of how to proceed when the gray haired male lets out a sigh of relief and scurries past him into the