Personal Narrative

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.

It was one of those oddities; though identical twins, they had celebrated different birthdays: first, Molly, born on April 1, 1972, at 11:47 PM, and second came Megan on April 2 at 12:17 AM. Their parents, Meryl and Bill, thought it best that the twins celebrate on their own days and had always held separate parties for them. Bill adored “his girls,” and Megan was probably his favorite. A parent shouldn’t have a favorite child, yet, they all, more than likely do. It’s either the one that they’ve carried some sort of guilt about, for one reason or another, or the one that highly reminds them of themselves. In Bill’s case, it was definitely Megan, he enjoyed her spunk (a quality he thought missing from the other two children). It was his attraction to her high-spiritedness that had Meryl, on countless occasions telling him; “You are letting her get away with

‘’I was on my way to back to school night I was extremely nervous to meet my teacher and when I got there I heard Andrew then I turned around and…’’ One time when I was in second grade I was on my way to back to school night I went to meet my teacher her name was Ms. Pepler. She was nice at helping me put my stuff in my desk but I thought she would be meaner in the school year so when me and my mom got back in the car I said ‘’I think Ms. pepler is going to be mean this year.’’ My mom said ‘’ she seemed really nice at back to school night’’ then I said maybe you're right.’’ Now it is the first day of school and I was nervous because I thought I had a mean teacher and I didn't have any friends it was just me and my cousin. The first day of

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.

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.

Chelsea woke up with the most peculiar feeling on monday. She felt like she had had the most vivid dream last night—one of those really disturbing ones that you couldn't quite remember but you seemed glad it wasn't real when you woke up. Shrugging off the thought, she quickly got changed into her uniform and headed to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before heading off to high school. It was the last week of term before the holidays, and she was looking forward to spending some time with friends over the break.

Police sirens blare in the distance. They are close; too close for comfort, but Lexi has no choice; she has to walk home. Without a car, what was she to do? Call a cab? Ask a friend? Any option besides walking home was burdensome and she couldn’t be bothered with them, so she walked. She had just finished her shift at the Tap House, where she worked as a waitress. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do now was crawl into bed and go to sleep.

he first thing I did when I was first placed into my mom’s arm was wink. It was the most peculiar thing ever. She and my dad were both confused, thinking about what that wink would symbolize. Little did they know they had a daughter who would continue to stimulate their brains and logic. I was always an outgoing, awkward child. I was also very conscious of expensive things. I, as a “mature” 3 year old, once told my brother, “Anna (that’s Telugu for older brother), be careful! Is epensive( expensive on three year old speak)!” Every where I would go, I would say hello to every person that crossed my path; if a person didn't respond, I would pester them to the point that a response seemed like their only savior.

It’s first grade. The teacher asks us to settle down at our desks and be quiet. She says, “When I call your name, reply here.” It appears that I was the only one who didn’t get the message. The indistinguishable conversations in the room grew silent and I was hearing my own voice. While every other student was sitting patiently for his or her name to be called on, I was the only one standing. As I glance over my peers, I get a sly hint that I should sit down quietly like the others. A few minutes later, a student taps me on the shoulder and whispers, “The teacher called your name, tell her you’re here.” With uncertainty, I squeak out the single word, “Here.”

That morning had begun just like any other, or so I believed. It was a cold winter morning, a school day, and I was 14 years old, getting up to get ready for school. It was while I went about my routine that I realized my parents were nowhere to be found. I was immediately concerned and searched the entire house for them before frantically running to our neighbors and beating on the door, desperate for an answer. When I managed to explain that my parents were gone he told me to come along in his car. Concerned, and fearing what was about to happen, I went with him, feeling even more frantic when I realized we had arrived at the hospital.

Abruptly awoken at the break of dawn towards the end of the hot season, my owner swiftly moves across the house gathering the essentials needed for his rigorous day. My owner’s name is Jordan and he is a six foot tall senior in high school. Jordan rises early many days and decides to sleep later on other days, which is quite confusing at times. Jordan does not always awaken me with all the commotion emitting from him, which is peculiar because Jordan sounds like a herd of elephants every morning. If Jordan’s loud and excessive noises do not rouse me the commotion of the other family members usually does the trick. After the tumultuous family dispatches I am left alone in a house of seldom activities for an animal. My day is spent waiting for Jordan, or any other human, to return home and grant me with their presence.

I am writing this letter because when you would not talk to me on the phone I realized how drastically things have changed between us. I’d like to say that it was your decision alone to keep this distance, but I think we both know it was for the best.

A story shared with friends and relatives is when I shot my nine point buck. My dad and I were sitting behind some brush and were just about to leave. We heard something to the right and looked over and saw antlers. I pulled up my gun and shot. I missed. It ran off to about 100 yards away and stopped and looked back at us. By that time I had the gun reloaded and aimed above him and shot. I hit him. He ran off into the woods.

“You can have it if you want,” my father said, pointing to the Playboy magazine on his desk. His index finger interrupted my line of vision, and my eyes shot up to make contact with his.

Life can always push you trough big changes in any instant of your life. I honestly would have never thought that at this very young and short age my life would have changed the way it did, to be completely honest it was truly a blessing. I had been born and raised going to a catholic church with my parents and sister, every Sunday at eight a.m. My family and i would be at church, it was only an hour long and it always went by really fast actually. I know my parents only wanted the best for me and my sister, to be raised by a good family that believed in God, but to be honest as i grew older it started just becoming a habit to be at church every Sunday, of course my parents hoped for me to actually learn something every time