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.

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

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.

If you were to ask me why I love running the hurdles you would probably expect to hear this long story about this life changing event that happened to me which made me love running, but that’s not the case. In high school I was on the shuttle hurdle team, I wasn’t the best nor the worst, but I was the most motivated. Everyday I went to practice and pushed myself to the point were my coach would make me stop. I wasn’t motivated to be the best nor to win every race. I was motivated by the thought of going to state or even winning state.

My eyes fluttered open and I found myself there again. I always find myself in the same place, stuck in the exact moment of time when it all happened. I struggled to get a hold of myself. Is this a memory or am I still in Afghanistan?

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,

It was a cool friday evening. We had just finished scrimmaging at Fisher Field, and we were all loading onto the bus. We made our way to the school and went home. I remember calling my dad so he can come and pick me up. Once my dad came around I was thinking about what my mom made for dinner, and how much homework I had to do that night. I got home safely, and started walking towards the house until I hear my little sister coming up to the door to greet me. I found it strange, as she never does this. I greeted her back, and made my way to my room to put my bag away. I made my way back downstairs to go and eat, but I saw my mom sitting there and smiling. She told me to come over and guess what she had on her lap. I had an idea to what she

It was a sunny summer day. We just got finished with a movie and just finished getting chairs at menards. We were on our way back to our condo up north about 30 minutes away from the dells, I was only with my mom and brother and he was about 4 and I was 10 years old. It was probably the most scariest thing in my life at that time and it was my first time getting in a car accident.

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.

When I was 11 I owned a dog named Bruno, who always managed to bring a smile to my face. Unfortunately one day when I returned from Mexico, I was devastated to find out he had run away. Ever since I was young I've been self-reliant so it was lovely to have someone there for any circumstance. My parents would usually be at work and when they home they'd usually be in their room resting. In addition, I'm the youngest child, my youngest older brother winning me by 8 years, so I didn't really have siblings to accompany me especially since they all started a family significantly young—this of course only led to them moving on faster meaning I was pretty much on my own. It was nice to have someone so ecstatic to see you that they literally jumped

“Move the light so it’s on my good side,” Mary snapped her gum, and glared at the technician, “You just can’t get good help these days, you know?”

It’s the summer of 1999 and I’m sitting on a beach in Latvia, hunched over my new Nikon f100 fidgeting with my lens. What had been the point of me saving up money for a year for this camera if I wasn’t going to take a single photo that I liked? I was feeling utterly frustrated. Here I was, in one of the most beautiful parts of Europe unable to take a single great photograph. All of a sudden my thoughts were interrupted by a spray of sand in my face. I looked up to see a young girl in a blue denim romper sauntering by haughtily in plastic heels. Well she was trying to saunter. They were the kind of shoes that came in those toy sets with costume jewelry and tiaras. They weren’t meant to be worn out, and definitely not meant to be worn on the

The lights and sirens filled the otherwise quiet neighborhood as I was drug out of my mother’s arms and put into the back of a familiar car. I watched as my home became nothing but a speck in the distance. From that point, I sat dumbfounded focused on what had just happened. How could a choice end this badly? Nothing made sense to me, then. It was in my grandmother’s home where my mother and I resided. My mother stayed with my grandmother since she was merely 21 years old and was beginning to enter into adulthood. However, an opportunity arose which meant me making a decision. I could move with my mother into her new home she bought in White Oak, West Virginia (in Raleigh County) or stay at my grandmother’s. Being the adventurous five years