Personal Narrative: A Devil Object

I, Deputy Gough received a call reference a white Ford truck driving in the Gamester trailer court all over the roadway. Upon my arrival I spoke with David Vore and Jennifer Vore. Jennifer Stated that Randy was the driver of the white Ford truck that said, “All Good Construction.” David and Jennifer both stated that they saw the truck drive through the yard hitting a slow child at play sign and the stop sign.

The stone was cold and I could feel the pain swelling up inside. I took a step towards the edge, I thought to myself, “One more step and the worries would end…” if only it was that easy.

You know that moment when you’re trying to reach the toilet paper but can't quite, then fall and kill yourself on a pumpkin? Yeah I know that feeling… it’s not good. It all started one very normalish day at 1065 Fitzgerald Ave.

Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?

I want to place my hand on my heart, with a believe that it will start believing people again.trusting those who caused a mistrust between my heart and soul.

The demon was just your typical run of the mill demon, but he was fast..unusually fast, and that’s what had taken you by surprise. You stealthily crept through the window of the abandoned farmhouse, careful not to make any noise whatsoever. You entered through a room that looked as if it had once belonged to a little girl. You paused for a moment taking in the scene around you, there was a small pink table with plastic china sitting atop it. At first glance you didn’t think much of it, until something told you to look again. Upon your second look, you noticed the tiny bloody handprints that wrapped around the plastic. You took a sharp inhale of breath and decided it was time to move on. You quickly and quietly walked over to the door frame and peeked around the corner, hoping no demons would jump out in front of you. Satisfied with hearing and seeing nothing you took a step out into the hall and continued until you found stairs leading upwards. You hesitated for a moment, considering whether or not you were actually going to go up the steps or not when you heard a

Some people are born with talents, others with brains, and some with beauty. However, I would like to think I was born with all the above, but most of all I was born with the innate gift of serving others. While growing up as a preacher’s kid, I witnessed my father help others by empowering them, motivating them, and praying for them. Observing how supportive my dad was of others I thought I want to do the same thing, but I knew I did not want to be a preacher. Growing up as a beautician’s daughter, I watched my mother improve others by building their self-esteem, being a listening ear, and sharing knowledge when necessary. I recall looking at my mother thinking I want to be that type of person when I grow up. I lacked the talents and creativity

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

There are many avocations that I would chose from. But, more specifically, I would aspire to be a unique, “at home style” photographer. Being able to capture simple moments in a strange place like Elsewhere seems so interesting to do. Each day I would grab my camera, go outside, stroll around and observe nature. I would be able to go outside and capture moments of people, the warm sky, or anything that I would want to. The thing is, there are no limits to photography

After seeing the monster I was I had got my answer to my question, that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember.When saw the monster I was, i had a new question that I was determined to find the answers to.Who am I and who had created this monster I see.

I have always said that without my faith I would either go crazy or kill myself. It wouldn’t be long before I found out.

The monsters were put into my head that morning directly from the pulpit of the Methodist Church down the street from our house. The red faced guest preacher shouted, shook his fists, and said were out to get everyone and take us to a place called Hell if we sinned. I had no idea what sinning was or where Hell was but they sounded like things best avoided, especially by a kid like me.

It was 4th grade. I spent the afternoon after every school day in the after-school care program. After moving to a new school in the middle of 3rd grade I had finally found my niche and my friends. Though I certainly would have preferred going straight home, I enjoyed my time in after-school. There were adults to help me with the homework I hurriedly put together and plenty of other kids to play with. As with most childhood venues, there were kids I really liked, those who I was completely oblivious to, the ones I did not really care for but I could ignore, and then there was Christian. Our first contact was on the blacktop, the after-school kids loved to play knockout, horse, or any other basketball game you could think of. Soon it became apparent Christian was a decent ball

After watching endless episodes of “The Middle”, a TV show my brother, mom and I had been watching, I slumped up the stairs feeling tiredness overcome my body and brain as most sleep deprived teenagers do. I stumbled into my room feeling for the light switch in the dark and flipped it. On my almost robotic bedtime routine I slowly and grudgingly brushed my teeth and slipped on my pajamas. I pulled back the sheets and sunk into the soft plush comforter. My cat was sleeping on the end by my feet. “Macky, come here I called”

One day, there I was jubilant as a child could be for a sleepover, to my cousin Christina family home, athwart from my home. Stupid, of us to do so if we see each other every single day even at school. Considering, she was one of my favorite cousins to play dolls with, dress up, and watch Disney movies. Snow White and the seven dwarfs was one of our favorites we decided to watch our favorite movie in her room that night, we ate popcorn, and nab chocolate candy well her mother slept in the other room. Her older brother and her father were in the living room, watching WWF wrestling, the most popular thing at the time.