Personal Narrative: A Memorandum

I rush into my home and run up the stairs to my room. I jump on my bed and roll over to my laptop and open it quickly. I log onto the One Direction site and see that I made it in time to see the bid. I scroll and try and find my name and I see I'm in third place for the tickets and the time is running out. I've already bid $7000 for three tickets and backstage passes. The reason it's so expensive is because these passes are the last set of passes for their concert. 5sos is also playing so we would be meeting two bands and hearing both of them play.

In 2025, I will be twenty-nine years old and hopefully married. I will be married to my significant other of ten years Earnest Palmer III, who is a dentist. I would have been recently graduating with a bachelor’s in Culinary Arts and trying to plan to open my own restaurant, BubbaD’s Eateries. Knowing my big headed husband of mine, I probably had a baby then and trying to have another baby. Hopefully, by then Earnest will get rid of the idea naming our son, King. We will be living in the suburbs near New York City but working in the city. Being a woman with great memory, I probably wrote a memoir about my crazy life and trying to sell it to a publisher. If none of the publishers wants to publish my memoir, I will probably sell it the Lifetime

“Casey, your group needs to do the stunt one more time!” coach said imprudently. It happened March 26, 2015; it was at the end of a two hour practice. During the summer months in South Georgia, it is utterly hot and humid, especially in our cheer gym (a warehouse with no air conditioner); it only has two heavy-duty fans and a roll-up door. With this in mind, my group became slightly irritated. Everyone was exhausted; nevertheless we still had to do the stunt anyway.

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears

I’m fairly new to the adult romance genre, and after reading a few that I adored I got a blogger friend of mine to give me some recommendations. On her list of recommendations for romances that are more rom-com was Melissa Foster’s The Real Thing. This was my first Melissa Foster book and I absolutely loved it! I’m so glad I decided to pick up this one as one of my first picks. he Real Thing takes place in a small town called Sugar Lake and features Zane and Willow who have a somewhat complicated history. I loved that they technically started out as friends and kept in touch all those years before getting together as it just made their chemistry and relationship all the more steamier and swoonier. And while the fake relationship trope was used

A speak is moving on the paper. Tracing every letter with a little spark that flickers. I stick my fingers out to touch it and the instant contact burns me and I drop the paper with a gasp. Light comes up from the ground the second the paper hits the floor, shining so bright it could very possibly light a whole city. I cover my eyes at the brightness of it. The light gets bigger and closer and within less than three seconds, the light surrounds us. I want to scream bloody murder out of pure confusion and fear. Then, I feel as if I'm being sucked forward until my whole body, without my permission, is slowly being lifted off my window seat. I try to grab for Amanda, but everything is gone the second I blink.

I was wandering in the mall recently , aimlessly as some of us do, basically waisting time. In my travels I came across a kiosk that sold various cellphones, chargers, and other accessories. The young man behind the counter asked if I needed any help, I answered as most of us do with a "no, I'm just looking."

The brain is 3.3 pounds, has 86 billion nerve cells, and makes up 2% of 100% of people. Though this organ belongs to all people, it is still unique to everyone. The decision made, emotions felt, and life that was lived can be held in the palms of a person's hand.

"Maybe she isn't like us, maybe she is j-Ow Jules don't hit me there!" a unfamiliar male voice groaned in pain

Baby, “ You better work hard or they will leave you any kind of way”

Growing up at nine years old, struggling to comprehend the concepts of elementary school literature was one of the hardest things I ever had to endure, but prior to this self-aware discovery. I seemed to always be the worst kid in class academically and behaviorally. I would constantly act out trying to divert the attention away from my appalling academic performance to something completely different. I’d begin to shout things like, “THIS CLASS SUCKS! WHY ARE WE HERE! CAN YOU EVEN DO YOUR JOB?” I even threw in simple, corny jokes that everyone would understand, that would get everyone laughing, so we could spend less time on the subject at hand. Over the course of a few years, I quickly concluded that English and I would

On 11/22/2017 at 0005 hours, I was dispatched to 13 Bruce Drive for a report of a dispute. County Dispatch, while trying to obtain the pertanent information, advised he heard lots of yelling before the caller disconnected. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I was met by India Maldonado just outside the front door.

Lying in bed after a sleepless night, I had to find my inner strength and courage to overcome the sadness that would surely plague this day. What once belonged to him, and still holding the distinct scent of his cologne, I took the freshly pressed suit from the closet and drove to the church in a fog. It was a day that I had wished would never come. Holding the paper tight in my hand, I could feel my palms getting sweaty and my pulse starting to race. A still silence flowed through the room as I stepped up to the podium and took a minute to glance at all the somber people whose lives he touched. It was time to say goodbye to grandpa. Holding back tears and with my voice cracking, I started to read aloud the eulogy I had written last night:

I was laid on my bed after I bade Ri a goodnight. I was pondering about anything and everything. Thousands of thoughts were racing inside my head. But the most important question among them was, whether I should sleep or not. After the events of that night, a peaceful sleep seemed like a distant memory. Getting sleep terrors every night was being stressful, both physically and mentally. It drained and strained me from inside every time. All the events of that night were still alive and fresh in my memory. Consequently, when I slept at night, these memories rewind and replay. I could still feel the igniting fire kissing my skin and scarring it. The smell of the burning blood was still fresh in my mind, as though I could still smell it

Angie again told Bev she could have as much fun as she wanted because word of anything she did at the resort wouldn’t get back to Dave from us. She then told Bev if she was going to have fun with the guys she was also going to join in the fun and it should be real entertaining.