Personal Narrative: A Night Of Drinking

I gave a small glare to the man standing in the corner of the room he just looks at me like I killed his pet goldfish. I still didn't understand what was going on. The two men look at each other and then they just leave the room, but inside that room, i could hear the men yelling at each other. Then it goes dead silent. The first man walks in “Come with me now!” He says,I stand up and follow him out of the room. When we get out I see the other man lying on the floor weak and lifeless. They put me in the room right in front of the man and made me watch every time he was hit when he tried to get up. I felt so bad for this guy, all he did was try to help someone that does not sound that bad. Does it? After 3-4 hours of this torture for this good man they finally stop, 4-5 gards pick him up and throw him in my room. Then the guard that was beating him walks up and says,”If you like them so much them you can be one of them.”. Then night fell i slept in the back he was still lying helpless on the floor. I wake up to the sound of the door slamming again. I jump up the guard is not there any more i was so scared about what happened to

I covered my mouth to keep it shut and not say anything. He was wearing black boots and black pants. I could see him running towards the open window in a hurry. Maybe he thought i jumped out or something. He began to run towards the stairs. “He’s leaving” i whispered… But there was no answer, I realized that the call was cut. The man was stepping down the stairs… when all of a sudden there was a loud ringtone coming from my hand. There was then a panic in my heart. The man rushed back into my room and entered, There was a moment of silence when all i could see was the man’s black boots staring straight at my eyes. When suddenly there was a powerful pull dragging me out of the bed. Closing my eyes all i could feel is was extrucenary pain all over my body, every second. I reached out for anything near by so I could at least fight. I felt something from the tip of my fingers. I got a grip of something and swung as hard as I could, I hit him hard. The man fell back. I opened my eyes and there he was, Lying on the ground. Weak and hurt i got up and slowly started walking out of my room and down the stairs. My whole body hurt it was hard to move. I heard the man start to get up, I was terrified. I decided to walk to the basement door to try and hide. I remembered the small door that was in the basement. And went gently to open the door. Weak and in pain I was able to get down the old sketchy stairs and move some boxes to open the door. I opened the door. On the other side was a little room. It was dark and had a little bit of light coming from the outside. Maybe the moon light from the outside. I sat on the small corner of the room.I wrapped my arms around my body to try and stay warm. It was quiet for a second. Until I heard the basement door slam open. The man's foot steps were loud and you could tell he wasn't very happy. I could easily read exactly where he was. He was looking for me,

Put the gun down! Put the gun down! Pow Pow Pow. The gun shots cracked into the air as loud as thunder. One after another. We live day by day not knowing our end. In the blink of an eye our lives can be changed forever. Its life, yet even in knowing this we never expect tragedy to find us. We never expect it to affect our lives and the people we know and love. I’m going to share with you the day tragedy found my life.

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

I like to beat the rush for lines and do not prefer being late, but

I batted my eyelashes lined with sleep. For a moment, I was disoriented to where I was. I felt around the soft bed, waving around my arms frantically. The area next to we was cold; Ross was gone. I pushed my senses to get up, tempting myself with visions

I opened my eyes and looked up to see the bars above me and the suffocating smell of chalk filled my lungs as all eyes peered down at me. I was 8 and being in a situation as extreme as this without your parents is pretty difficult. I was at gymnastics camp in Pennsylvania 4 hours away from my parents. I had no phone and no way of contacting them except through letters. This was my second year at the camp and I loved it. I was on bars trying a squat on jump to high bar which I had previously done by myself. I fell in a funny way and landed on my arm so perfectly that it broke. A complete piece of my elbow broke off. I was rushed to the hospital.

I jolt awake. “Must have been a bad dream” I thought to myself. I looked around and was shocked at my surroundings. A destroyed hospital room. The paint on the walls is peeling and it smells like old sheets and medicine. The beds are covered in rust and pieces of the ceiling have fallen on the floor. The room is dark, but the sun is shining through the barricaded windows. I rip the needles out of my arms and struggle to stand up. I put on my clothes that were still neatly folded under the bed. I walk out of the room. There were blood stains on the wall and random hospital supplies thrown on the floor. My heart starts to race. I try to think of what could have happened. While I was thinking I was snapped out of my thoughts by a banging behind me. I turn around to see a door, bolted shut. I decide not to open it. I begin to walk

I am going to sleep in my own bed in my home; as I sleep, a familiar scent slowly starts to fill the air. I wake up in a cold sweat; I know he is there, in my house. I don’t open my eyes because I don’t want to know how close he is, but I can tell he is still in the hallway; the scent is not strong enough yet. I listen with all my might, hoping I can hear the carpet moving under his feet or maybe I will hear his breath first. The carpet gives it away, he is entering my room; I can feel him standing over me for what feels like a lifetime. I’m so careful not to change the pattern of my breathing for fear he will know I’m awake. He turns and walks out. Now I’m listening even harder, and my heart sinks when I hear it. My mother’s gasping breaths, I know he has her by the throat. What do I do? I’m only fourteen, by no means large enough or strong enough to stand up to him, so I stay and pray he won’t hit her again. Then the shouting starts. He accuses her of running around on him, with her boss, the neighbor, and every other male she has come in contact with. He screams at her to take off her clothes, he wants to see her

We had this playset that had a bar on the left side to do flips on. On the other side there was a climbing rope, and in the front there were two swings. My brother and I came up with a game to see who could get over the bar fastest by doing a flip. So the first few times I did it I was fine, I grabbed the bar put my stomach on it and spun down. My brother and I took turns and on my 3rd turn I must not have done it correctly, but either way I hit my head on it right below my eyebrow. I fell on the ground and held my hand to my eye, by then I started crying because of shock. Surprisingly it didn’t hurt that bad, but it was just throbbing. My brother came over and told me to move my hand so he could look at it when I did he looked worried, he told me that we had to go in the house right away. I had blood all over the palm of my hand and on the right side of my face. He helped me up and walked there with me to the house.

It was my first time going geese hunting with a shotgun. I was really nervous to going because my uncle and my grandpa are really good at it. They go every weekend and more than half of the time they get their lemont. Also I was very excited to go just growing up going and always watching them going hunting with guns and i always watched. I was getting tired of it. I thought it was time for me to have a gun and on more messing around as much

I would like to start this paper out by saying many things will be left out in order to get this paper graded in a timely manner. Everything in this paper is told to the best of my ability to remember it however, I can not remember everything due to mind and mood altering substances and simple getting older and time passing.

After Finals, I came back to San Pedro for the summer. You wouldn't think the place would have changed that much in a year, but it sure as hell felt like I was living in another country. Most of the guys I went to high school had moved on by then and the whole town seemed so fucking strange.

Highschool was always a rough time for me, I had no idea where I was going and what I was going to do with my life. One of my teachers had a talk with me and suggested I join the military. I followed his advice and chose the branch that best fit my goals; The U.S Air Force. To me joining seemed like the easiest and best way to go. I always dreamt of flying planes so working on them seemed like the second-best option for me.

Before I knew it, it was late at night and almost my bedtime. I made my way, up the stairs to the loft, slowly dragging my feet up each huge log stair from being so tired. I finally made my way up to the loft although the only light source was coming from one-single lit candle downstairs on the kitchen table. As I pulled the covers off the tiny twin bed, it was extremely hot, so I decided