Personal Narrative: A Short Story

Once I was sure I was deep enough, I stopped. Leaning against a tree , trying to catch my breath. Then I started to cry. Sliding down against the tree with my back until I was on the floor.

My name was announced over the loud speaker “Gary Winthrop now up to bat.” I stepped into the box and took a practice swing. I starred the pitcher right in the eyes tempting him to throw me the ball. He wound up and threw me a slow curve ball that felt like it was hanging in the air forever. I took one step and took a smooth swing. The ball popped off my bat like a rocket and flew over the fence to score the winning run. All 50,000 fans in the stands went crazy. I heard my alarm clock go off, dang it was just a dream. I really didn't feel like going to school.

   I felt something entirely new the light headed feeling I got had a weight pressing on my chest making it hard to breathe and time slowing down, almost to a stop in a moment that seemed to never end. I

I whimpered as any hope that I had left was shattered into a thousand pieces. Tears found their way out of my eyes again; I couldn't stand it anymore. I did the only thing I could think of; I tried to get up, actually succeeding this time, but I only made it a short way off of my bed before I collapsed, landing on the ground with a thud.

I had made it into my school’s prestigious show choir, was neck-deep in AP study guides, and had countless, amazing friends. The news of us moving for my Dad’s new job rocked my world. I felt overwhelmed with emotion; filled with a combination of bitterness and fear. The next two months were a whirlwind: we sold my childhood home, I said goodbye to the people that I loved, and began a journey to a place that I had never been before.

When we arrived, I felt myself shaking, pacing, and staring at the floor as a last attempt to do whatever I could to keep it together. We walked through the front door into a house filled with people. Right past the entrance was a table covered in bouquets. That was it! All I could take, and it hit again, the tears, shaking,

Malia gasped for breath as Dominic wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her hands coming up to grip hold of his hands as if afraid they would leave her at any moment. And loosing him now meant loosing her ability to breath. He was like air, forcablly filling her lungs and pushing life back into her shaking body. It was his fault she was feeling this, but he was the reason she felt strong enough to face it all.

Tears blurred my vision as I listened to the dial tone. I thought my friend was dead. I had experienced immense grief after my dad and grandfather passed away, but nothing could prepare me for the tremendous heartache, anger, and regret I experienced on that warm Monday afternoon.

We were given the date of the surgery and, the way out to make my day even better, I heard the surgeon say to my mom, that I would have to stay over night at the hospital after the surgery. Awesome.

Healthy food had always been a part of my life that I was interested in but it was not until I walked into Happy and Hale that I realized the impact it would make. It was a normal weekend getting food on Ninth Street with my friends when I was standing on the sidewalk and looked across the street. I saw something I had never seen before which sparked my interest since I thought I knew Ninth Street like the back of my own hand. Looking up at a substantial sign that read “Happy + Hale” I felt the need to know more. My friends and I started walking towards the building which had wide open accordion doors that welcomed us in. We were welcomed by many friendly faces, one of them being the co-owner, Matt. “Hey, y’all! How are

The dry rural landscape is playing with my vision. I am seeing double of everything. Double the amount of frizzled up shrubs. Two for every one pebble on the ground beneath my feet. The blinding white sand is stretching into the horizon, reflecting the sun’s heat onto my already sweat-dripping skin.

I am greeted by a crisp, cold, wintery, January wind. The gust of wind propels my hair back, while simultaneously sending chills down my spine. I walk out to a darkening sky. It is now around six o’clock in the afternoon. I continue walking to my car. I reach for the car door, and as I grasp the handle it feels as though I am holding an icicle. I open the door with a swift movement, eager to get in the warm car. I shut the door, and wiggle in my seat as I try to get comfortable. I sit back pleased with myself for warming up the car five minutes prior to my departure. I inspect and adjust my side and rear view mirrors making sure they are to my liking. I place my left hand on the steering wheel, and my right hand on the gear shifter. I slide

"When he opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, 'Come' And out came another horse, bright red. Its rider was permitted to take peace from the earth, so that people should slay one another, and he was given a great sword" (Revelation 6:3-4) That was the quote my brother always said, he attributed it to our father. I never understood why until I turned ten, that was when the verse was burned in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

"Tanner, i'm honestly not in the mood today to do this, so can you please just get my stuff and get out of my seat?"

Once arrived, I went directly to my grandmother 's room. She was laying there, in her bed, incapacitated and listless. Her eyes were closed, her face sallow and transformed by the malady. I jumped at her and kissed her pale cheeks thinking she would kiss me back and hold me tight. But this time she didn 't. She just smiled at me and kissed me slightly. ' 'How are you doing sweety? ' ' she said through labored breaths. I responded: ' ' Fine, and you Muima? ' ' She didn 't respond. A few seconds later, my aunt took my hand and walked me to the living room, saying: ' 'Don 't be sad sweety, Muima is not feeling well today. ' '