Personal Narrative : A Short Story : Chris Pewtersmiths.

I wasn’t but 6 years old when i found out that life wasn’t all that it cut out to be. Yeah I had always known that nobody was perfect but never that I would feel so empty. When I was 6 years old my mother and her girlfriend filed for custody for me so they could take me away from my home. They wanted to move to Connecticut that was 6 states away from Virginia, my home, my family,my friends, and all I have known. My father put up a fight and wouldn’t let me go he didn’t want me to go and I could never thank him enough for it. When the court date was set everybody was all stressed out and I had a lawyer that came and talked to me about once every two weeks about what I wanted and how the court would work. We saw each other for about two months right up till the court date came around then my mother wouldn’t let me see her anymore because she could tell I was getting upset.

Guess what my sister did this weekend? Last weekend was her last meet before counties. She did very well. I had so much fun watching her. There were sad moments though when the relay was lost by a split of a second, b. But I still thought it was fun since it was her last meet before winter.

As I walked into Hall D of the Kentucky International Convention Center, I noticed half of my team sitting on the green and blue carpet with yellow streaks. I joyfully skipped over to Lexi, my strong back spot, sat down, and started to tie the long, rough-looking white laces of my off-white Tumblina cheer shoes. All around me, I heard murmurs; cheer counts from one to eight, laughing moms and daughters, gossip behind me, and coaches trying to perfect their teams routine before hitting the big mat. I could smell the strong scent of hairspray, hot food right from the restaurant nearby, and the disgusting smell of spray glitter all around me.

It was a sunny day, but I was shivering from fear. While the rest of my family was getting into their scuba gear, I was composing a silent prayer to God.

What a wonderful week, and way to end a transfer and begin a new one. I first wanted to say how grateful I am for this wonderful opportunity to be a missionary. It's been almost a year since I left beauty of California behind. Yet, there is something beautiful about the desert here in Arizona that I have truly come to appreciate.

I was on the verge of death, but death couldn’t catch me. It wasn’t a typical Friday. It was finals week, and that meant as soon as I got out of that last exam of my sophomore year I was off to meet my friends for lunch, followed by a party to celebrate completing another year and officially becoming junior. My friend, Michelle, along with her friend Josie, my sister, Armina and I were in my sisters car with the music all the way up and completely pumped to start our summer. We had just returned from Panera Bread and were on our way to the party. Thanks to having a senior sister, we went to a party where we ended up hanging out with an older crowd. As we drove up you could tell it was going to be wild. Cars and cars packed next to each other, there had to have been over 100 people there. I was

He bought a home security system and finally a gun. It was a silver .357 with a black grip.

Lub-dub, lub-dub. My heart raced, I stood on the edge of the stairs. I waited, listened, and then stepped down slowly. My grip tenacious on the basket, my eyes flickering, I searched for movements. Now, I had to run into the room, put my five quarters in, put our clothes in, shut the cover, and race back up to our apartment. I had to be careful. I didn’t want to interrupt a gang meeting in the dark and cold basement of our apartment’s laundry room. This was Saturday morning.

Some fifteen years ago, Jhin Wayne, his wife, and son were walking home from a movie and chatting about how would the ending be if the protagonist pressed the wrong button.

I loved to visit my nana’s house. As soon as I walked in, I could smell the rich, cinnamon-y flavor of the rice pudding bubbling on the stove. Most of my friend’s grandmothers baked cookies, but I thought rice pudding was way better. I ran to the kitchen, my bare feet going slap slap slap on the shiny wood floor. I ran up behind Nana and gave her a big squeeze.

"No use Rose, she can't hear you. She's gone...." I know it sounds like I was over her death, but I'm not. It hurt to say that. It hurt to say the truth. So, I just don't. That's why I talk to 'her'. To distract myself from the truth.

In 2016, David is a senior in high school. He was a Chinese American student at Burlington High School in the state of Vermont. The seniors entered the cafeteria. Their talking and thrilled laughter filled the building as they sat at their tables for lunch. Every item was so soggy, so bland, it was depression served cold. David and his friends sat down on the ramshackle, creaky table.

After a long day's work, you just want to go home and rest. Take off your shoes, kick back in your recliner, make some popcorn, and watch some TV. It was late at night, and John was just getting home from work. He thought it would just be a normal night where he watched his favorite shows, and eat so much until he knocked out of the couch, but that wasn’t the case.

“Baby, please don’t go without me,” Delia said, as I got ready for my day out on the streets of Cebu City, which was my first solo outing.

It is a white ridge across the span of my knee. The ridges feel rough against my fingertips as I run my hand across it. Little bumps are present and it appears as if to a shooting star. There is a larger spot and then a thin ridge following behind it, all a stark contrast of color from the rest of my skin. I smile at the memorable thought associated with the scar, but also wince as I think of the pain. Now the scar seems to be a wisp of an ordeal from a past life. Even a year after I got it, it was still soft pink tissue, and each time I touched it, I felt the pain from the unfortunate day where I received such a scar.