Personal Narrative : A Short Story

“Mom, please! don’t leave me here!” I squealed as I held her arm with an iron grip. “Let go. I have to go to work today,” she said as she tried to move while I clenched her arm as I hard as I could. I just did not want to go on the treacherous, black, and springy trampolines. I was very anxious about hurting myself badly on the trampolines. “Is Aadit Janu here today?” Ryan our instructor said in a booming voice as he checked of names on his clipboard. “Go! Ryan is calling your name,” My mom said

I can’t recall the exact day, all I can remember is the pain from embarrassment. I was the first guy to ever be beaten by a girl. In my defense, her brothers held me down but that made the story less “Breaking News”. In the early morning, Susan asked me if we could trade lunches and I agreed. I totally agreed, of course, I had a crush on her. It was one of those crushes where everyone knew except for her. I never admitted it because admitting you like a girl in the first grade is considered “totally

I couldn’t believe Bub woke me up. I couldn’t believe Bub woke me up. Oopsie daisy sorry, I just woke up. He asked me help set up the party, for his OWN birthday. I couldn’t believe he had to set up his own birthday on the day it was. He was on his phone texting our cousin, george. “Howwww Niceeee!” He said, when he got a text! “You know what's nice...MY DREAM you interrupted!” He told me he was going to tug me out of bed. He was not kidding, he actually dragged me through the house, all the way

caught by one of the S.W.A.T. officers. I remember being in a helicopter and being brought to a tower. I was led to a room with a gun pointed at my back, I wanted to run and get my life over with but I knew that my job was more important than my personal wants. I saw a man his face was

up, but I got up too fast so then I fall back down to where I was, making it even more embarrassing. “Sylvia, what were you doing on the floor of the restaurant?” That was when I knew I knew this man. His name was Nate, and he was from one of the stories I imagined in my head. I feel something in my hand, so I look, but it’s just that glass thing that was hanging on the door. I shove it in my back pocket trying to figure out what’s going on. I look around, and it’s exactly how I imagined it. I look

“I met your mother on a muggy February afternoon on a short trip to the grocery store”. Sam said to his daughter, who was sitting across from him, sipping on a warm coffee. “At least, so I thought. A 'short trip' turned into something else when it started raining down - cats and dogs, if you will - and suddenly I couldn't see where I was driving”, he continued. “I should’ve slowed down, taken precaution, but I kept going.” “I lost control for a moment after hitting what seemed like a bump. I slammed

It was a rainy summer night, my family and i we’re driving on I-40 to go back home from the beach. My mother was holding a rosary and praying, my siblings were completely knocked out in the backseat, and i was in the middle seat dozing off with my earbuds on. My father was driving, and next to him was empty Coca Cola can that he drank to stay awake. As soon as i closed my eyes i heard a scream - i don’t recall what was said, all i remember was the tone: of desperation. I immediately woke up, and

=One day Breanna was on her way to the store. She was going to the store for some clothes and food. Breanna is seventeen years old and loves shopping. When she got to the store she saw two security guards. She was a little confused but didn’t worry about it. When she was about to go inside the store one of the guards stopped her. Then she could not believe what she heard. “I am sorry ma’m but you can not come into this store” said the guard. “What!? Why!” said Breanna. “It is now against

Personal Narrative “A society that gets rid of all its trouble makers goes downhill.” Robert A Heinlein, Time Enough For Love Walking down the empty hallway, I ask one of my best friends, Taylor, “What are we going to do Friday night?” “Remember when we were talking about high school bucket list?” she asks. “Yea,” I say with a hint of confusion. “Well, it is on my bucket list to sleep in my car for a night, so I was wondering if you would be willing to,” she responds. “That could be fun!” I say with

On a cold December morning snow blanketed the ground while a frozen mist masked the trees. Only the very tops could be seen. I stepped outside and inhaled the clean, crisp Texas air. Still half asleep, I walked to the truck feeling the soft powder compact beneath my boots and the snowflakes melt as they hit my skin. It was the time of year that I had been longing for. I loaded my ammo box and Remington 1100 shotgun that my father had given to me years before into the truck. I stood still and opened