Personal Narrative: A Virus

At the age of nine, I watched my uncles lowering my father into the ground and what took his life was addiction. All my life I have watched addiction take over the lives of people, I love. My father's side of the family, besides my grandparents, has always faced addiction. Although, addiction runs through my blood, I will not take the same path I have watched people take all my life. I will be the one to end the cycle. Watching the majority of my family waste their life has motivated me to change the direction and better myself from living a life of addiction and misery.

A deadly virus has spread through out my whole school and I’m the only survivor , I need a plan to escape. Most of the students and teachers left their laptops and phones here, my plan was to get every electronic device and play a certain song out load on every device. This will attract the zombies and I will be able to escape through the window. Once I jumped out I ran to my car and started the engine. My plan is to go to Walmart and then travel to Dicks sporting good for weapons every week. The top five things I’ll bring with me to say alive is food, water, weapons, health supplies, and people. If you want to survive a zombie apocalypse you have to be able to work with other survivors. I’ll hide in high ground due to the fact that I’ll have

Monster” feels when causing physical harm. When in reality, it is not helping a thing.

Over my years of school, one big influence on me has always been sports. Ever since a young age, I have always enjoyed playing and watching sports. In my four years in high school, I have fell in love with the sport of lacrosse.

I woke up and took one bite out of my pop tart but that one bite was all I could eat. My legs were shaking, and my heart was pounding. My dad told me, “It is a true honor to even make it this far so go out there and have some fun.” Once I heard this statement, I knew I was ready to go. I arrived at school and boarded the bus. The car ride was an hour and fifteen minutes of hearing the squeaking of the wheel on the bus. My teammates were getting their heads ready for the big game.

Her father’s words echoed through her head as one might hear a reverberation throughout the Taj Mahal. Continuous. Chilling. Having no control to distill the wavelengths until they mellowed out on their own accord. She tried to anatomize the depth of his phrase, more than dutifully needed but Davina needed to know why. Why did she need to keep an open mind and more importantly, who the hell was about to come bursting through that door. But then again, did it really matter in the first place. When she thought about it, the brunette could have laughed at the idea. That an unattributed, faceless figure had her panties in a bunch. Surely Dominic wouldn’t think to waste her time with venial diversions,

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three.

It was a cool November day, in the middle of Afghanistan. As a medic, I was sitting outside my make shift aid station with one of my buddies sharing stories about home. We hear a loud explosion right outside of the wire. I looked up and could see the cloud of smoke billowing up from about two hundred meters away. Not knowing how bad the situation was, I grabbed a few of my soldiers, our translator and my aid bag and ran straight to the smoke. When we got there, a group of civilians were huddled around a group of people who were yelling, screaming and crying. The translator found out that a group of three men and three children were walking around a field when one of the children stepped on a mine. One of my soldiers grabbed the mine

I can still remember everything from the first day of the outbreak. We were sitting next to each other on the couch, like we did every night. The television was playing something that I wasn’t watching and we were both dozing off to sleep when an emergency broadcast started. The presenter on the screen reported of a virus that had evolved from only infecting insects to infecting humans. She talked about words like ‘apocalypse’ and ‘zombies’ only the host of the virus turns numb and mindless, not much like the zombies from our movies we watch together.

Sam walked down the corpse ridden street. The smell would have been unbearad past an old abandoned tavern as a horse drawn cart hobbled by full of reeking bodies. The Plague had started 37 years ago when the gallys had arrived at Italy’s port. When the Plague hit, great panic almost spread as fast as the Plague itself. People adopted insane Ideas of how this happened and what to do. Even though Sam lived at a small town he had heard rumors of a exceptionally psychotic group called the flagellation.

It was a peaceful day in a crummy condo. My brother and I were sitting in his room. I had AP Social Studies homework and he had 7th grade English. He was in the middle of asking me a question when a gust of wind came through the closed window. I kind of, how do I put this, a noise. A very dim, subtle noise. A ZING, SWOOSH, SHUUWAH noise. And out popped two people. A man and a woman. They looked at us in a passive, easygoing way, and the women said to us in a soft, calm voice, “We are your parents. And want to take you home”.

The poem “A Poison Tree” by William Blake discusses human nature’s true form. Someone who is furious with a friend would obviously want to mend the friendship, so they let their anger simmer. However, someone who is upset with an enemy has no reason to tell him or herself to not be mad because all they are to you is an enemy. Therefore, your hatred eventually takes over and you do something dreadful. This literary composition shows the readers how anger can take a toll in two different directions. The poet writes with such ease, that it makes us readers believe he’s gone through it already.