Personal Narrative

They were too late. Two year old Daniel James Westing was found inside a trash bag which was inside a sleeping bag all of which was dangling from a hook in the master bedroom closet. Braxton was notified immediately.

body with a buck knife. The ex­husband was the person that found her, so he called the police and

Before I present let me just take a moment to take a sip of this coffee. Ahhhh that's good.

The police were finally able to identify her body many months after she was killed with the marrow in her bones. Now, actually figuring

Staring up at the dark ceiling, I lay on my bed, my body aching from yesterday’s fall. I really don’t want to move, my back hurting the most. My mind continues to wander back to the strange book. I was so close to maybe finding a way out of this place and now I’m not. All I had to do was just grab the book, but instead I dropped it.

I proceed past the desk and down a long narrow hallway. It was dark like a haunted house. I twirl my key in my hand.

Baghdad, Iraq is where I was born and raised; I lived there for about 6 years during the most pivotal years of the war. My dad left when I was about 7 months. He went to Lebanon to live for a few years before settling in the United States. My mom took care of me and my siblings. War was going on in Iraq; people walked with a dying heart. Iraq was split into Shiite, Sunni, and Christianity. Sunni and Shiite do not have any issues with one another, but there are people who do not like the Shiites and caused civil strife between the two divisions of Islam. My family is Shiite and we do not believe in a separation between anyone because we are one, they are

Someone taps my shoulder gently, and I scribble my notes furiously so I can be done when I turn around. I cautiously look up at the front of the room, and the

I start to internally freak out and hyperventilate. Did Matthew, this fantastic, glorious being from heaven just ask me to get coffee with him sometime? I skipped to homeroom extremely happy and glowing. “Hey coffee breath!”

He [Jack The Ripper] had many victims over the course of his ‘reign of terror’ in East London’s Whitechapel district. Considered to be the first official victim of Jack’s was Mary Ann Nichols. “Mary Ann Nichols, known as Polly, was a prostitute, one of about twelve hundred in Whitechapel at the time” (Douglas, J. & Olshaker, L.)(Pg. 7). As two men walking to their work at a nearby stable thought they saw a tarp on the ground, they went to see if it was in decent shape. Once they got close they could see it was a body and one of the two ran to find a policeman while the other stayed with the body awaiting his friend and the policeman.

This is my evidence of the most gruesome and unforgivable crime I have ever heard of. On November 13, 1959 young London business man Billy Weaver went missing on his trip to Bath England. Two days after Billy departed for his trip he was supposed to report to his Branch Manager for an important business meeting,his manager called the landlady, whose house was staying at, several times asking where he was each time being responded by he isn’t feeling well. His manager finally believed her and told her to tell Billy to call him when he got to feeling better. At the end of the day the call never came, at this point Billy’s manager started worrying about Billy so he called the police and told them them that Billy could

My gaze breaks away from the bright screen, my vision is now struggling to focus, on the now dark room, I seem to be engulfed in. I blink away the rest of the blurriness from my tried (e/c) eyes, and pull my arms high above me, stretching them, until a satisfying click comes from my back.

I blow into the hole of my coffee lid, hoping to turn down the heat of the surface before attempting the thinnest of sips. I like the scent of coffee reaching back to me in the steam.

I continue searching all around, my eyes they wander to and from. This or that may catch my eye, it grabs ahold of my untamed heart.

I couldn’t help but let out another sigh and toss my pen down to my desk. A glance