Personal Narrative

By this time we had pulled up to the school. Then we exited the bus and dragged ourselves through the prison gates of the prison that were disguise as doors of a school. As I went through the day I could tell something was going just from the vibe of my class and the atmosphere in the halls in between classes. Especially when we had lunch the teachers looked like teens girls who were gossiping out the latest secret but by the look on their face it was clear that something worried them and it was serious. For the rest of my lunch period I tried to think of what could accrue such a situation at the teacher table like nothing was coming to mind. When our lunch period was over our class went back to the classroom. 15min into the class the tornado drill bell started ringing and our teacher hastily escorted us to the hall and had us sitting down with our back against the wall so close to the person next to us we could read each other’s minds. Even with all that’s happening I still wasn’t worried because we had many tornado drill since we lived on Tornado Valley, but never were there tornados. I felt like they were just a waste of time, excepted when they got me out of an energy draining class or a test that

All I had on my mind was that my little brother was falsely accused of vandalism. When I woke up and went to school the following morning, I immediately got called to the office. There I found Branden, Bryson, and Jack. They are football players that cause a lot of trouble . As soon as I walked in, Jack said; “Jake did it and you know it.” Me, knowing this wasn’t true, raised my voice and replied, “You’re a liar and don’t be accusing my brother of something you didn’t know he did! You and your friends probably did it!” At that point, the principal and resource officer pulled the three boys into the office. Soon after, another officer walked in the door. “Emiley, come with me please.” he said. Once we walked into his office, he had the tapes pulled up from that Friday night. “Which one is Jake?” he asked. I replied, “Jake isn’t in it.” While watching the tapes, I saw a blonde haired girl, she reminded me of Anna. I asked the officer, “Who’s that girl?” and he replied “I can’t tell you, is there any reason your brother might’ve done this? Vandalism may be an act of revenge, a way of expressing a political opinion, or a means of intimidation.” At this point, I was so annoyed I got up and walked out. As I left, I walked past the football players as they snickered and laughed. While I was walking back to class, my phone vibrated. My mom texted me saying, Your dad and I are on our way to

I still remember the strange looks on my classmates’ faces when I entered the classroom on an early October morning. It was as if they were expecting some sort of a reaction from me, but I was not quite sure what exactly they wanted me to react to. First few periods passed without anyone saying anything. During the Big Break, however, (after 3 period we usually had 20 minutes to grab some food and relax) as I was walking to the school cafeteria a classmate of mine, one of my best friends, approached me. He asked if I knew what happened with my cousin’s family, but I did not. He then told me that last week one of the famous mobsters in our city had extorted my uncle to sign his house to him and then kicked him out on the street with his two daughters and a wife, just before the beginning of winter. I was devastated. I knew nothing about it. Why did not my parents inform me about this? But probably the worst thing was that I realized that I was in the same class with that same mobster’s son. Of course, a reaction was expected, but how could I judge a kid for his father’s deeds. N. had done nothing wrong. On the contrary he was the most down-to-earth kid in the entire class. But what about my cousins, what about my family honor and the fact that it was completely disgraced by this kid’s father? How could I stand there and just do nothing? I tried to remain calm, but I was torn apart on the

It was just like any other normal Thursday at HempPasture High School. The school day ended and I was exiting the school into the blistering cold air of mid-january. The bone-chilling wind kissed my cheeks, and hurried my rush into the field house to escape the bitter weather. I let out a sigh of relief as i entered the first set of doors, then began my decent down 2 flights of stairs to the locker room. As i descended, I couldn’t help but notice the eerie emptiness of the usually busy area of the field house. The stairwell was dimly lit, and it only seemed to get darker the more i descended. I finally came to the end of the stairwell and paused to see if i could hear anyone else as I usually would on any normal day, but all i could hear was my own faint breath. I slowly opened the door into

It was like any ordinary Monday at our school, teenagers in the halls chatting, people eating during first lunch, and teachers instructing their fourth period classes. But everything suddenly changed when an unnatural looking figure approached the middle school. Slowly limping our direction, he seemed kind of pale, had ripped clothing, and was grunting something unintelligible. Mr. Pixton, an 8th grade science teacher, went to go see what the strange man was up to. When Mr. Pixton got to the mysterious man, the man charged and sank his teeth into his neck. In a panic most students started to run away and scream. While the teacher fell to the ground, the individual unexpectedly ran at another and bit them. As I realized what was happening,

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what

My pursuit of Kelly began almost a year before we met. I was at one of my best friends Ryan's house and I noticed Kelly's picture was on their wall. Immediately I asked Ryan's girfirend, Rugila aka Roo, every question she would tolerate to answer.

" You've been spying on Alison?!?!" Spencer called out to me. I turned around and saw Spencer with an angry expression on her peachy cream complexion.

It was a cold autumn morning when I heard the news coming from my alarm clock radio. Two people had won the lottery winnings from yesterday's drawing. They get to split a great prize, both people got to take home over 3 million dollars. I have been playing the lottery for about ten years now, I have only won three or four thousand, hoping to hit it big. For eight years I have been cleaning and cooking in a half kitchen with dinette. The small apartment had that smell as if something had been wet and moldy. I have had to listen through paper thin walls of, shouting, fighting, and the occasional grunts from some dirty old man upstairs. The constant running trains echo inside the entire apartment building. The living room was just big enough for

I am Ken and I am 14 years old. I am really good at sports. When my family and I moved here in New York from Paris , it was really hard to adjust. I don’t know anyone in New York. However, when I first came here, I met some new friends in the first day of school. “Hey, are you new here?” asked stranger.

I laid with my heaving chest on the cool, grassy ground, my eyes burning from salty tears. I don’t really remember anything else from that day but i don’t think i ever really stopped crying for the next two years. I guess i should back up a little and explain why i was like this at the time, so that means i’ll start from the beginning. No i’m not trying to tell you my sob story, i’m telling how even some big struggles can still have positive outcomes, it's just all in how you look at things. I believe i was nine years old and it was june, or july maybe, because i was no longer in school and the early morning sunshine was already radiating heat. My mom was always working nights at the local hospital. I hated her job because whenever she was

It had been around 42 days. I had no way to know when the sun was rising or setting; I only had my sense of time. They came in every day and gave me a small loaf of bread, some sort of meat, and only enough water to wash down my food. It was not enough to give me strength only enough to keep me alive. I was not sure where I was or even how I got there. The only thing I knew was that I wished I could go back home to my loving family.

I attempted to draw air into my lungs but my throat was too tightly shut by the force of the sash wrapped around my neck. Neither would sound come out, nor air stream in. From afar, I could hear laughter and conversations going on in the near rooms. Louder in my head were muffled noises coming from my nasal passage in its final attempt to breathe in its last breath. Life and death, in this very moment, were all under one roof. My hands, still in my pockets, involuntarily clenched into a fist. My toes cleaved to one another as if to say to each other “We are in this together.” They curved in towards my heel and would have fain clenched into their own fists’. This pendulum of a girl and noose no longer oscillated. Time had stopped. The initial

It was a hot summer day, my mom and I went to a local target to get some school supplies. I was bored out of my mind. I saw rows of food, school supplies, cereal, drinks, whatever was on your grocery list. Every person who walked by had heaps of food, water, anything you need. Is there something fun to do I thought, and while I was thinking that, something caught my eye. It was the game New Super Mario Bros for the Nintendo Wii. I was tempted to steal it but thought of an even better plan. As me and my mom walked past the section with the game, I quickly took it from the shelf and put it between two cereal boxes.

I often feel trapped in my everyday life. It becomes boring and routine. So when I received the opportunity to go to Belize in 7th grade, I was thrilled. I could escape everyday life for a week, spend time with friends, face fears, maybe even feel free.