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Personal Narrative-Color Blind

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It was the burning in my throat that woke me up. I coughed, a hacking rattle, and stared as my breath steamed into the air. "It cannot really be that cold in here," I mumbled, pulling the covers around myself. I tried to recapture the last few images of the dream I had just been having. Slowly it came back to me in bits and flashes - I had put a ring on my finger and turned into a dragon. I had raced through the sky, wings beating against the air, wisps of clouds caressing my blue, scaly skin. Far beneath me a sleek, black car full of blond Nazis had raced along a curving road. I had opened my jaws wide and sprayed flames towards the ground. My alarm went off, and I rolled out of bed, happy to find that the temperature in my room was not, in fact, below zero. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my short brown hair tufting away from my thin, pale face and my brown eyes that had shadowy circles under them. At sixteen years old I already knew that I was not, nor would I ever be, a morning person.…show more content…
I grabbed the first clean sweater and jeans I could find and pulled them on, ignoring the thought that I'd look better if I actually gave myself more than a few minutes to get ready in the morning. I shoved my feet into my shoes and ran down the staircase to the kitchen, grabbing my red bookbag on the way. "Morning, Maria," my mom said, shaking her head slightly as I shoved a poptart into the toaster. "Morning," I replied, voice hoarse, winking at my little brother, Benjamin, who was sitting at the table eating a bowl of ceral. "And I know, I know. I should get up earlier." I grabbed the poptart, slammed the front door behind me and rushed down the porch stairs. I could see the bus waiting for me at the end of the long, winding
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