Personal Narrative-Dalia

I rush into my home and run up the stairs to my room. I jump on my bed and roll over to my laptop and open it quickly. I log onto the One Direction site and see that I made it in time to see the bid. I scroll and try and find my name and I see I'm in third place for the tickets and the time is running out. I've already bid $7000 for three tickets and backstage passes. The reason it's so expensive is because these passes are the last set of passes for their concert. 5sos is also playing so we would be meeting two bands and hearing both of them play.

Going to a concert is an experience incomparable to any other. Here it is, the moment, every concert goer has been waiting for, the artist coming onto the stage. Hearts begin to race as the music builds each fleeting second before the artist comes out. Smoke fills the dark stage illuminated by the band's tour video playing. Then, in the center of the stage, doors begin to open revealing four singing boys. Crying and screaming

“Shut up, Alec. Tessa, this is Alec, my pain in the ass cousin.” I waved as a way of greeting. Talking would just hurt too much right now.

On a Saturday morning, around 10am, my family was getting ready for my niece’s (Maritza) 4-year-old birthday party. After 12:30pm we were already at my sister’s (Adele) house, ready to give my niece a hug and her annual present. At the moment Maritza wasn’t home, so I stalled for a bit. Chatted with their neighbor, few high school friends, and their wife’s. Finally, she showed up along with her father. The first person she hugs is me, I’m her favorite uncle, according to her, as she hugs my legs and looked up and says, “hey uncle J.” I replied “hey?” with a bit of a curiosity on my mind. Her lip had a big red lump. I managed to not ask her what had happened on her lip. I’m thinking it’s a “I fell down” type accident. The party went off, and

The night was another quiet one , the morning even more quiet . No more family sit downs at the table , just coffee brewed from whoever wakes up first and help yourself to breakfast. I sat outside the porch with my coffee , first day of October with the fall feeling in the air , I was looking at nothing , I pulled out my cell phone and decided it was time to tell Trever my input on who is doing this. I heard his phone ringing , but it went straight to voice mail , I left a long message explaining everything , hoping this will get him to look into her.

I’m Kyla Painter. Today I am doing an essay all about me and stuff I do. For example, my family, the schools I have attended, my education, interests, special talents, my opinions about the world today,and a few more things. There is a lot to know about me. Keep reading to see.

It was late one day in June, and the sky was as blue and clear as sparkling wine. I sat back in my hammock reading the book Unbroken enjoying myself, and my uncle came up and asked me if I wanted to play poker with him, 5$ buy in. I jumped at the idea finished my page and went inside the house. Poker is a pretty big thing in my family and I’ve grown up playing and my uncle was one of the best, so spending time with him playing poker is always one of my favorite things to do. We proceed to set up the table, “Texas Holdem“ he says, Jacks to open”. Nothing weird, so we get the game going and the pots getting pretty big when all of the sudden he drops his cards. I stare the cards dead in the eye and see that i'm going to surpass him! He looks

Ignoring me, he continued, "She broke up up with me because I bought her a simple neclace for her birthday not the diamond bracelet she wanted."

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll see you when we all live in peace and harmony. I’ll see you on the other side.” My great-grandmother, Minda, was a ninety-one year old lady from Russia who had a passion for dance and music. Minda, I called her Omi, filled any room with joy and happiness. Omi fell deaf at a very early age, which led to her family's move to America to get a stapedectomy which repairs hearing loss. Unfortunately, doctors in America were unable to save her hearing. Even though she was deaf, she still sang and danced her way through life, until the very end.

Shainna Ali sits at her desk in her office preparing for the day and all of the appointments it will bring. Photos of family and friends are positioned on the desk around her. All of her hard work has led her to the moment she has spent years preparing for: graduating in May with her doctorate.

I was eight years old when I went to my local elementary school for a Three Kings Day celebration, which is very popular in my heavily Spanish-populated city. By pure luck, I was chosen in a raffle to go backstage and choose a gift along with nine other kids. Hundreds of colorful balls, board games, and toys of different shapes and sizes and I had the choice. I was living every child’s best dream. Suddenly, I was attracted to an odd looking, purple box about two by four feet, with a crazy white-haired guy on the cover. I grabbed it and went off stage where I was greeted by the surprised looks of my friends. “Of all the toys you could have chosen...you chose a school game?!”

I noticed it was getting harder to finish assembling my gun; I was losing the outside light. The sun was already setting, even though it was just after three. I remembered when I had gone to Middle School, during winter, of having to walk through Arkham's icy atmosphere instead relaxing in the warm luxury of riding in the car, which we'd sold to defray, in part, another of the old man's expeditions, this time to Nepal in search of the legendary Plateau of Leng. Such dangerous destinations meant nothing to me at the tender age of thirteen, of course, except in that I could no longer bask in the warmth of the Nexus's heater.The Eastern horizon would be barely beginning to lighten by the time I reached the gate. I got home just after

I hear it from my bed, my mom’s flip-flops hitting the floor. Dread fills me as the footsteps get closer and closer. “Si se la pasa ahorita”. She forces the phone into my hand and mouths that es tu abuelita. She walks out and I’m left with silence on the other line. I take a deep breath and practice the words in my head as quickly as I can. “Hola Abuelita, como estas?” A million things run through my head. I could tell her about my friends, my grades, the movie that I saw or how I really love her and how I miss her, but none of that comes out. It’s a quick “how are you?...I’m good...Say hi to everyone for me. I love you” I hurriedly end the conversation, pushing the phone back into my mom’s hands and running away to my room.

Aileana and I made plans to jog along the beach and then go out surfing today. We decided to meet on the beach around nine this morning. I thought I would surprise her later with something different she would delight in. I wanted this to be a special day of having fun and enjoying each other. She now felt up to exercise. Her ribs still gave her a few twinges when taking deep breaths, but her face was back to its beautiful contours with her lush lips back to their kissable self.

Throughout the conversation, Susan did not inform me that the home was still in First Look and not open to investors at this time. Susan did not highlight any features of the home, nor did she talk about the neighborhood or the surrounding area. When asked, Susan paused to reference the property file and stated, "In looking at the pictures it appears that it needs interior paint, carpet, appliances, and a few windows, which the previous seller must have taken." She stated, "I don't know why they have to remove things from the homes." I asked, "Do you have offers?" She paused to check the property file and answered, "No offers." I asked, "Is the property behind the home farmland?" She paused to reference the property file and replied, "It appears