Personal Narrative-Down Lambert Road

“Emergency code 10-48, suspect is a 6’1 male, black hoodie, armed and last seen fleeing towards Gray Street”, the radio roars. I’m on Gray Street. The last thing I want on my first month in the force is a damn killer in my face.

What are they doing?” I think to myself again. Two of the people I noticed while we turned onto this street are stumbling toward Ben’s car. They are both carrying a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Their clothes are baggy, and their pants are sagging below their butts. Their baseball caps are turned sideways. I lock my doors and continue to panic. I can hear the guys yelling at Ben, threatening him. The longer we sit here and the louder the men at Ben’s window become, the more obvious it becomes they are not sober. This fact sends me into an even deeper level of stress. At this point it becomes abundantly apparent that my car is a rag top convertible. “One of these guys could easily come cut my roof open and get me,” I think to myself as my stress and fear completely take over my thoughts. I can barely breathe at this point. I still cannot figure out why Ben is still sitting here, and why he does not just drive away. They are telling him to get out of the car now. I knew had a bad feeling about this little

I sat in the back of the car, with my earphones plugged into my i-pod. I was listening to Rubber Soul, one of my favourite albums. I was really excited. The reason for this was that we were on our way to Liverpool. My parents had secretly organised this trip for my 18th birthday (which had been yesterday), which was the nicest thing anybody had ever done for me. We would be visiting The Beatles' childhood homes, The Cavern, Strawberry Fields and lots of other cool Beatle-related places. The mere thought of it made me smile. Two years ago I had become a huge Beatles fan and ever since then I had been dying to go to the place where it had all started.

I never understood why my parents told me to be careful. Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way.

The slim, white framed mirror positioned in the corner of my room glares back at me, projecting a transparent image of reality. The reflective glass reveals my hazel brown eyes, pale smile, freckled face and confident stature. Yet what lies beyond the perfection–beyond the seemingly faultless façade–is a tsunami of fear suppressing the strength I once possessed…

The Black Keys play in the background, and damn if I don’t see Caleb plain as day. “These Days” is one of my favorite Black Keys songs, and I ride my high as they sing softly over smooth instrumentation. I can see Caleb screaming, but I can’t hear him over the music. I take another hit of my cigarette, lay my head back against the wall, and close my eyes.

As mentioned last week, even though Mike Campbell recently turned 90, the long-time New Victoria resident still laces up the blades three times weekly to play gentleman’s league hockey. Campbell, by the way, walks regularly, shovels snow and during the summer, cuts a heck of a lot of grass. To be sure, resting on a hammock with a book in hand and a cool drink by his side “ain’t” for him.

Three years on and a nightmare is still my reality; I’m haunted by her battered form and unseeing eyes whenever I close mine.

"RUN" the man yells as he fires two more shots towards the door and takes a hold of my wrist. Dragging me through the endless corridors of the compound.

He was speechless, completely stunned by the words spewing from my mouth. “No offense, but you’re sounding like a true queer. Trade spots with me then, my dude. I’ll happily let Mrs. Sorun look whenever, touch wherever, and do whatever she wants as long as I continue to have the honor of getting to bathe in her presence.”

There were currently two people in a room having an avid staring competition... or at least that what it looked like. The older man decided to speak up first, "Tell me James. How do you feel about reincarnation."

After I get out of our small, black Nissan Versa, I grab my backpack from the trunk. I run inside to avoid getting wet from the huge waterdrops falling freely from the sky. I open the door and go to the dining room table of my grandparents house. I start on the division and multiplication problems my teacher, Mrs. Cyphers has assigned us. As I am working, there is a sense of uncertainty in the air; a pit in my stomach that makes me think something is really wrong. As I am working, my mom and mamaw are in the kitchen, talking in a low voice. I began to get more worried by the second. What could possibly be wrong? They have to tell me. My mom then came in with a concerned look on her face. She says, “Lilly, I need to tell you something.” My look

I knew that things were bad, but I didn’t realise how bad they were. All around us, men were losing their jobs, children were going hungry, and families were losing their homes, but I never thought that it could happen to us. And for a while, I didn’t realise that it had happened. When my husband, Charles, lost his job, he hid it from me for weeks. He felt that he had failed, and he was too ashamed to admit that to me. He prided himself on being able to provide for our family, and suddenly he couldn’t.

Two-thousand six-hundred and ninety feet. Those 2,690 feet just sit there, mocking me, as I look up from down below, contemplating the challenge that sits before me as I embark on my quest. My muscles scream for me to stop, my lungs beg for air, the cool droplets of sweat drench my shirt, but I don’t stop. I keep going, until I reach the top.

We turned the corner to take a little shortcut to go to the church instead of taking the main street.The road was very bumpy due to the enormous amount of rocks. I turned around and saw the man on the bike from before, “Wow what a coincidence that he takes this shortcut too?” I thought. Assuit wasn’t very big, there were a couple major streets but mostly little shortcuts like the one me, my mom and the man on the bike took. So it was so common to be going in the same direction. But that time it wasn’t a coincidence, it was planned and all because our heads weren’t covered. But yet again, what did I know? I was only seven years old.