Personal Narrative: Drinking Water

My hands were covered in blood.. It was only a matter of time till they caught me.. I could hear the roaring of the wind. The heavy breathing coming from my own chest.. My stomach ached in pain. I could feel the tears beginning to escape from my eyes...

Shipwrecked, Alone, and Enslaved . One of these alone can kill you in a matter of minutes. Cabeza de Vaca, a military veteran now expedition treasure, endured all three and walked away to tell the tale. Spring of 1529, five Spanish ships departed the port of Seville to embark on

The rising sun was orient in the blue sky. Dewdrops sparkle in the morning sun. Someone patted me on the back. The man whipped out a knife. He was a fat clumsy and dirty looking man. His hair had been badly cut and the ends were uneven. The sight made me stop dead in my tracks. Fear stole into my heart. He cowed me with his threats. The smell of smoke clung to his clothes.On the one hand, he had pressed and held both my hands. On the other hand, he continually stroked my body. He just bear down on me with all his strength so I was unable to repel and move. The rough cloth pricked my skin.Then I just lost it and started screaming. "Stop it !" I bellowed at him. My word made no impression on him. No one was on the scene at the time. Why he did it? What was his intention in doing that? How could this happen to me? Why should it be me? After that, every step I took sent the pain shooting up my thighs. I could not breathe. As I straightened up, the ache in my back grew worse. I bore the pain without a word of complaint. I thought it would

I was broken. I had nothing left inside of me, my life was slowly disappearing and I couldn’t stop it. As I lied on the cold wooden floor of my room the pain from where he had hit me was erupting inside of me. Every part of my body ached in agony, I struggled to suck in air. As my eyes flooded with tears and I looked at myself in the mirror I was horrified at the person looking back at me. Blood was running off my face and onto my nightdress. Deep purple welts had already started to form across my fragile body from the forceful impact of his rough fists that consistently made contact with my small figure. But living day and night in this torture couldn’t hurt me anymore than it already has, but what does is that it was him that did this to

Rafe I pushed the arm in front of me even deeper into the guy’s throat. It was much harder than it had been the first time and I felt his Adam's apple push into my skin.

As I awaited my death I tried to figure out what I did that made him so mad, I was thinking about all of them and then as I saw him wind up to charge at me I figured out what I had done, I took some of the food that he was saving, which wasn’t even that good.

As I picked him up he twisted in air landing -perfectly balanced - on the ground, holding my arms. He clutched my claws so hard I was finding it hard not to cry. My first instinct was to run, get out before I turned out like my meals. I started to run away hoping to loosen my attackers hands, but he stood firm pulling my arms back.

Lydia Freeman March 26, 2017 B1 Honors Lit – Narrative Broccoli Shrimp Soup turned Killer My Parents always told me people who laugh at their own mistakes will get everyone else to laugh along with them. Two days ago, I learned that he was right. “Stay in line”, Mr. Mark said. I knew right away that my friend Linda wouldn’t be able to cut. I looked at Naomi and smirk. Soon, the line began to move faster, and I followed along praying that there would still be Shrimp soup. When I reaches the counter, I looked at the choices. I could only see Fish, Broccoli, Tater Tots, cheese, and chicken. I could only hear the loud rumbling of my very VERY disappointed stomach. “shrimp soup”’ I said politely. Mr. Mark handed me the soup. I took the bowl so

She was hunched over, reliant on a cane for assistance whenever she moved. She had brown skin like Impa's, and her hair had been braided heavily, and was wrapped around her head, with a large braid (again similiar to Impa's, but larger) hanging off on her head. She wore mostly

He then proceeded to grow into a man, his skin turned blue and two more arms grew out of his body. He looked as if he was hundreds of years old but how could he still be alive. He pulled a knife from his pocket out and held it to my neck.

I stood there helpless, no choice, as I felt the cold blade slowly move across my head. Over and over again. Cutting every last piece of my identity, changing who I am, and what I look like. My hair was like the green grass that will eventually grow back. The cord brushes against my wrist many times, a towel draped around my shoulders to catch all of the pieces of my dark beautiful hair that will soon be gone. It feels as if I am loosing my life, my story, my everything. Having the fear of people looking at me or even staring at me everywhere I go. The stress of people feeling bad for me and me not knowing what to say. Staring into my eyes I see flashbacks of my childhood. When the days were better. When I could go see my friends and they didn't have to come and see me.

I stood there frozen as if time stood still unable to comprehend the lad's head exploding in front of me and his body dropped to the floor following his knife.

The Blade of the Craft Guild realized his mission would be much more difficult than he expected when less than twenty steps into the Wretched Quarter a man in a torn and dirty black robe confronted him. The Blade was covered in filth, had on a dirty and torn yellow

(1)I walked into the barber and the barber was sitting near his chair stropping his razor diligently, as I walked in he started to shake slightly but then hid the shakes but in his eyes I thought I saw that there was some panic in them but I was not sure. He had stopped sharpening the blade during that but he was now doing it again I assume in preparation of shaving me. I took off my gun and ammo and I put it in the wardrobe that was for this purpose, I then turned toward him and said “I want a shave” with that I took a seat. My heart began to race as I sat down and I started to get nervous if I should just run but I didn’t show any of this in front of the enemy that might kill me, if I was going to die I wanted some dignity.

Then I looked at the factory of pain that was my arm, and remembered everythung that happened. Knife. He took my knife. And broke my arm. How did I get in a tree?