Personal Narrative: March Of The Penguins

Upon entering the circus, Edward spots a beautiful girl whom he vows to marry. However, she soon vanishes and he never learns her name. The ringmaster, Amos, agrees to provide Edward with clues about the girl each month that he works for him. He does everything Amos asks of him, which includes sticking his head in a lion’s mouth, washing an obese circus performer, cleaning up after the elephants, and being fired from a cannon. Edward completes every task with a smile knowing that he is one step closer to meeting his future wife.

cancer is the enemy. cncer kills over 20 thousand people a day occording to global report. this terrole disease is so common 12.7 million people a year find out they have cancer and of that number rouggly 7.6 million die. cancer being the leading cause of death world wide has led to several fundraisers to support our courageous fighters. a fundrauser i have been lucky enough to participate in is a 5k run/3k walk. i was 13 when i partocipated in my first 5k run/3k walk in stuttgart germany for a light the night for all kinds of cancers. pervous to the fundraiser i was sadly told my cousin who was just a baby at the tome had been diagnosed with luekimia. immediately i wanted to help, i began by spreading the word around my school and having my friends buy tshirts titled

I felt my heartbeat rising every step I took as the blood rushed to the surface of my skin. My muscles tightened, beginning with my legs as if I could’ve ran fast enough to chase the truck. The image of the man and his words repeated many times in my mind, making me vulnerable to hatred. I thought I was doing something good and just. I was naïve. I thought everyone would gladly give us a helping hand. I looked at everyone around me, and I noticed it wasn’t just me that was burning with raged. I could see the anger in their eyes as they conversed with each other. It wasn’t until a loud voice snapped me out of it. “Do not show fear! Do not show anger! Our justice cannot break that easily!”

The noise kept getting louder and louder and then bam! The smoke from one of the Nazis gun flew off as my little sister lays dead on the floor of my apartment living room.   I see blood drip from her inner thigh, as her eyes become heavy like lead and then finally they became too heavy for her to keep open.  My mother and father both sob into each other’s arms and look horrified as their little girl is no longer in their presents.  I was in shock, my little Alyssa was gone forever.  The tears in my eyes became heavy like my little sister’s dead eyes.

I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped

I reached in my pocket for my pen so I could sketch some flowers. I pulled out a few dollars bills, and I remembered my mother gave me money so I could buy some milk for her. I turned around and went to the grocery. I went into the milk section, grabbed a jug, and headed to the checkout. The man in front of me in the line was staring at me. He looked at me like I was a vicious beast. I began to feel uncomfortable. The teenage brothers behind me were rough housing and when one threw a punch, they knocked me with their elbow. I couldn’t keep my balance. I went diving towards the ground, and I hit the man in the back with my nose. He fell to the ground, holding both his arms like he broke them. I got up and tried to help him up. He was backing up in fear saying, “Monster, you monster.” Everyone began to stare and back away from me, even the brothers. It was completely silent. I could hear my breathing. I heard one of the employees whisper to someone, “Call 911.” Then I bolted out the front door. I ran as fast as my little feet could go. In the corner of my eye I could see people behind me. They were catching up to me. At this point, I knew I couldn’t run any longer. I started to stumble and then, I felt a hand hook my shell. I went flying back. After that, the moment was surreal. I knew my mom was going to kill me, if the police don’t first. I don’t even remember much of it

There were bad days and worse days, I don’t think any could constitute as “good”, but some were definitely better than others. Some nights I was only left with a small scratch, or a drunken slew of words meant to berate me. Others, I was beaten to within the last inch of my life. I became all too used to the feeling of the ground, cold, yet so familiar. The wood tensed with every movement, as if it was flinching, mirroring my own actions. I would lay there, salty tears merging with open cuts, and I wished he would follow through on his promises to kill me. That would be the first time he followed through on anything. But, it wasn’t his actions that hurt me so much as it was his lack of remorse. There were no apologies or meaningless condolences, nothing that shouted “I have an inkling of a conscience” . He was hurting me more often than not, and I was left to pick up my own broken

Most people stopped smiling. Screams were heard. Dancing stopped. Why were people screaming? All I heard was the beat of the music. People began running towards the front door, into the bathroom, behind the bar. Anywhere they could hide. I stood on my tiptoes to see the commotion, A guy was holding a gun, shooting us. Bodies dropped rapidly. My heart sunk. Where was Travis? Kendra? I couldn’t find my best friends. Still on my tiptoes, I looked around. I saw Kendra. Then a crowd of people engulfed her and I could no longer see her. I hoped that my friends would be okay before I rushed into the bathroom. A small pile of people cowered together upon hearing the bathroom door swing open. They thought I was him. Once seeing I held no weapon, they yanked my t-shirt sleeve and pulled me into the pile of crying, shaking, scared friends. I pulled out my phone, clicking it on then opening the thread of messages between my mom and I. Quickly, I typed a brief explanation of what was happening and where I was. I sent an ‘I love you both’ before shoving my phone back in my pocket. I gripped a stranger’s hand tightly, tears rushing down my face like a waterfall. A sob choked in my throat, causing my breath to hitch, letting out a hiccup. A stranger hugged me closer. The shouts wouldn’t leave my head. I heard them all over, I heard the shrieks, the calls for help. Why is this happening? was all I could think. I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing my hands over my ears,

Later on that day, I heard shouting and crying down the road a ways. I swung the door open and ran towards the commotion. My mind was running through the files of my brain thinking on what it could be. I finally thought of the worst situation

I live in place that is a replica of the Disney animated movie The Princess and the Frog. N’awlins, Lusiana. Walking down the streets of the French Quarters, because the only thing in N’awlins is the French Quarters, of course) there is always a brass band playing, and there’s always zydeco music playing as well. People in N’awlins; natives, and tourist are always dancing, and singing marching down to Jackson Square to have a festival, because Jackson Square is the only thing that is in the French Quarters. Being from N’awlins, my daily food consumption only contains, Gumbo for Breakfast, Crawfish for Lunch, More Gumbo, and more crawfish for dinner, and of Course Beignets for desert. My daily mode of transportation is the Street car, because

By the time I arrived home, sirens were blaring all around me. It sounded like they were moving in a ring, slowly converging on me like a pack of wolves. I pulled into the driveway and saw that my house was still standing. It didn’t look like there was much damage. My neighbor’s house, on the other hand, had been flattened to a pancake. I walked in the front door and I finally saw the damage. Shelves were down, the refrigerator was leaning against the island, all the contents of my cupboards were laying on the floor, and the top of my oven had shattered. Even though it'll take a lot of work to clean the mess up, I was grateful that my house was still standing and I was uninjured. I went into the living room and the TV was still intact, so I turned it on and switched to the news. That was when I saw the

She grasped my hand to release my mind from the trance. I stroked my fingertips over the wrinkles that adorned my mother’s weathered hands: the past few months had aged her greatly.

a bird? as I looked closer I realized it was a mortar and I grabbed his shoulder and pointed to the mortar and it hit the ground and it felt like an earthquake and it never stopped raining mortars until eerily silence fell upon what looked like a dust cloud, but to my horror as the dust lifted the many people lying motionless on the ground and the many more crawling out from the debris. I saw jade talking to himself and I asked him what’s wrong and he said”on the radio they said Germany was advancing forward to destroy Jewish, gypsy, and homosexual religion” and utter silence fell upon us with the occasional moaning and screams of pain . He snapped out of his thought and ran to the house with him and I followed him he grabbed whatever he can and put it all in a burlap sack ,as he was tying it up when German infantry broke down our door and grabbed us by the hands and dragged us on the ground with our bag attached to his shoulder and we saw many more people being brought to the concentration camp , we were told by a German that we would be working in factories to help German soldiers on the front line and we slept in a small abandoned 3 person apartment by yourself and we saw women being sent to the uniform factory and men to the weapon making factory and kids were left to play but instead I went around stealing food from bombed

I find myself wondering if life on the raft is anything like being a passenger on one of the steamboats we see every so often. I wonder if the people on board live like we do- like nomads- moving from place to place, never knowing where they might end up. Maybe some of them do, but most of those people probably don’t have to worry about being fugitives and all that. Not that I worry too much when we’re out on the river. Aside from when we have to be careful about keeping Jim from getting caught, life on the raft is pretty carefree. It’s funny how I feel the most free when I’m confined to a small raft. We don’t have to be anybody we’re not. I don’t have to be all proper like Miss Watson wanted, or try to keep Pap satisfied, or come up with some other identity like I do on shore.

I loved the musical and that means a lot coming from me because I do not like musicals but the singing, dancing, and the storyline was just lovely. The lighting was on point it fit every scene I loved the lighting scene when they went dancing how it was flashing random colors. The Spanish was on point they did really well speaking it. Spanish is one of the hardest languages to learn but the cast did really good speaking it. The set oh my gosh was so awesome I couldn't believe it was a set, it looked so real. the dancing went on the play, it stuck I loved it you can really tell the cast practice a lot on the dancing because that type of dancing is a little hard to teach if never danced to that type. The singing was just wonderful I loved