Personal Narrative Essay On The Shack

As I sat in my fourth grade English class listening to my teacher tell me "you have a book report due in just two short weeks" and I thought to myself how am I ever going to do this? I have never been a good writer and I have no idea where to begin explaining the book "Little House on The Praire" and presenting it in front of the class without being embaressed as all get out.The day went on as I thought about it more and more the bell rang. I ran out to my mom's car and stated "Mom I have a book report due in just two short weeks and I cant do it. She said "why not honey" I said " Im just not s good enough writer" She said " yes you are and yes you can and you will do a fantastic job at it. That is when I realized I am a writer.

in 2014 I had done a lot of fundraising in the past year such as selling about 50 spam musubis a day plus cookies and brownies and even selling bentos and doughnuts ands finally trail mix bars during school. even outside of school I did fundraising from car washes to even mowing yards. eventually I made enough money with the help of all my family to get to go on the trip. I even made more money so I could relinquish it so I can buy gifts and such things like food. I'm not infallible at Japanese because it so happens that I cant read any of the signs that are in japan. when we landed in japan it was amazing because the airport was so huge and had paintings that look so amazing. when we got our luggage, it was pouring rain when we went outside to the bus. it was about an hour and a

Ants are to hills as farms are to the family. For as long as the family had lived in Greenville, we have always had a farm, it was tradition. My grandmother and my mother took trips to the farm since they were 8 years old, the same age as me. Now, it was my turn to get accustomed to the farm life and all it had in store. My cousins, Jay and Jasmine, were coming with my grandma and I to meet my grandpa at the farm. Just as we always do everything was made into a competition whether it was: who would fall asleep first, who could eat the most, or who knew more about any given topic. Even in the cold arms of defeat I would not let them know I had absolutely no knowledge about the “Farm Life”. This is surely a day meant to stay in my memories for eternity from; the early morning preparation, the attack of the ants, and the watermelon .

Last year, in October during the cheerleader’s concert, that my mom and dad were singing at, I asked, “Do you want to dance?” My mom said, “yes”. Walking out to dance, she fell and accidently tripped me and landed on my ankle. It felt as if someone was breaking my leg in half. It got really numb where I couldn’t feel it, but I still knew I was in some pain. Picking me up off the ground, my mom sat me on the bleachers. Everyone came over there and it was really embarrassing. My dad carried me to the car and we drove to the dollar store to buy me an icepack to put on it.

I looked forward to this trip every single year. Driving to get there was almost better than the camping trip itself. The road had big hills that made your stomach drop on the way down, and I always pretended I was on a roller coaster. At the top of one of those hills, there was a wooden sign, painted brown with yellow letters, all in capitals, that said “WICKLUND’S CAMPGROUND”. The driveway was a simple, downhill dirt road that had a bend at the bottom of the decline. Driving around that corner, you could always see the lake sparkling through the thin line of trees because the sun was always shining. It was cloudy that day.

One day at our summer cabin in the woods me my mom,dad,brother, and sister were having a peaceful day except for that this time we were in danger having to live off the land. For we feared that some kind of creature had taken over our cabin. What was once a peaceful vacation spot was know a place of eeriness.

On April 1, 2000, I was placed into a group home because of my behavior at the home. My dad and I didn’t get along. So he sent me to a placed called Bowman House. When I arrived there the first person I met was a lady name Alexander, she begin showing me around the units. Alexander was called the granny of the units. It was two units for the boys and girls. She took me to the boys unit first to look at the units. After I looked at the boys unit she took me to the girls unit. Where I would be staying. I had the chance to bond with Alexander, it wasn’t something I was trying to do it just happen. I had to stay with Alexander until the staff came back from picking the other peers up from school. An hour pass and the peers came back I had to go

It was a trip I thought would be the same as any other trip, fun and memorable, which Onion Creek was, but it was more, it was a walk into a new culture. Onion creek held an aspect in their lifestyle which my culture was lacking, I discovered my phone wasn’t needed throughout the weekend, only my outspoken personality, because that’s what Onion creek preserved, the love and compassion of one another’s company. This is why I couldn’t make into words what my thoughts were, it was too much to fathom, so I simply came out

The Whiting Homestead in St. Johns, Arizona, has brought our family together for nearly one-hundred years. On July 19th, 1919 a land patent was issued to my great- great grandfather, for one-hundred and sixty acres of land in the White Mountains. He was able to claim this land after three years of walking countless miles from his home, to stay there every night to claim the land. This place has brought me so many cherished memories, and I have always loved everything about going up to the White Mountains and staying in our grandparents’ cabin. We called it the “Brown Cabin,” because it was painted a dull, cocoa brown color. It was a quaint little cabin with a kitchen area, and separated by a door, was a big room where family members would crowd

The first day was pretty great. There was many cabins. Six of my friends and I decided to stay in a cabin called “willow.” The cabin had bunk beds and it had a bathroom and shower which was great because my friends and I wouldn’t have to share bathrooms and shower with all of the people. At the introduction they were telling me about the rules of the camp and our expectations. Then we ate lunch and I liked the food there it was really good. Then the real fun began. My friends and I went swimming. When I was standing on the edge of the bridge one of my friends pushed me. I got him back by doing it to him too. Then my friend and I went canoeing and we were doing really great at not tipping over but then we did tip over and we all fell in. It

Not long ago I glance around looking at the people around me in a chilly fragrant small trailer home that smelled of pets with the dog barking and the cat sprinting across the carpet back and forth, I saw how much happier everyone was now compared to when we lived in a big clean house with a warm fireplace. That day I realized that it all comes down to the company you keep. You could live in a mansion and be miserable if the people who are there with you are toxic to the same extent you could live in a tent surrounded by friends and be as happy as a clam. We had just been kicked out of the house due to a divorce; thankfully we were prepared for it and made arraignments to stay with family. It is almost shocking the complete lack of stress

We moved to the house on Wilhoyt Lane when I was in fourth grade. Before we moved to the house on Wilhoyt Lane we lived in a two story house in the middle of some fields. Before my dad got a job in Yerington my mom was a teacher in Fernaly and my dad did tile. The house that we lived in was a one story house that was in a decent sized neighborhood, with a small backyard. The house that we lived in Fernaly was definably smaller than the houses we lived in Yerington.

Some summers ago, my brother Jack, and my cousins, Amber and Ethan, and I were on my grandma's 600 acre farm playing in the fresh breeze that smelled like the flowers in my grandma’s garden. While the strong heavy wind whipped my hair around we discussed walking to the creek behind the house past the corn field. Without any consideration of the consequences we merrily headed towards the corn field that was full of towering, green corn stalks. Running briskly through the corn we almost got lost, but we kept running carelessly while being smacked by the corn husks until we were out and could feel the warmth of the sun on our backs.

As the explosions continue we hear the radio broadcasting its final message giving survivors, advice not to depart from their shelter until at least a month due to overwhelming amounts of radiation. I feel fortunate to have always kept the bomb shelter from the fifty’s well stocked in case of a disaster such as this I have always been paranoid and luckily enough it turned out to have saved my life and the ten others who occupy the shelter with me. As I glance around the shelter I realize it is no bigger than the lake house my Uncle Bob owned. The shelter is comprised of four rooms a kitchen, a designated sleeping area with 6 cots, the main hall, and a storage room. The shelter certainly wasn’t designed to occupy eleven individuals and as such does

Coach Burns gave the Porters and we free passes to the game. My sister Julie and me decided to make use of them. The Porters and we made plans to go together. Since they lived farther from the stadium than us, they were going to pick us up. They did not put the stadium within walking distance, unfortunately. While Julie and I stood waiting at the curb, John and Laura Johnson drove up and offered to take us to the stadium.