Personal Narrative Essay - Original Writing

To be able to have control over a situation, first you need to have control over yourself. We can use as an example Stephen King´s novel Cujo written in 1981. In the book, Donna Trenton´s four year-old son dies and the reason for that is because Donna wasn´t able to grasp control of the situation. Her desperation didn´t allow her to think clearly and she never actually stopped and tried to figure out a solid plan, she just did everything as she went along. If Donna had been able to have control over herself and stop her desperation from clouding her mind, she might have been able to

Some people may say that having control over someone or something can bring satisfaction and a sense of power. In the an article called “Gunman Kills Himself After Hostage Drama (584)” written by Charles P. Wallace and Tim Waters loss of control and the feeling of being helplessness makes Robert B. Rose commit a last act of asserting control over himself. In another article written by Martin E.P. Seligman called “On Learned Helplessness (585)” the feeling of loosing control of oneself is something that can cause someone to do things that they thought they would never do. What is hard to understand is that some of the things the someone may commit may implicate the lives of others in a negative way and the ending result could be death.

radio that she had a subject detained at Jack in the Box located at 524 A ST SE

I sighed as I labored through page 56 of the MAT Study Guide. I was preparing for the notorious college entrance exam, but I felt extremely meek in comparison to other tests.

I was barely eleven years old, and almost in middle school when my parents decided I could have my own room. Until this day, I still suppose it was because I would be coming out of elementary school and needed to start learning what it meant to hold responsibility with my newfound independence. Little did I know that by taking the smallest bedroom in our house, I would learn a lesson far greater than my parents or even myself would have expected.

Write a two (or more) page essay in which you will tell a personal narrative (story) in the first person. You are encouraged to share a memory or story that you would be comfortable sharing with myself and the entire class. Remember, your audience is your fellow students or peers. Although no topic is off-limits and no censorship is required, please do not share a story that would make you uncomfortable to share.

Something is going on that makes us think we have control but we do not

The most influential event in my life was moving from Herriman to Draper. The move was accompanied with much sadness and frustration, but I have come to realize that the positive effects far outweigh the negative ones. The biggest result of the move ended up being the ward family we moved into. Other things I was able to do after the move were making friends and discovering many things that I could be passionate about.

“Thwack!” My leg shot up with pain after my brother Keegan’s latest hit. “Wake up RyRy!” my assailant giggled as he dropped his weapon. He looked at me with a smile across his face with not a hint of remorse in his blue eyes. Some people might have been surprised that a three year old could brandish a weapon but, Keegan was an ingenious child. Keegan has always been big for his age, with big blue eyes and buzz cut hair he modeled

I love going to my Nana and Papa’s house. The plentiful trees, smiling faces, and rope swing that hung in the yard were inviting, childish giggles and games always at my disposal.

“Help, someone help me! You can’t take me I have kids to take care of!” I peek out of my kitchen window into the barren town and see another jewish man being abducted from his home by a group of nazis. The past few days have been filled with screams and terror ever since our town has been invaded. It will only be a few more days, possibly even hours, before the inevitable occurs and our whole family is ripped away from each other. As not only fear, but anger seeps into my veins, I walk into the small, dark living room and gather on the grey worn out carpet by the fireplace. Next to me are my two brothers and my parents. My parents are whispering about plans to continue making money since my father had to close down his delicatessen because of the fact that jews are no longer allowed to sell. My brothers Isaac, Mendel and I keep asking questions about what is going to happen with us and our home. My father continues to tell us not to worry but I can see the fear in his eyes every time we hear a noise outside.

All I remember is my parents screaming for me to run and never look back, they told me no matter who knows my backstory and who's afraid of me and because of that I should keep moving forward. I was 7 when a fire started in my house, my parents died in the fire trying to save me. I barely escaped, clutching on to the last breath of life I had in my body. The doctors said I shouldn’t have escaped but somehow I did, they said that I’m very special for surviving . I thought I was just lucky, but my survival came with a cost. I didn’t realize that I was different from other people, I didn’t know the true power I possessed. Until one fateful night.

Kristin leaned back in the swivel chair to think about what she 'd written as she watched the sun slowly appear over the horizon. It filled the billowy clouds with pink and orange streaks that faded into the depths of blue morning sky. Kristin withdrew her holographic keypad and stood to stretch. She thought about how good it felt to write for the website again. She 'd started it up many years earlier, working with various environmental organizations to involve everyday people in small tasks within communities. She hadn’t written in months, making excuses and procrastinating, she finally sat down to end her guilt for ignoring her only current connection with the outside world.

When I had laid the last of the bricks I took a step back to admire my handy work. Still silent in the catacombs, I knew I should be leaving before Fortunato awakes. I began my journey through the endless tunnels of corpses and adorning tombs. I could smell the lingering fragrance of death in the damp air as I stumbled along the dark, uneven pathway. I soon became overwhelmed with the feeling of exhaustion. I began to yell,

I am at room in a very spacious hotel with beautiful ambience and a relaxed atmosphere, far away from the hustles and bustles of this world. And as i could visualize an endless wilderness and say; “it’s in middle of nowhere”, so is this locational description of this hotel. What I now know though, is that it’s at the periphery of our Narok County, deep at the Maasai Mara, Kenya. The hotel usually visited by the high and mighty of this world: Hollywood movie producers, renowned basket ballers and was actually visited by Barack Obama, when he was the United States Senator, Illinois.