Personal Narrative

I caused Greg to break his hand without any remorse at the time. Greg was a high school acquaintance who tended to bully me. He was significantly taller, stronger and more athletic; therefore physically bullying me wasn’t much effort for him. When I heard he was coming to work at the warehouse, I wasn’t particularly happy about it. The warehouse contained boxes from multiple suppliers. Some were really thick and some were really thin. They all contained books, though some were heavy text books while others were light weight paper backs. All workers with experience knew which boxes were heavy, which had thick soft cardboard as a box, and which were encased in thin cardboard. I waited until Greg stopped by with his working partner for

I wake up at 5:30, five days a week, and each time I try to cram in five extra minutes, I end up having a late start to my day.

I was only thirteen when I first began to ask “who am i?” My parents would tell me stories of where I’m from, and how Sudan is like. My little brain couldn’t grasp the idea of having family, people that look like me, in the other side of the world. Going there was a dream for me, I had this vision in my head, this adventure I thought waiting for me, and so, I began to nag! “Can we go this summer daddy?” became one of my favorite things to say. I asked and asked, until I got what I wanted.

It seemed like the weekend would never come. It did, and now she had to scramble to get preparations ready for Ray’s arrival this morning and Fiona and Emily’s for lunch.

he first thing I did when I was first placed into my mom’s arm was wink. It was the most peculiar thing ever. She and my dad were both confused, thinking about what that wink would symbolize. Little did they know they had a daughter who would continue to stimulate their brains and logic. I was always an outgoing, awkward child. I was also very conscious of expensive things. I, as a “mature” 3 year old, once told my brother, “Anna (that’s Telugu for older brother), be careful! Is epensive( expensive on three year old speak)!” Every where I would go, I would say hello to every person that crossed my path; if a person didn't respond, I would pester them to the point that a response seemed like their only savior.

A rainy Saturday filled with a bit of cleaning, a lot of work and a constant rain, the hubs and I found ourselves with a hankering for burgers. Of course downtown has options, but we also wanted to get home just in case the downpour decided to continue. One never knows in Michigan after all.

The summer of 2013 was one of the best for me. It changed the word “sister” to me forever. NO life shattering events occurred – that I specifically recall – during the summer of 2013. That summer was different than all previous ones because I was going to be beginning my high school career, and at the same time, my older sister was going to be concluding hers. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that this would be the start of a lifelong friendship. Typically, my sister hung out with her friends and I hung out with my friends. That was it. We didn’t have much in common at the time. That was the summer I realized my sister was my best friend, instead of just my annoying sister.

The peppery scent of Green Giant shrubs mingled with humid summer air, and I breathed a sigh of relief as a cool breeze lifted my shirt from my sticky stomach. Impatiently, I rustled through the bushes and the leaves with prickly ends. Casting an eye about, I saw a deserted landscape. Heart sinking with realization, I peered into the balconies of my friends to confirm my suspicions. The well-lit windows showed the unmistakable glow of the square television in every house. Disappointed, I trudged home with only four words for my mother.

I walked to work trying to keep a decent pace for my weary body, while my mind raced with excitement. How lucky was I? I was going to marry and have a child with James Abby a wealthy kind man, while I was a poor factory worker! Although we had only known each other for a short amount of time, I knew he was the one. We met when I started working at his factory a few months back after I left the coal mines. He treats me so well, he occasionally gets frustrated with me, but it’s only because I am uneducated. Back in the coal mines men would take advantage of me every day, but James actually cares for me. I was snapped out of my deep thinking when I saw James walking into the factory building. I sped up as fast as my hurting body would let me and

“…Turn here.” He just keeps driving, completely ignoring me. “Uh sir, you missed the turn.” Just keeps driving. Then it comes into view; the edge of the road. The cliff. He’s driving right toward the cliff, going faster by the second. The last thing I see before we crash over the cliff is the man in the driver’s seat turn around; those dead eyes staring right at me.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ropable about leaving my home, my friends, and my school. Ever since Mum left us, Dad’s heart bad been set on leaving. Dad’s new life moto: “We have to leave our memories in the past, move on, and start a new chapter in our lives.” Anything I said didn’t even come into consideration. I had just finished the most stressful year of my life, and was finally on the right track, but now the track is coming to a wobbly end.

My eyes shoot open, blood rushes through my veins, a harsh ring pierces my ears, adrenaline jumpstarts my nervous system. Catapulting out of bed, feet crash onto the wood floor with a resounding thud, vibrations shoot up my legs. Intent on murdering my morning nemesis, I take aim at the blaring red-eyed demon sitting next to the fan. Striking with a swift click of the on/off switch, I end the incessant blare of my alarm. "6:15, Monday, not late." A relieved sigh escapes my lips, gaze shifting to my dresser. My anxiety calms quickly, and I notice the cold wooden floor nips at my toes.

On last Friday, I went to Millennium Park at 7:30 P.M. to see the lyric opera to enjoy Friday night with my girlfriend. As Professor told us, I brought wines, glasses, and a blanket to seat down on the park. I arrived there at 7'o clock. I could see a lot of people crowded in that area; some people brought their tea table, chairs, foods, and wines. While I was surprised on what I saw, I tired to find our seats to see the amazing opera that thrilled me over the weekend.

prepared for full power; we need all the power we can get to escape the planet’s gravitational

I stand backstage in the wings, waiting for my entrance. It’s opening night of The Drowsy Chaperone, and I’m playing the role of Trix the Aviatrix. I’m slightly panicking. I don’t know what to expect from eight hundred new eyes watching me from the audience. The orchestra starts up. My friend grabs my arm, and tells me to “break a leg”. I make my entrance. I stand