Personal Narrative Fiction

"Okay that's a wrap y'all," One of the choreographers announced into the most annoying object I've seen in my life. A megaphone. I've been sitting, observing, yawning from the side views of the gymnasium. A wall completely made of mirror was directly in front of the dancers, and supposedly it's there to help with spotting and spacing...other things that wouldn't really concern me. The dancers, sporting glistening sweat that lined their hairlines, were originally planned to practice on a real stage. Judging off of where my feet are located at, you could see we weren't exactly at that part in life.

I went out the place and sat in her car. "Maybe some music will help me consume all of this." Sky clicks the radio on.

There was still the option that Lacey hired someone to kill Sean. Would their spirit want to remain here to avenge their death?

 "Damn thing went out again," Minzy growls, slamming her hand against the air conditioner. I rub the back of my neck, sweat trickling down my body in a fit of heat overdose.

“Who am I? Hmm.” He was silent for a long time. “I guess you may call me the ghost of Captain McBride.”

I probably just seem like a normal, dumb teenager looking to draw you in with a made up story, just to get a rise. Just to get a few minutes of attention. But my purpose here isn't to make you want to read my story; honestly, I couldn't care less if you stop reading after this point because you think this is all made up stuff. But who the hell would make up something as elaborate as this? Actually, I take that back. A lot of people could fabricate a story like this, probably a better one to be honest. But there's no way I can convince you that I'm telling the truth. I just need to get this story out. So keep reading, or don't. I really don't care.

Anyway, back to Spencer. I was leaning against the wall, and then I someone ran into me. I stumbled and fell sideways, right into Spencer. For a couple seconds I couldn’t figure out what happened. All I knew was my head kinda of hurt and there was beer spilled all over my shirt. Someone held out a hand and pulled me up. That someone was Vivian. At the time, the only thing I knew about Vivian was that she scared the shit out of me. Two years prior to that day, she looked a lot like Alice, actually. Cute blonde hair, bright blue eyes, wore little dresses to school. Then she changed. She died her hair black, got a nose piercing, and I hadn’t seen her in a dress since. I hadn’t even talked to her in several years when she pulled my beer-soaked

The air was cold in the hospital room tickling the back of my throat as I breathed it in.

At the familiar sound of Mary’s voice, Angela slowly cracked one eye open before shooting up in bed. She felt her chest tightening as she realized that she was back in her dorm room. Her light blue comforter had fallen off of the bed as it did every night and her legs were completely tanged in her sheets as if she had been tossing and turning in her sleep.

My body felt limp and useless as his hands traced the outline of my arms, making my skin shiver with delight. His fingers felt delicate against my soft skin, and I soon felt my eyes fluttering close as I let myself relax. There was a first time for everything, wasn't there?

So we walked upstairs to my room. She goes into my closet grabs the clothes she wants, and changes. She walks out with, reapplied black lipstick and thick eyeliner and this time with black eyeshadow too. Her outfit is different. Black leggings, tight black tank, black gloves, her black leather jacket, 4 in. heeled boots, and she doesn’t have her wig on so its her dark red hair. “You look like you’re about to go kill somebody.” “I might be.” She says totally serious. “I hope not.” I say jokingly, even though I’m seriously worried. We walk downstairs. Just as I’m about to open the door. “Alice, hold on a sec.” she tells me. She walks into the kitchen opens the drawer, and grabs the dagger my dad keeps in there and slides it into her boot. She

Charlie woke up eight times during the night. Each in a cold sweat, grabbing fistfulls of blankets and sheets, pulling them to him, he would sit up. He would stare into the dark room and wonder momentarily where he was. What he was doing in someone else's bed. What he was doing in this strange wooden room, with these strange unlit candles, and that strange pale moonglow from the tall window.

That was all Daniel needed to hear. He quickly rushed past to two and into the smoke filled room. His eyes went across the room, hearing a series of coughing.

The party had been deemed, by high school standards, a success. In the back yard, drunken punches were being thrown erratically, goon bags hung from the washing line and girls in tiny dresses hung helplessly to trees as they emptied their stomachs violently onto the ground. Inside, Skrillex blasted obnoxiously from the speakers, making it feel as if the whole of Blackmans Bay shook with the bass. The combination of the smoke machine and rainbow fairy lights created a luminous mist that smelled of alcohol and teenage sweat. Throughout the house hormones raged like demons untethered; a girl sat on the kitchen bench, her legs wrapped promiscuously around the waist of a boy whose hands snaked nervously up her shirt even as she pulled him closer

The dark side of the great empire, New York, is filled with the obscure Mafia . Over the heights, there are city lights so bright, it blinds you to see what's underneath the plastic appearance of New York.