Personal Narrative Fiction

Jack and Alex darted out of the haunted house. Alex was frightened if mom was still there. Jack exclaimed Alex “I don’t remember where we came in.” Alex tried to think back from when they came in. It hit Alex like a struck of lightning. Alex told Jack that he remembered. So Jack and Alex started to leave the haunted house. Jack said “boom,” there is the exit. Once they got in the car they told her mom about everything that happened. Their mom said they smelled like a dead fish. They started to drive back to there house when it was the end of Halloween

The knife comes full force and misses the ghost get mad and tries again Luke says

“You stabbed yourself?” Jonathan asked. Sock had already pridefully shown him his gaping, endlessly bleeding stab wound he had received. He had also explained exactly how he had obtained it, but hadn’t ever told him why, exactly, he had decided to take his life.

“I wasn't going to let you die. For God's sake it was paint, that's no reason to kill yourself.” If he had any idea he wouldn't say that. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital.”

My parent later in life told me I would always try to stick my fingers through the chicken wire to pet the chickens. The chickens probably would have taught my little chubby fingers as worms, and probably would have pecked at them. This was probably why it was dangerous for me to stick my fingers in the chicken wire. Also, they said whenever a chicken would come towards my fingers, I would shriek and laugh and that normally scared the chickens away. Now, thinking about this. I never did get to pet the chickens, but I did get to feed them watermelon. This I do remember. It was an afternoon right before the sunset. My dad had just cut up a watermelon for us kids. That's when he realized that the watermelon wasn't any good to eat. Instead, he gathered us little kids up, my 2 sisters and I, and took us outside to feed the chickens this bad watermelon. It was chilly. This had to be around October because of the early darkest and chilly afternoons. Thank goodness I had my coat on. It was purple, my sisters were pink and black.

“You’re a nut” said William. “I’m gonna call the cops. I suggest that you go away. Quickly.”

Karen landed on the small cliff side of the fowl nestling grounds. She shook out her wings, careful not to disturb any flying creature in her near vicinity, and tucked them into the square of her back for them to rest. She was mostly accustomed to flying or gliding around in the sky but to keep up her cover she always walked like a normal plebeian.

His eyes opened wide, and he yelled, “Drop this! You can't stop this. It's going to happen.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he left. I bitterly kicked the ground and tried to think why he was stopping me.

My whole body felt heavy, like I was made of concrete. A dull pain throbbed through my head, I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn’t move; my body wasn’t listening to the commands my brain was sending it.

It was 2025, and Jamal Smith was wandering around bored in his house. It was summer and Jamal was exploring depths of his home that he had never seen before. His family was rich. Not doubt about it. His dad was a surgeon and his mom was a lawyer. Last year his family moved to Miami and then applied built a large addition to their house. But something was weird about it. The new addition to the house was dark, long and very scary to a thirteen-year-old like Jamal. When he was sleeping he always seemed to hear stuff from down there.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

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

In the soft glow of the coming morning light he looked ethereal. It took everything she had not to reach over and touch his face, but she didn’t want to disturb him. Soon enough the alarm clock would do that. Minutes was all she had. It was all she needed to make her way into the kitchen and start the coffee.

Then eases up and say’s “ok”. The next day rolls around and we all meet up at five just to hang out before the haunted house.

“It seems as if it was caused by someone staying in the house. Was someone supposed to be in here? It looks abandoned...” one of them said.