Personal Narrative Fiction

Dalton took the bat and sat down on his uncomfortable, worn out, brown leather couch. He stared blankly at the black television screen waiting, he was waiting for the unknown, he was waiting for the being that was on the other side of the wall. Thoughts floated through his mind all night. “When is he going to come?” “Why didn’t he come yet?” “What happened to Linda?”. When morning finally came he tried to call sick to work but it didn’t ring once and decided to take a look at Linda’s house and when he was leaving his house he noticed something weird. He wasn’t in his apartment building any more.His apartment looked like it had been taken out of the building and put into the field behind where his apartment used to be. Out of nowhere he heard strange noises he looked around and saw nothing, until out of the corner of his eye he saw something, something that didn’t belong and it saw him. He started to run. He saw a patch of trees, he ran towards it. He ran through the trees for an hour, he started hearing cars in the distance so he knew he was close to

Thomas blinked, and the words disappeared. He ran down to the chocked-full sleeping quarters. He had seen that writing before the night his parents had died, and he had thought he was imaging things and forgotten. That night, his parents had died without a scratch; no one could figure out what had happened.

When the Vampires took Tori, I could hardly breathe. We had just found out that she was the Head Wolf, the Leader of all the Werewolves. Kaitlyn was constantly glancing out of the cave, as if waiting for someone. Then it hit me. She was waiting for Brandyn, the Alpha of the pack she’s in. I walked over and stood next to her.

When you moved to Beacon Hills, you immediately discovered to population of dirty dogs. On your first day at your new school, you were constantly cringing at their stench. On your second day, you cornered one of them in the gym.

“I don’t understand why that would make you think he murdered her.” Wanting to laugh. Instead, Wallace asked, “What else did he say?

This is it, my last, and worst fear. All I need to do is get through this, and then I'm Dauntless. I remind myself over and over that I can't be too slow, but at the same time I can't be too fast. Then it happens. I see a shadow peeking around the corner and I gulp, leaning back against the wall. I slouch down and hug my legs, burying my face in my knees. This isn't real, this isn't real. No. I have to hide my Divergence.

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.

When I woke up, Dean's arm was wrapped tightly around me. Dean's breathing was steady, telling me he was asleep. He jerked mindlessly and his breathing sped up rapidly. I could hear his heart pound through his chest and I knew he was having a nightmare. He whispered my name over and over again and his eyes were shut tightly, as if he were in pain.

Marco Diaz, now at the age of 22, walked out of his dojo when it happened.

Jennifer sat in an Adirondack chair the deck of her and Adam’s fifty-two hundred square foot lakefront home. The sun was slowly dipping into the horizon, casting Coventry Lake in the flat light of dusk. Adam walked onto the deck with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Molly, Jake and Ashley slowly walked around the Amazon rainforest, examining the wildlife. They were on a reasearch trip for their college biology class, and their group’s assignment was to take notes on the flora and fauna so they could write papers when they got back to the campus. As they walked, they pointed things out to each other, and Molly wrote all of their observations down into her notebook. They were so intent on their research that none of them noticed the class start moving in the opposite direction. Finally, when the sun started to set, Ashley spoke up.

My breathing stops. My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I take a step up the stairs and align myself to the right of the railing. I pull the knife closer to my chest getting ready to stab the person coming up. I can see the shadow of the person coming up the stairs my body tense, ready to attack. The shadow turns into an outline, then into a man. I count the seconds in my head, closing my eyes, I feel a man's presence. I open my eyes ready to face whatever danger lies until I see a familiar face.

The button had been pushed. The flames reminded me of the warm-colored walls in her house. As I stood behind the glass, feeling that same heat that diffused into her body; I watched her become ashes. As I witnessed my older brother break down, I questioned if I had the strength to face reality. Although I outshine my brothers at being prudent and reliable, I have always found it hard to say that I am the bravest. Normally, I felt inferior to them because they met society's standards of strength, just by being born male. Whenever my brothers said, “you can’t play Yu-Gi-Oh with us” or “you can’t beat me,” I believed that I wasn’t good enough to do “boy things” with them. I started to underestimate myself. Since I had never been to a cremation before, I didn’t know that my fear of needles and bugs were nothing compared to watching a body burn.

During the night in 1940s of New York City; in the mysterious dark streets remained a woman walking in a bright red dress with pastel skin. The streets were extremely empty that you could hear her own footsteps and every time she went under a street lamp that made her glisten with her pale skin. She was unusually scrawny with her collar bones sticking out resembling a skeleton. She looked very lonely by her body language which suggested being alone until this fascinating man walked up to her and persuaded her to seek out some coffee. They find this diner that remained open at this time of day. All the lights were on and the diner had a giant window glass all around, and position strangely. Nearby, sat another gentleman reading the newspaper

He took another moment, then turned away from the window and went out the door. A big skinny greyhound awaited in the sitting room and it bounded about and followed after him, his tail whirling and spinning around this way and that like a helicopter, lashing into and whipping off everything in the room with such energy and enthusiasm that it bowled over most of Mrs Fox’s ornaments; a large vase of flowers rolled and tumbled off the top of a table, small picture frames folded and collapsed on shelves, and some cows and pigs were scattered across a sideboard in all different directions.