Personal Narrative Fiction

Lydia awoke in an unfamiliar place. She touched her head but immediately pulled it away when she felt the soft texture of bandages on her forehead. She shivered as a small draft passed over her skin. She looked down and noticed... She was wearing barely anything. She panicked, scrambling to wrap the blanket around her body.

When she awoke the skies were gray and gloomy, the air suddenly was cold and felt as though it could cut like a knife. Something felt out of place, but Lori could not put her finger on it. Her feet hit the floor, and began looking around only to see that she is all alone.The place that once was warm and welcoming now is all but that. The frail girl screams loudly, when there is no reply, she knew something must be terribly wrong.

Absorbing the information, Casey felt it didn’t quite fit. “I thought everyone suspected Thomas was the unknown victim on the landing.”

"What's happening?" she asked, but this time her words were heavy, and became intense. I stood up for a moment, meeting her eyes with mine. I let out a sigh as I glided down the wall and sat down. "Nothing," I whispered. "Go back to sleep while you can." I could see her tremble as she pulled the rotten cloth over her head and turn to her side, ignoring the stench and forcing herself to fall asleep.

"What does this friend of yours look like?" asked Judy, taking notes the entire time

Estelle Wilson awakens just moments before the soft hue of dawn breaks outside her bedroom window. Her mouth taste of copper, her heart pounding into her ribs. The pain in her temples throbs along to the beat of her erratic heart. Trembling hands move to smooth the damp strands of brown hair away from her face. She stumbles from the tangled mass of sheets towards the open window. Pale fingers cling to the window frame as she gulps in fresh air. Breathing deeply, she tries to dismiss the feeling of distress bubbling up in her chest.

My past effects the future, the future is a result of my past, I begin to become the things I hate, but I might realize it all to late. "I'm...sorry." I say, as I stare at the ceiling of my room. I begin to slowly turn my head to face Aundre, whose sitting across the room on a small white sofa. I'm sprawled out on my bed, feeling so weightless...and careless.

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

“Two things before we go any further: the fucks a plain of existence, and exactly how do YOU handle souls?” She stood up and started to walk to the middle of the street. “I really don’t feel like just explaining it to you so I’ll just show you.” When she arrived at the middle of the street, she stopped and turned to me. After a few seconds she put her right hand on her hip and in a sassy manner she said,” I can’t show you something that you can’t see, so get the fuck over here.” So I steadily pushed myself up with the help of the light pole I was against. When I was almost up, Torva gave out a bored sigh and snapped her fingers. I was then teleported right next to her, but I hadn’t let go of the light pole so I fell straight on my ass. Torva

“I hate to change the subject so suddenly, but there’s a tall, good looking guy pacing up and down right under our window, and Musa?” Stella said, giving her friend a cheeky smile, pointing a slender finger to the ground. “I think he wants to see you.”

Nell passed out trays to the customers, just like she usually did, but this time, it was quietly and sadly, not like her usual self. Even though the coffeehouse the packed full with men, the whole place was filled with sadness and despair. “Poor Mattie, why did she have to go?” cried Nathaniel, leaning over the ornate coffin.

Stomping up the stairs Nia yells, “ You’re not the boss of me!” And slams her bedroom door shut. Heavily breathing Nia grasped for air. Trying to control her breathing, she places her hand on her chest. Tears ride down her face quickly like a river flow. Not knowing how to stop Nia constantly wipes her face.

After several rings, the phone is answered in the master suite of Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm DeWitt.

“I don’t normally stress this way, but this — ” she paused, her hands circling around

Rae could sense something was off. Rae opened one eye and grumbled. “Don’t you ever sleep?” His reply was soft, gentle, and simple yet she could hear the worry in his voice “No, never.” Then she remembered hearing that the Servant never sleeps. Rae sat up rubbing her eyes then patted the bed next to her. “Come here and sit. Tell me what’s wrong? I can feel an unease coming from you.”