Personal Narrative : ' Get Up, Snowflake ! '

Beep! Beep! Beep! I wake up to an alarm screaming in my ear. I smack the alarm to shut the yelling off. It was a January day, in the middle of the cold, brutal winter. I finally got up after sitting in bed for what felt like hours, and looked outside like I do every morning. I noticed that there was no sign of grass to be seen. All that could be seen was white, frozen blanket of thick snow. I started to get ready for the school day and I just prayed that school was going to be canceled. As soon as I was fully ready I stepped outside and my food sunk down a foot and a half below the snow! I could not believe it that school was still open. As soon as I got to my car that was completely covered in snow, my mother comes out and yells that school was closed. I felt a huge wave as release and I ran back inside and went right back to sleep.

On a Tuesday night of my sophomore year, two weeks before the state tournament, we played Heritage Hills. On the mound, battling for every out, I attempted to keep the game tied. The count was two and one with two outs in the bottom of the fourth. I stepped up, wound up, and pitched the ball for the fiftieth time. Except this time the ball came flying right back towards me.

I’ve reaped more lives than I can count, shed blood enough to fill a lake, and not even that can satisfy them– I’m beginning to wonder if anything can. If it’s all a game for them, that we are mere objects of humor, like a good old, action-packed movie they watch now and then.

I lay on my favorite patch at the Arlinston Park, basking in the sunlight. My dagger rests beside me, half sheathed. The war was over, but I kept a weapon on me all the time. I have made many enemies.

You put that blade to proper use, no longer submissive to my abuse. You fight, you claw, you scream and bleed, casting aside all you believed. Your soulless heart burns just like mine, and now I know it's almost time.

I got ready, but the sting never came, I just heard a voice saying, "get up." I looked back at the big white door and a male red Sheraak stood there, stoic.

The war was moving fast and we have to move faster. I ran towards the door, and looked at my sword. When I started to reach for I stopped and grabbed my scythe. When I reached outside there was three men surrounding some women. I yelled to leave her alone and when they turned around they laughed due to the scythe. I yelled again then one man charged at me with a sword slicing through the wind.

There it was, a big grey scorpion hanging on the rope above my son, Coyotito. In my mind a new song had come, the Song of Evil, the music of the enemy, of any foe of the family, a savage, secret, dangerous melody, and underneath, the Song of the Family. My body started to become rigid, I was terrorized by the thought of what could happen if the scorpion fell on Coyotito.

Often the world sees me as a bad thing. As if I am the worst possible thing to happen to someone. Someone Courageous. The opposite of my being. I am the idea, the thing that holds you back.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! My phone alarm went of at 6:00 that morning, it was the middle of February and it was forecasted to snow the whole day. We had already gotten the day off because of the inclement weather before then. Back to the day before, I was staying at my cousin’s house because my mom had to have her eye surgery. It had already sleeted a couple days before and we didn't even get out then. We were watching the news and drinking hot cocoa and coffee.

When you go to failure, you fatigue your body down to the point where it can be a huge stress on the body. When you do this set after set after set, your body begins to get highly over trained. This is no

I looked her right in the eyes and the more I examined, the more I saw. She had the look that veteran warriors always carried, the look that has seen too much. I held back my sharp retort and instead with sorrow said, “We may just be blades, but we have to be to stop them from killing our friends and families. There are more reasons to fight and they might get muddled in the blood, however, that makes them no less valid.”

I am soldier carrying deadly weapons, riffles, guns, and grenades. The simple everyday items like candies, gums, and family in my wallet seems far in the distance. I carry good and bad memories, love, cowardice, fear, and grief. I miss being in love with my wife and child. I dream of a girl that I fell in love with and those tender feelings. I am also obsessed with shooting anyone that is threatening to me. I constantly change

‘Lord Fox!’ yelled a voice. The sound rang through Lord Fox’s head, bouncing and echoing all the way until he snapped back into consciousness.

The cold hunk of metal rests in my hands. My hand on the trigger. Once I had been horrified in the mere image of gun. An object which holds the power to choose whether