Personal Narrative-Hanna

Mark Depsey III is the president of the country club social committee, making him and his wife ranked at the top of the socialite hierarchy.

Amy sits in the driver's seat of the car. According to her father two o'clock on a Sunday is the best time to drive. It's 'too late for brunch and too early for barbeques'. Her hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

I want to go to the motion pictures Cameron said however there is no good thing appearing at all I

She was always there, for as long as I could remember. Never was there a day that I wouldn’t help her cook. Be it simply mixing up dough I always helped. Every time I walked into the house, a new aroma filled my lungs. I called her Mamaya and though the origin of her nickname was never clear, everyone referred to her as that. She was my favorite abuela.

Juxtaposed with elegant red nail nails, my mother’s calloused hands displayed her willingness to provide for her family. Whether she needed to carry the weight of a fifty pound car battery or flip burgers at a gas station to make it, her hands quickly spent the money earned on my brother and me. These hands also held the power to prepare a five-star dinner, clean the kitchen, and soothe my greatest of woes, all before nine o’clock. Two years later, it was these hands that caused my woes.

The days leading up to the fifth of August had been characteristically Irish, complete with clouds in Connemara, a daylong drizzle in Dingle, and forty-mile-per-hour winds at the Cliffs of Moher (which, under said conditions, were more deserving of their Princess Bride alias, the Cliffs of Insanity). In Ireland, the island nation that gifts its western seaboard with 225 days of rain each year, fickle weather is a fact of life. But now, for eight hours, my family needed the Wild Atlantic Way to tame itself—perhaps, for just one day, the Mild Atlantic Way could suffice?

Staggering from the blow, he swung his staff rapidly in quick defensive movements as he struggled to regain his balance. Seeing his opponent hopping backwards to avoid his wild swings he took a deep breath to steady himself. That breath made him wince as pain lanced through his side, a sure sign that the last strike had penetrated his screen.

“I'm fine here,” she answers, her brown hair shining red in the sunlight, as she places both hands on her hips. She raises a questioning towards me as I continue to stretch.

My arms shook as they caved under the heavy box I carried. I felt sweat streaming down my face, my hair stuck to my skin in clumps. Moving is never fun. Especially when you move to the tenth floor of a building that has no elevator.

One day three kittens were born the first one was Alex then Melissa then Letty. Alex was 14 Melissa was 12 and Letty was 6. Alex fur color was black and Melissa color was light brown and Letty's fur was white. Our mom died when Alex was 7 it was a hard time for Alex. I was born from a different mother. Our dad left us in a box on the street, Alex could've left us but he did not do it he loved us too much. we had fun adventures and we explored almost the world but we stayed in washington it was a dream for a cat.We stayed at a farm in the chicken's coop

"RUN" the man yells as he fires two more shots towards the door and takes a hold of my wrist. Dragging me through the endless corridors of the compound.

He was speechless, completely stunned by the words spewing from my mouth. “No offense, but you’re sounding like a true queer. Trade spots with me then, my dude. I’ll happily let Mrs. Sorun look whenever, touch wherever, and do whatever she wants as long as I continue to have the honor of getting to bathe in her presence.”

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a maid of honor in a wedding, that was very important to you? Well I figured that out just about a year ago, while being in my dad and stepmom, Christi’s wedding.

Yesterday, I bought myself a mattress. It was the first time in about 3 months that I got to lay on an actual bed. I was finally able to sleep throughout the whole night without having to get up every two hours to pump the small inflatable bed, which, by the way, my cat popped. Even with pumping it, the bed quickly deflated and I’d wake up basically on the floor. I never thought I’d be so grateful over a bed. Something that at some point, I found to be some of the “little things” in my life that I honesty never even thought I would be without.

He laid glued to the cobbled pavement as the droning traffic buzzed and staggered in front of him. Unblinking, unmoving, his gaze transfixed to the brick-shaped crevices on the ground. He was walled in an orb of fear, a cascading mass of turmoil etched in the furrowed creases of his brow and forehead. His hands reached out to the cool of his stethoscope. Grasping it firmly in hands, he veiled it away, into his crimson coat.