Personal Narrative-Home

"A bunch of them were eaten. This is what you get for going outside the walls."

“Yeah, I’ve seen a number of their graves in the cemetery.” I admitted as I looked up at the crow that was now back circling in the sky above us. “I guess a lot of kids have died around here, huh? But, you can’t blame that on a girl who lived close to three hundred years ago. Places got hit by diseases all the time back then, dysentery, cholera, measles, mumps, small pox, bad water, stuff like that. Things back then weren’t like they are today.”

He clambered across the rickety wooden bridge—just rope and rotted boards tacked together and dangling precariously over fire—and started up the steep rock face, finding toeholds in the stones. My eyes followed him, and then I forced my knees and elbows to do the same.

“There are a lot of superstitious people in the states as well,” Sam said slowly. It was a weak excuse and Sam’s distrust of the female hunter increased. She knew something that she wasn’t telling

“Okay, so what exactly are we looking for here?” Finn asked flashing his light across the stage.

“We best be leaving now. Thank you for your time.” I said, getting up and moving toward the front door. Warterhen followed behind me.

“I’m going to break you.” She said. “Every single bone in your body and once you recover, I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Tell me, how does a pathetic, worthless, but yet intelligent person get into this mess and end up here?” Seymour asks, not really expecting an answer, but to dignify his still anger, uses his carved, smooth surface of his wooden baseball bat to strike her left knee, which has fell off for the fifth time now, since she awoken in the mysterious room. She was tired, hungry, thirsty, homesick, and yet so furious the adrenaline pumped bitter life into her and she sat, ropes to her chest, arms, and legs, thinking about life before this moment. “She gets the million dollar questions correct, but only by taking wild guesses,” she manages to say, hoping this sacred fuel will last forever. Before taking another swing at her leg, he chuckles, and then

“What? That N person?” he asked and you nodded. “Probably nothing, a figure of speech. I wouldn't put much stock in it.”

Inside the ambulance, Roy was relieved to find John’s vitals were unchanged when he rechecked them. Although he had hoped they would improve with the IV, at least they weren't getting much worse.

"More than anything, I just want you to know that there is more than one person you can lean on. You may have someone up their who you are relying on, but you have two incrediably strong sons who would never wish to see their mother in pain like this. Whatever the outcome we finally get your boys will be strong for you and in return I'm sure you will be strong for them."[/b]

He squinted down the right path, going forward meant he'd face another laser blocker, and for some reason, the path going up was too dark to see past. "Which way should I…"

"You can't keep holding on to stuff like this, James." Natasha sighed, slipping a delicate hand through her hair. "It's not healthy."

A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees (Charters, Introduction 74).

He turned at once, slipped into his chair and reached above his head to gather the headset from its rack. It fit snugly over his ears, and he arranged the mic boom so he could talk.