Personal Narrative-Home

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

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.

Natasha Romanoff smirks as she watches a wayward demi-god grimace at the sealed package of cup-a-noodles in his hand. He leans a hip against the island counter, habitually feigning nonchalance. However, as an astute student of body language she can read the subtle tension in musculature of his face. She pauses for only an instant at the entryway to observe him, confirming for herself again, that he actually is trying fit in here. She would never presume to mention it to Director Fury, not without a direct inquiry from him, but she had had her own concerns when S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed to take Loki on as part of some sort of Asgardian rehabilitation program. Now she’s less certain of her opinion. Not wanting to be noticed spying, she breezes into the common area and crosses to the refrigerator, perusing the offerings briefly before grabbing a bottled smoothie. She can feel

Xavier was beginning to have a light problem with involuntarily being knocked out or foreced to sleep. Again. He was honestly surprised no one in the house coined him Sleeping Brutee. Okay, maybe it was lame but his head really fucking hurt. His slowly dragged his hand and placed it on his forehead, dragging his arm indeed was a challenge. It was like he was carrying his own dead weight around...in his dense state.

Bennett Miller was not calm.  He was, in fact, further from calm than he had been since he grew out of his tantrum-throwing phase as a toddler, and it was the most he could do to stop the sobs from escaping his throat; he could feel the tears silently streaming down his cheeks.  He furiously wiped the tears away and straightened his blue bowtie, but wished he had chosen clothes that were less conspicuous.  He didn’t want to be noticed today.  For the first time in months he regretted coming out of the closet.

“Cindy, what makes you special is you. As you can finally guess, Vernon does background investigations on every applicate to work on this level and may have personal access to me. You are the only person within my entire conglomerate who had disclosed your entire life and even a few things that Vernon didn’t know. You may not think belong here, but I know you do. Just do me one small favor.”

The rest of the ride was smooth and silent, at least on the outside; inside of me I felt like a soda bottle someone had shaken up long enough till it was about to explode. All the resentment I had felt for Patty had came up again on the one hour drive. I couldn’t believe her! She should’ve told me it was a dine and dash. Here I was, driving around, sticking my neck out so she can have her night of fun, and she doesn’t even bother to tell me what we’re doing.

In the second grade I experienced my first nose bleed. It was quite traumatizing; I can distinctly recall the sudden sensation of warm blood wetting my lips and trickling down my throat. All of this was made worse by the fact that I met such a fate not by my own carelessness, but at the hands of another; a little boy named Alex, who pushed me down in a game of tag. Of course, I cried, and once Alex realized the harm he’d caused, he cried too; although I’m sure a fraction of him did feel sorry for the harm he’d inflicted, I think an even bigger fraction was terrified at the idea of being reprimanded. And though his utterances of “I’m sorry” were likely not without some sincerity, in that moment, I was so furious that I didn’t care. I promptly

“Denver, Denver, Denver! Look at me! Look at me!” A voice was coming from across the yard. I was on the porch in a comfy sunbeam minding my own business. I found a stick and was trying to chew on it before Lady saw it and took it away. She had gone into the house to get something so I didn’t know how much time I had. I knew better than to look up cuz whenever I hear that squeaky voice it means I'm probably going to get teased. But I couldn't help myself.

My trembling hands grace the alien piano keys, and I feel their coolness melt into my fingertips. Slowly, I feel myself playing my warm-up scale and listen as the gentle pressing of the keys emits clear tones that cut through the silence of the performance room. My hands, which seem now to have a mind of their own, descend the scale,and I sense my racing heart calm. I’ve played this song over and over again for months. . . I can do this. My lungs fill up with the air of a deep breath and I place both hands on my lap, patiently waiting for the judge’s voice to instruct me to begin.

Abbey Bominable rubbed her eyes, stretching as the warm sunlight washed over her through the apartment window. As she brushed some wisps of hair from her face, she noticed Heath whispering something very quietly. Brow furrowing, she sat up, seeing that Heath had brought their baby boy into bed with them. Heath was trying to get Icer to smile, something the little baby had recently started doing. However, Icer just stared at his father curiously and tried to stick his fingers into his mouth. Abbey smiled, stroking Icer's head lovingly.

Edward stood up from the table, walked a few paces towards the exit and placed a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. He turned and stared at the men and women seated in front of him.

The cool, crisp, night air trickles down the back of my throat. As I hide under the small pillow and plump acacia bush, hoping to go unseen. I’m feeling all too confident. Looking through the leaves, I relive the night my hiding skill set was put to the ultimate test. Three, two, one ready or not here I come ….

Thanks for being an awesome editor! It's pretty great that I can just send you stuff like this.

I sat in my room for the rest of the day, I really don’t want to go. I do feel bad for not giving my mom peace of mind but I should have an opinion too.