Personal Narrative-Just Leave Everything To Me

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

The sparks fly in the air, there are marshmallows in your hair, and you’re with your favorite people in the world. This is called the best place on earth, for me at least. I enjoy camping so very much, you meet new people, experience different things, make new memories, and have a blast. You also see new sights, smell some things, and always wake up to the birds singing and not the bustling streets of the city. Camping is my go to activity.

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

She carries symbolic bracelets and tangled up headphones and torn playbills. She carries crumpled sheet music, a highlighted play script, a rusty gun and holster, an old calculator, worn out journals for writing fragmented lyrics, passionate feelings, unforgotten memories, and so much more. Twice or three times a week she carries packets of law and a lunch that was packed that morning. She carries a water bottle that is always half empty, or much like herself, half full, depending on how you see it. Wyatt carries the priceless shark tooth necklace she gave him, locked away somewhere unknown. Hannah carries the cheap but meaningful books that she gave her, unread but still valued. Her mother carries the candy she gave her, hard but sweet, a reflection of her soul. Something they all carried in common, was that they all carried something that was given; taking turns, they carried pieces of her shattered heart.

Sitting in the front seat of my bass boat casting a spinnerbait, the weather was perfect. It was about 55 degrees and sunny. After reeling in about a three-pound bass, I thought I would be ecstatic, but I wasn’t. Something just didn’t feel right, kind of like when you’re about to do something very scary and your stomach turns in nervousness. I drove back to the cabin/house and went upstairs. I knew that whatever was about to happen would permanently change my life forever.

I headed out first,swimming my way back onto land,I screamed as I felt myself get scooped out of the sea by some men and women,scared that the man in the blue car had returned. But these men and women were dressed in hazmat suits but without their helmets on. They looked over me as if they were scientists,asking me and each other several questions. I couldn't muster out any words, I was terrified, I wanted Craig to help me but I was terrified of what they would do to him. This part of the dream is very spacey and is chopped up. I hardly remember most of it. From what I can remember after they’ve finished me out of the water. They place me in this building, this building filled with children. They all looked genetically modified or something,

“We don’t have anytime time to waste today guys, get moving!” my mom announced. My brother was coming today and she wanted the house to be spotless. We had just started fall break and I was in the fourth grade. I was playing games and relaxing like any 10 year old would do. My dad was lounging on the couch watching some show, and my siblings were running around. By then I had only 5 siblings, 2 sisters and 3 brothers. We had known for a while that Johnny, age 9 at the time, was coming to live with us, what we didn’t know was that he would bring with him a fish. I was happier than a child opening presents on Christmas. The fish was a beautiful white male betta with long flowing fins. He lived in a small 1 gallon tank with blue pebbles, pointy

I do not belong to an American lineage. I originate from the beautiful country of Nigeria, in West Africa. My grandfather once told me a special enlightening statement that I will never overlook. “Life without knowledge of one’s roots is useless. Once you truly begin to learn and experience your roots, your perception of life fluctuates.” Nigeria is the home of over 500 languages. My grandfather can speak and comprehend English, French and my tribal language Yoruba. 10 years ago, my family held a reunion in Nigeria. Every individual family member there communicated by speaking in French and Yoruba, however, I stood there bewildered.

Everyone remembers a time in their lives when their mom came through and saved the day. Mine happened to happen at 1:30 AM on a Saturday morning. To fully understand the story I’ll give some background.

From a very young age I was brought up around religion. I would go to Sunday school every day, church camps and I also never attended a public school, all private religious school. But I began to become confused very quickly as the actions of my parents began to prove otherwise.

October 16th, 2013: As the lights glistened through the faint darkness that was beginning to spread all around us, a cool breeze flowed through the metal bars and splashed against my sweaty face. I was sprinting, running faster than I ever had before. Clusters of bodies surrounded me as a tried to maneuver my way through the world's hardest obstacle course as I settled down to make a final leap of faith. I was fourteen years old, and at this moment I didn’t know that what was about to happen would alter my life forever.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

How I miss our old days it crazy how time can fly by so fast in front of our eyes. I wouldn’t be able to explain in much words how I feel, how much I miss you guys and how I wish to go back home.

As I start to get ready for work shivers of icy cold wind bristles through my scraggly hair, with a comb I brush out the loose knots from my unkempt hair and tie it into a luscious scalp peeling bun. I tuck my snowy wrinkled blouse into my lengthy jet black skirt and throw on a long, toasty jacket with rosy red heels to match.