Personal Narrative: Left Lane

When you parents tell you not to do something do you just do it anyways. Well I do and this time I think I learnt my lesson. It all started on a normal Saturday and we were gonna go on a hike, but none of us wanted to go somewhere so we just did it at home. We got our bags and water ready and busted for the trail. I thought it was gonna be a normal day and we would all have fun, but I got proved wrong. The trail itself is about three miles and a couple of extra steps,but with the surprise we only walked a mile of it.

It was just the beginning of February. The winter cold, brutal, and yet normal for the people living in Michigan. My best friend Brian, his uncle Craig, and I were driving back together from Craig’s up north cottage. Brian and I were riding passenger with Craig in his Chevy Silverado pick-up. We were coming back from the annual Perchville Polar Bear Plunge that took place in Tawas, Michigan. A lot was on my mind since it was the second semester of my senior year, and graduation was right around the corner. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or where my future would take me.

It’s Monday, March 15 1943. Each day just gets harder, more people start getting sent to execution camps or how my parents tell my little brother, “a place that needs more workers.” I’m scared for the day it’s my parents getting called to leave, or my little bother, Ash. I know things will start to become stricter due to the Resistance fighters, me being one of them, which have been trying to get through the Muranowska Pokorna Wall. The number of German soldiers to barricade walls has increased. With the hundreds of us that attempted to escape through the wall, I was lucky I wasn’t killed and was able to get away without the Germans knowing I was part of the resistance. I know my family couldn’t handle losing me now. Both my parents are weak and they know that there time to be sent to the concentration camps is coming soon. I just hope it’s me who leaves before them. I don’t think I could take care of ash on my own. I don’t think I could make the situation we’re in seem any better than how it really is. He’s seven years old, but he’s had to grow up a lot faster than most seven year olds his age, everybody in Warsaw has. Tonight was the last night I will be staying in Warsaw, or at least that is what I am hoping for. It took a lot for my family to understand my decision to be part of the resistance. But they respect my choice now. I know it is selfish, and I know it won’t be easy. But I can’t hide anymore, I can’t wait around to be killed. I want to fight back even if it means maybe leaving behind the thing I love most in the world. The fights are

If I were to be able to take, one book, one food item, and one famous person, dead or alive, with me on a deserted island; I would take Where The Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein, a GIANT bag of broccoli, and Ben Domian, an Air Force Reserve Survivalist. I would guess that this deserted Island would have trees with fruit in them or coconut trees. I would also assume that the person I had chosen to bring with me, they would have the same three options, except they would have to choose me to go with them since they were already chosen. That being said, they would be able to bring food as well to sustain themselves and a book for entertainment. If we were to combine our resources, we would be able to survive until help comes. Compiling our resources could also mean that when we finish our book we could switch and read each other's books.

When you crash into a truck and your car flips over four times, usually you die. In my case I’m just in a coma, lying in a hospital bed. There are two problems with this. For starters, I’ve been in this coma since 2008 and it’s nearly 2016. The doctors say that pretty soon they’ll have to pull the plug on me because I’m not showing any signs of waking up any time soon. Apparently, I’m taking up a bed that could be used for some other sick kid. The second problem is that I’m not just lying half-conscious, but I’m in another world. This may sound crazy, but it’s true. When you become comatose your brain pulls a few strings and sends you to a lovely place called The Inbetween. The Inbetween is filled with people who are in situations similar to mine, but how they ended up like this could be different. The world is peaceful and everything until you realize the downside. When you wake up in the strange world, the first thing you notice is the bright blue tattoo embed onto your forearm. Every person here has a different one, and you can not leave until you find your match. This process could, unfortunately, take days, weeks, or even years. Sadly if your match dies before they can even get here, then you pass away as well. I have been stuck here for almost eight years and I’ve had no luck with finding my match. I wander around all day, greeting new people and asking them to have a peek at their ink and no one has

The decisions we make and the actions we take have voiced our characters for us, and our spoken words have exposed our perceptions. At one point or another in everybody’s life, one will strive to become someone, to make something of him or herself. One is limitless in what one can evolve into, but how to get there is another matter. The destination is just that: a destination. There is no significance to a station if there is no link to it. Therefore, the result is no result if there is no way to reach it, and so Willa Cather had once said, “The end is nothing; the road is all.” And I am inclined to concur with this writer.

There I am standing alone at the top of Mount Everest. I have everything I need to go back to the bottom. I don’t use any of it. I am a soldier, and my mission is not complete. Alone, I am still not afraid. Temperature is 28 degrees, but I am not letting it affect my skills. I walk alone through the dark, eerie woods. It has been 32 hours, and I have still not completed my objective. I was sent to assassinate the leader of an military trained group. The group was out here training to intercept signal for a helicopter transporting cargo to an unknown military base in the valley of the mountain Everest. I have intercepted their signal and found out where exactly they were located. I found them, and it wasn’t an easy mission. Many

“Who thought the baptism water would be as cold as an ice bath?” Much like anyone growing up in Las Vegas, or otherwise known as “Sin City,” we have always been surrounded by people from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Those people are commonly known as “Mormons.” Boy, let me tell you, there are Mormons everywhere in Vegas! There was always something about them that made me interested. There was a light as bright as the sun that always shined from them. They always had a smile on their face, from ear to ear and once you start talking to them I found that they are the nicest people. I then got to know and started hanging out with the Mormons. I then became interested with the religion aspect.

I had been driving for two hours, but I didn’t care. Beams of sunlight glimmered through the gaps between buildings, and the cityscape was alive with light. It was a good day for diving, and I was a good driver. It was a perfect combination and I couldn’t help but smile. Mom undid the windows and her smile matched mine as her long grey hair danced in the rushing air. “Enjoying it, Mom?” I asked, waking her from a trance. “Yes, Robert” she replied, her voice cooler than the morning. The engine purred smoothly as I navigated the car gently through the turnpikes sharp curve. Ahead, a large truck spouted black stacks of exhaust high into the air, leaving a path clear of traffic in its wake. Behind it, a lone blue convertible cruzed comfortably, taking advantage of the now open road. Despite being a couple of

Life is like a cross road, you can take different paths. Just like freshmen year when i had to either get passing grades to play football or not be eligible to play for bad grades.

It was the first time I was going to drive. My dad stopped on the gravel and said,”Drive to the house.” I hopped into the driver's seat and tried moving the gear shift. “Um, dad it's not moving,” I said. He responded with,”Son you have to put your foot on the break to move the gear shift.” I set my foot on the break the threw the gear shift into drive. I stepped on the gas pedal and the car took off. The whole way to the house it was like a stop and go sort of thing. I was really scared to hit the gas pedal because I was afraid it was going to go way too fast. Also, The car was so touchy! Every time I would give it a little gas the car would rev up its engine. As the car went down the hill I had my foot on break the whole time. Every time I

It was a warm summer night about two years ago, the sun was just starting to set and the darkness, would soon consume any light that was left. I had just taken my drivers test to receive my permit the month before, and this was my first experience driving at night, and that’s when things started to take a turn for the worse.

Imagine always having to move every other year. For some people that are outgoing, it would be fun people they get to meet a lot of new people. For people like me, the quiet ones, it's a different story. I’m more of a quiet person and I feel that it's because I've never really talked to people because I’ve moved so much.

the road was completely straight. the road had been completely straight for what seemed like years. there were no buildings, no houses, no trees or lakes. the grey line kept leaking into the horizon with no other cars in sight. how long she had been driving, or how much farther she was going, she couldn’t remember. She knew at one point, but the memory had faded.

“Race you to the other side”, Alden dared me. I was the brave one to jump into the chilly water but he was the former swim team member. Much to my frustration, the odds were in his favor.