Personal Narrative: My Prey Project

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

It was record breaking temperatures on this July 4th day. Red, white, and blue filling up the stands. Fans and umbrellas protecting spectators from the heat of the sun. It was about game time and I was getting ready to take the field for the last home game. Butterflies in my stomach, but I had to tell myself “it’s just another game”. Even though in my heart I knew it was not just another game.

Baghdad, Iraq is where I was born and raised; I lived there for about 6 years during the most pivotal years of the war. My dad left when I was about 7 months. He went to Lebanon to live for a few years before settling in the United States. My mom took care of me and my siblings. War was going on in Iraq; people walked with a dying heart. Iraq was split into Shiite, Sunni, and Christianity. Sunni and Shiite do not have any issues with one another, but there are people who do not like the Shiites and caused civil strife between the two divisions of Islam. My family is Shiite and we do not believe in a separation between anyone because we are one, they are

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

It was a normal chilly sunday on September 13th, 2015. My dad was in the garage with some of his friends watching the football game. It was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. My dad and his friends were making hot dogs and burgers on the grill but I don’t like those so I asked my dad if I could go to the store and get the ingredients to make taco dip. He handed me $20 and I headed off to the store with one of my dad’s friend’s son. The store was at the end of my street so it wasn’t a far walk.

My life began in Manhattan, New York in January of the year 1977. I was born to a 21 year old Irish American mother, Catherine Cunningham, and a 60 year old Sicilian American father, Anthony Perniciaro. My parents came from very different backgrounds. My mother’s family was relatively wealthy and affluent. My father was born and raised in Brooklyn. His parents were extremely poor immigrants that were seriously affected by the Great Depression. My father was a bricklayer and an artist when he met my mother, who was just starting her life, being only a few years out of high school.

At two in the morning seven years ago, my nine year old self was jolted awake by my mother. Begrudgingly, I peeled my eyes opened and tried to blink the sleep away.

It was 2:00 AM and I was working 3rd shift that night, it was lonely and dark. I was the only one here. As I sat in silence the phone rang I picked it up not expecting anyone to be calling because I haven’t had a call in years. When I picked up the phone all I hear is a deep soft whispering, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every second the whispering got louder and louder until there was a high pitch screaming. I slammed the phone down on the receiver with a rush of adrenaline. My heart was pounding so fast it felt like it was going to burst, (the reader takes a deep breath to build suspense) agin I sit in silence, waiting for something to happen. I was so paranoid I didn’t know what to do, my mind was racing, do I leave or do I

In one of my recent fellowship group meetings, we were studying Acts 16, and it was pointed out that Paul and Timothy kept going back to places, regardless of the rejection they often received. Their tireless efforts paid off handsomely, rewarding them with the salvation of many souls, for which they always gave thanks to God.

“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

The second I walked into middle school, I knew what I wanted to do, and how I intended to do it. Growing up, I was always taught to value education since nobody in my family had gone to college. Questions about college were frequently met with blank stares and dismissive shrugs. It was regarded as unchartered territory, and I planned to conquer it. My earliest memory of my grandmother was when I was 8 years old. Yearning for something to do, I resolved to learn Farsi, and began nagging my grandmother to teach me it. However, growing up in Iran, she never learnt how to read or write, and so she couldn't write my name, or even teach me the alphabet. My 8-year-old mind couldn't grasp the idea that my grandmother was illiterate. I went to school every day, learned how to write

My Signature Themes are achiever, arranger, responsibility, input, and significance. Each of these are very significant in defining my strengths and showing me how to best use my strengths in my future. My first strength was achiever and this is representing me as a whole, and is what I use in everyday life. I am a driven person who wants to accomplish many things and I visualize my life as a mountain that I will overcome every day and at the end of every day I will have a beautiful view of what I have accomplished. I use every day in events such as: relentless volunteering, working long hours and everything is done with an impeccable sense of satisfaction after completion. My second and third strengths are arranger and responsibility. These

My pursuit of Kelly began almost a year before we met. I was at one of my best friends Ryan's house and I noticed Kelly's picture was on their wall. Immediately I asked Ryan's girfirend, Rugila aka Roo, every question she would tolerate to answer.

My family has always taught me to be independent and stand on my own. Being a truck driver, my dad was always a loner. He liked being to himself on the open road. I remember the trips we used to go on together and how much fun it was being on the road. However, my mom didn’t like these long extended trips. She set off to be independent, and advised me to never depend on anybody for satisfaction. She always told me that I only needed to God to be fulfilled. My parents eventually grew apart, and left me with the understanding that I don’t need anyone else.

Hiro didn't attend school that day, emotionally and physically drained by the past few hours. The pattern repeated the in the two following days until the week had come to a close. One day of wallowing in grief was turning into a weekend affair. This was the kind of anniversary no one wanted to remember, but the squeezing pain of loss made itself known regardless.