Personal Narrative: Mykie Nanako

Imagine taking one step into a chlorine-filled arena. The humid air rushes onto your skin. An immense smile spreads across your face. This is because you know everything is about to change. In less than 24 hours you will be holding a glistening gold medal in your hand, standing up on the podium while the Star Spangled Banner blares for the whole world to hear and tears will stream down your face. Taking one look back at your coach, Teri McKeever, you realize if it wasn’t for her you would not be here. Graciously, you run up, swing your arms around her body, and embrace her in a powerful hug that says it all. Swimming is a very intense sport and consumes every second of a swimmer’s free time. However, putting in hundreds

The unseen shark thrashes her around in the water, and she eventually clings onto a buoy, making its bell ring, in a vain attempt to alert the nearby community. After a final grasp for breath, she finally disappears under the surface of the water leaving the viewers with the burden of her death.

Residents of Bent Tree are surrounded by natural beauty. Gentle breezes, whispering trees, and the soft movement of the pool’s water add to the ambiance.

The reflection of the shimmery water shining against the blurry background faces of the community’s people. They huddled around the scene like penguins wanting warmth from each other. They cling together like glue between a kindergarteners fingers, completely mesmerised by what lay floating in silence in the glistening water.

One day after having swimming in such terrible weather and being brought inside to dry off and warm up, Mrs. Milligan had said something to Lynne, that had truly motivated her to do something great. Mrs. Milligan had told Lynne that; “Someday, Lynne, you’re going to swim across the English Channel.” As soon as she had said that, Lynne truly believed that she could do that. At the age of 9 Lynne knew a goal she was to set up to accomplish one

After the attack, she was nervous about getting into the water but was not going to allow it to suck the joy out of the sport. She was courageous and was ready to get back into the water. She trained herself to use one arm, to pull herself up on the surf board so she could surf again at the competition. The biggest thing was for her to learn how to pull herself up. She made an announcement that she wanted to be back on a surf board by Thanksgiving Day.

I listened to her shout orders to her maids and the panicked pitter patter that followed. As I was left alone in the warm tub, I leaned back and lowered myself until the water was just below my nose. My eyes fluttered to a close as I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. This was a piece of heaven, never would I have imagined

He then described how he jumped up on the railing of the boat to get a better view. Bumping his pipe on a rope, it toppled overboard. He frantically reached for it, overextending and toppling overboard. Remembering the shots had come from the right Rainsford bravely swam in that direction coming to an

As if it were an instinct, my body launched itself into the freezing cold water. I snapped my arms quickly, like my coach had told me, swimming the stroke of butterfly. However, half way through the lap, my arms drew weary and began to drag slightly.

She stares at herself in the mirror, examining every self inflicted scar from picking scabs. Her skin tone is grey and dull. Her hair has gotten oily and unkempt. She stopped caring about her looks and was not aware of it. There are age spots on her face that seem to have appeared over night. She touches her face and strokes the bags under her eyes with her finger tips. She looks now at what used to be a beautiful smile and cannot believe that her teeth have decayed, they are almost gone. It saddens her and she looks away. She feels ashamed of what she has become. She looks back at the mirror only to be looking into her eyes. With a hoarse voice she utters the words, “How did this happen?”

I stay low and in the shadows weaving my way to the huge Victorian. Alessandra’s struggling to pull herself through the narrow window when I slide against the foundation and grab hold of her arms to haul her

She stands, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She’s drowning so far under, the ocean drips from her eyes. She’s screaming, but staying as silent as the shadows in hopes to avoid brutal words. Analyzing her options, she walks away from the edge: she keeps trying as she whispers to herself: one more day.

I opened my eyes at the bottom of the deep end and saw water swirling around me. “How in the world will I ever reach the top?” I thought. I repeated Emily’s words in my head, “You can do this, Clover, You can do this Clover, You can do this, Clover!” I did what years of swim teaching at Daland had taught me. I pushed the bottom of my feet against the bottom of the water.

The way his legs hung down toward the water was the epitome of how he was feeling in that moment. A microsecond from falling, every part of his body pulsing with fear and adrenaline. Knowing he would die if he didn’t pull himself up onto the rock, he considered the risks he would have to make. His only foible was the weakness in his arms, notwithstanding a day of nonstop climbing.

Her crimson hair unfurled, blossoming like a brilliant swirling halo beneath the ripples of the pool. The bathhouse felt cavernous. There was nothing else but the two of them and the water.