Personal Narrative-Nolan's Home

"More than anything, I just want you to know that there is more than one person you can lean on. You may have someone up their who you are relying on, but you have two incrediably strong sons who would never wish to see their mother in pain like this. Whatever the outcome we finally get your boys will be strong for you and in return I'm sure you will be strong for them."[/b]

Out the window and down the fire escape, twenty floors was nothing at this point, and considering police would have to get here and go all the way up to the top, I was in the clear. As I slide down the ladder to the ground, I heard the sirens pulling up in the front, perfect timing, I walked out the alley, taking off my hoodie and slowly joining the crowd forming behind the cop cars. “The best place to hide is in plain sight,” something grandpa told me that I'll never forget, though considering I was a college student with a backpack in New York, blending in was a given. Making my way to the side of the crowd, trying to catch a word of what the officers were saying. “Suspect, average height, weight, witness says all they saw was a shadow going out the window.

“Why, so she can go on and on about how long we haven’t seen each other?”

"Scarlett, he will be back. As will the others. Right now, we have the living to care for. We must save them first." It was as if my thoughts had been heard.

“Frank,” Gerard whispers from his bed, rustling the covers and he turns to face me. Propping his head in the palm of his hand he waits for me to respond. Which I don’t, because it’s nearly 4am, so I at least give him a loud ‘humm’. “Can I see your tattoos?” he asks like a little kid asking for candy. I nod even though he can’t see and flick on the lights. Practically blinding me. I sit up and pull off my shirt nonchalantly. It seems like a weird request for most people, but it’s happened to me so much I am overly comfortable with my body. His eyes widen and stands up cautiously, acting like if he got too close I’d bite him. Even though I only have a few, he looks like it’s his first time watching porn. He cocks his head, looking at my face, confused. “What are these?” he says, holding out his hand point, but stopping a few inches from my ear. Almost as if he was going to touch, but couldn’t. I wish he would. Not in the creepy way, I mean, I’m straight. Sure. But I wanted him to know it was okay to touch me. For the future.

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.

I while later I come around the final turn that lead to the pack Hospital, it's past dusk now. The hospital itself looks like regular ol' human hospital, they've even got ambulances, but there ambulances are way more heavy duty then the regular ones, which is understandable. I look down at my mate, he slowly opens his honey collard eyes, As he does, slightly whimpers. "Hey. Wake up babe we're here" say softly.

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.

“I Allen Moira, take you Cecillia to be my wife. I promise to cherish you for all my days. I vow to live for you, and do everything I can to ensure your happiness. No matter how dark things may become I promise to be your light that leads you to safety. I love you, Cecilia. Do you accept me as your husband?”

The small leaking sink in the corner is hypnotic. Drip, drip, drip echoing through the cold concrete room keeping my mind settled like soothing background music. The striped shadows on the floor are confusing my eyes. I began to awaken my mind as I realised where I am. I feel the cooled air in my skin as I hear the faint sound of footsteps getting louder and louder. Eventually stopping right outside the once quiet room. I hear the sound of keys as the man looks through them and the click as he unlocks the door letting the door roll open with the eerie sound of rusty hinges.

How many times you’ve made me lonesome. Even when the often stained sky is but a hushed void, you still leave me to witness it alone; slouched on my wooden throne, strokes of blood softly flowing down these rosey cheeks. Shut up for me please. There’s far too much discourse to call this silence. Moths gather in my head, but in any case, it’s futile as they burn down in my dream, and after that, nothing’s left again. Shut up. I’d rather wake up to tomorrow's inadequate dawn.

I guess it was about four years that had passed since I had moved away from Stuytown and my friends and acquaintances, when I came for one of my visits. I would visit with mommom and gramps which basically meant I slept in their apartment, ate their food and shat in their toilet. Then the rest of the day I would hang with Kevin and/or Jimmy and maybe stop in on Paul, run across Jimmy, shoot a few hoops with Chris, and perhaps an emergency– shat in one of their bowls.

As I jumped out of the trunk of the car, where I was surrounded by mounds of fabric all from my outfit changes, all I could smell was the earth. The freshly cut grass and the icy cold stream were the only things that occupied my nose. I stood in the middle of the field of grass and took it all in. Despite all the chirping and squeaking from the surrounding critters, I felt like I was the only one in the park. All I could see was flashes of red, orange, brown and green as I spun around to take a mental panorama. The squirrels and groundhogs scurried across the fields of grass. The butterflies soared through the air looking for the next flower to call their own. The tree leaves whistled as the cool air flew between them. The slight breeze in the atmosphere sent a sort of chill down my spine.