Personal Narrative Personal Story

As I walked outside the morning of August 12th I noticed the clouds in the distance, they were dark and ominous; I couldn’t avoid feeling as though this was a bad sign of what was to come. Then I thought, “Just my luck, I have to drive on the interstate and it’s going to storm!” There was no getting out of this though, I had to leave, so I got into my car and started driving. Pulling onto the interstate it seemed as though I was heading right into the storm, it somehow had lined up perfectly with the road. The closer I got, it suddenly hit me, the metaphor wasn’t one of bad things to come, but of the step I was about to take in life. I didn’t know what was going to happen, just that I had to keep going. Everything in my life up to this point

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

I got a call one cold, dreary winter night as I was laying beneath the covers on my bed while watching Greys Anatomy. As the phone rang, I didn’t care to answer but the second I hit accept I heard my mother on the other line in a panic. I didn’t think much of it because my mother was the type of person to over exaggerate the little things such as not putting your drink on a coaster. As I waited in silence to hear what my mother said, I could hear my dad screaming in the background. That’s when my mother told me to come to the hospital that something atrocious had happened to my sister. I dropped the phone to the floor and scrambled to the door leaving it wide open. When I got there, I walked up to the front desk as I stumbled walking in. The lady at the counter led me to my sisters room which felt like a million miles away. As I approached my sisters room, I saw the consternation in my mother 's eyes, and the way my dad was refusing to leave the hospital room but being dragged out by some of the doctors. As I looked through the window to where Bria’s body was, I saw it

People often think of language as a connector, something that brings people together by helping them share experiences, feelings, ideas, etc. We, however, are interested in how language sets people apart. Start with the peculiarities of your own personal language—the voice you use when speaking most intimately to yourself, the vocabulary that spills out when you're startled, or special phrases and gestures that no one else seems to use or even understand—and tell us how your language makes you unique. You may want to think about subtle riffs or idiosyncrasies based on cadence, rhythm, rhyme, or (mis)pronunciation.

It seemed as if we had only been at school for about an hour before it was time for

Divorce. A shaping tool that impacts the child’s future immensely. With no additional income source, my fresh off the boat mother had to work constantly to keep the bowls filled with rice. However as a direct result, I would have to take care of myself as my mother was rarely at home. My strict mother would never let me outside so I filled my time with video games. Alone with my video games, no one can question my actions or behavior. With only a mother as a role model, I develop a feminine personally. I thought I was just a normal boy, and growing up with this mentality became problematic. Combined with my mentality and higher pitch voice, people would make fun of me and never took me seriously. I never understood why causing me to stay in

My mom rushed towards me while Veronica phoned 911. About after 15 minutes of waiting, my mom grabbed me and set me down in the backseat of the car. She and Veronica quickly jumped in the car and began to drive to the hospital. Mom was driving while Veronica was ripping up her shirt and covering up my wound. When we finally reached the hospital, my mom and Veronica carried me through the doors and got me to a nurse named Mrs. Zowcowitz.`` I need help, it’s my son, he’s been shot.’’ My mom said panicking.`` I’ll go get help.’’ Nurse Zowcowitz said running through the hall. ``Doctor! Doctor! There’s a boy he’s been shot! He’s losing a lot of blood.’’ She said flailing her arms.`` I’m going right now.’’ Dr. Wade said running towards me. ``Oh there is a lot of blood, quick, we have to get him upstairs.’’ Dr. Wade said calm and collective like. I was then put on a stretcher and was rushed into an elevator. I can remember looking up at my mother with tears in my eyes. I was going to die, I knew it. When they finally got me to a room, I was laid on a bed on was being hooked up with an I.V. ``Everything is gonna be ok.’’ Mom said. Even though the doctors tried their best to save me, I closed my eyes and died shortly

“Daniel is dead!” I blurted out. Then came the tears I’d tried so hard to hide. They ran on and on down my face like a waterfall. I don’t know how long I was crying, but I know that at one point I ran out the door and all the way to my grandparents’ house. It must’ve taken me an hour, at least. They lived fifteen miles out of town, but I was audacious. When I reached my destination, I knocked on the door desperately. My grandma answered it and saw my red, blotchy face. A worried look made its way to

I breath between tears with at least some hope that my mother will still be alive when I hear a moan on the other side of the bed. I gasp when I see her face down I pick her up and I hold her in my arm and she coughs up blood and between little murmurs I catch her telling me that she loves me and that I need to be strong when all of sudden she stops breathing. I stop to sob because for some reason I forgot who to cry instead I held my mother. Sirens get louder and louder when the front door opens and a bunch of people come in repeating into their radios “two people down and one alive” and five people surrounded me ask me “are you okay” and I just look at them with confusion why would ask me that when it was clear that I had just lost both of my parents. They took my mother away and took me to and ambulance outside of my house. As I was close to the ambulance I look over at the police car and found this teenaged boy who look at me with fury that when I realized that had to be the boy that killed my parents everything went black and just felt my body drop to the

Where am I? It is black. It is thundering and lightning. I hear my mom snoring. Then I remember that I am on a camping trip with my Mom, Crystal, Xander, and my papa. We had left at 10pm and slept till we reached the Mcdonald's for a quick breakfast. Then we drove for a few more hours till we reached our campsite in Minnesota at 12:30 pm the next day. We had to set up our tent, but the problem was the tent only held 3 people. My papa wanted to sleep in the bed of the truck. So one of us kids had to sleep in the back seat, Xander volunteered since us girls should not have to sleep in the same tent as a boy. The next order of business was to find the bug spray, there were so many mosquitoes and biting flies. I hate bugs so I hid under a sweater

He walked sluggish up the stairs to go to bed, I ran towards mom to see if she was okay, I saw her face filled with fear and it looks like she wasn’t in this world anymore, like she was off, lost in her conscience. I felt suddenly like I wasn’t home, like I just walked into a different world with parents I didn’t even recognize. I left my mom in her mess of thoughts and ran upstairs a little wary that my dad would pop out. I shut my door silently and just sat on my bed, wondering what happened to Clover and hoping she’ll come back home soon, no wait this is not my home anymore.

My head was killing me as it throbbed from the intenseness of the situation. We were standing on the other part of the highway; wanting nothing more than to sit down. My dad was yelling, “Get out of the middle of the road!” He wasn’t mad, but was afraid passing cars wouldn’t see us with the little moonlight that was laying down on the earth. I followed Karolana as we crossed the yellow lines in the middle of the road. We sat down on the shoulder of the road, beside the two cars. Gasoline filled my nose as I was sitting in a minuscule pool of it. I wasn’t thinking about how anyone else felt at this time. I was consumed with my sobs and the sounds of apologies coming from the other

Knock! It was Drew at Hannah’s bedroom door. It had been five days since Hannah had found out about Lilli’s death and the funeral was that night. Hannah pulled herself out of the mountain of blankets to let Drew in. Hannah was a wreck, mascara all down her face, her hair hadn’t been washed in five days and was in a messy bun, sweat pants and a sweatshirt. When Hannah opened her bedroom door Drew immediately grabbed her small figure and embraced her. He had brought her some homework and Chinese. They sat on the floor sitting criss-cross from each other. “How are you doing? How about you eat something?” asked Drew. Hannah just stared blankly. Drew was starting to get frustrated. “Hannah?” Drew said. Nothing. “Hannah?” Drew repeated. Still nothing. “Hannah! Talk to me! Drew yelled. A single tear slipped down Hannah’s cheek and she yelled back “I’m fine and I don’t want to eat!”. “Damn Hannah! I’m trying to help you and you just push me away. I know losing a best friend is not easy!” Drew said as he got up and started leaving. Hannah stood up following him to the door. “You know why she died? Do you? I bet you don’t!” Hannah yelled as more tears pooled down her face. “It’s my fault!” she yelled. “It’s my fault” she repeated in an almost inaudible whisper. “It’s not your fault Hannah.” Drew said as he wrapped his comforting arms around her. Hannah started sobbing into his shoulder. She kept trying to speak, but nothing could come out in between her sobs. “She died after

Summer is one of my favorite times of year. To most kids, summer means no school, vacation, swimming, being outdoors, and sleeping late. My family was not able to go on an actual vacation this year, but we enjoyed doing other fun activities. While most of my summer was very busy, it slowed down later on, and I enjoyed a lot of time at home with my family.

I awoke with my head clouded with images of failure. My dad, beating me with a stick for not going out to get milk. My mother, hitting me across the head with her hand yelling at me for not making friends. My parents were very strict when it came to my studies, social life, and chores. They made sure I was taught right and how to impress girls for my 16th birthday, when I would choose a wife, but I had no business in doing so. I was 11 and my parents were already getting ready for my wedding.