Personal Narrative: Playing Defense

Hockey. How bad is it to be a heartless player? The dilemma with Eric is that he feels a flaming fire in him but he can’t even explain it to anybody. He can’t even explain it to his parents that really like watching him play. Chris Lynch’s IceMan offers insight on Eric’s experience with hockey and how it shaped his life and just generally made him who he is. Eric is 14 years old. He is an average hockey player on his team. He talks about the games he had played and what he thought about how they went, and how he felt during the game. After reading the story Iceman by Chris Lynch it gave me a lot of thoughts about how to act in distinctive situations. I don’t recommend this text to everybody because it is predominantly about hockey. This fiction

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

On 10/02/2017 at 0017 hours, units were dispatched to 627 Central Ave for a report of a Domestic involving a knife. I responded at emergency speed, priority one. Upon my arrival, I located the accused female in the bathroom.

I caused Greg to break his hand without any remorse at the time. Greg was a high school acquaintance who tended to bully me. He was significantly taller, stronger and more athletic; therefore physically bullying me wasn’t much effort for him. When I heard he was coming to work at the warehouse, I wasn’t particularly happy about it. The warehouse contained boxes from multiple suppliers. Some were really thick and some were really thin. They all contained books, though some were heavy text books while others were light weight paper backs. All workers with experience knew which boxes were heavy, which had thick soft cardboard as a box, and which were encased in thin cardboard. I waited until Greg stopped by with his working partner for

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.

When the war started, I was a young boy, my dad was in the war, once it was November 11, 1918, my mom got a call from my dad’s general saying that the war ended.For the first time in four years, I'm going to see my dad, I thought to myself what is going to happen because I adapted to this routine. When my dad was gone, my mom had to work his job so she would always be late to get home, she usually made me lunch but she isn't her I have to make my own lunch. I did miss dad, but now that he is coming back, I can’t joke around anymore like I used to.

"Oh? How bad you've been? You've been so bad you need to be punished? You've been so bad you need to be spanked?

I hugged Bruno, our bouncy boxer, goodbye as he headbutted me and doused my face with his sloppy, sandpaper tongue. Then I hugged Bruno’s sidekick, Edi, our just-as-bouncy Jack Russell Terrier. They didn’t know this would be the last moment we would be together for a long time.

I've never had to write a personal narrative before. Nor do I like to. Personally, I've always just tried to forget a lot that goes on around me. I hate diary entries and journaling. The closest I've come to any of it is writing poems. They were never any good though. Mostly talking about teenage angst or what I think the color green would taste like. But some of them were like stories. Stories about my friends, and about dreams.

Bright and early on my fifth birthday, my family and I uprooted our lives in Florida and traveled here to Georgia. Memories of Florida are hazy, but if I were to describe the past years here in Georgia in a single word, bold and in all caps would be the word “struggle.” We came here chasing a dream, the dream of a prosperous future in the booming automotive industry. Unfortunately that dream shattered to pieces, and like a barrier, we endured the shrapnel.

Three years ago I moved from Florida to Seagreen, California. My life felt as if it was just beginning and falling into place. However my life was about to change.

“Have you ever played horse?” You asked, basketball in your hands and a mischievous smile on your face, rolling the ball between your fingers. Steve turned towards you, eyebrows raised high, hands on his hips.

It was a normal Saturday evening get together with my extended family and close family friends enjoying each other’s company. There was a large selection of barbeque, sides, and drinks. We were all enjoying ourselves playing 31. I am only sixteen at the time and was privileged to be able to take part on the adult festivities. The card game is fairly simple, you are dealt three cards and the objective of the game is to be the closest to 31. In my family, we have a $1.50 buy in to the game and to continuing playing the game you must pay 50 cents for each additional games lost.

I softly said to Scar “I’m sorry, I’m too late.” We hugged with each others tears flowing onto our backs. But Scar wasn’t done fighting, she whispered to me,

I was at my grandpa's ranch. It was a nice, cool, breezy afternoon. My uncle and I had just finished our walk from our hunting trail. We didn't find anything but little birds. We arrived at the house and my Tia shouted to us from inside the house " Did y'all kill anything", we quickly replied "No". She was not upset or anything because we already had lunch which was barbecue.