Personal Narrative: Red Skin

The worker contacted Misty Black who is a friend of Brittany Hardin. Mrs. Black stated “Brittany was in a situation where her ex (well she told me they were already broken up at the time) had assaulted her. Brittany had called me after Ronita Grady had hit her so I immediately called the police and made my way to Brittany. When I arrived the OCPD were already there speaking to Brittany. The officers also spoke to me and I told him I was the one who called them. After the police left Brittany and the boys stayed with me for a couple days because Brittany was still shaken up. The boys all seemed okay, I don’t think they really knew what had just happened. Brittany thanked me for helping her, because at the time we weren’t really speaking to

One day there was a disease that killed million of people and It was called the RED DEATH. I was there with Prince Prospero when the disease broke out. My family died of the disease so he brought me in the the abbey and thousand other people. I walked in and I saw seven room in a wallway.

The Red Death is commencing to expand throughout the external world, possibly even throughout the ever expanding universe. This bloody horror has taken many of worldly possessions away from those that are ever so less fortunate as it rips them away to the land of the deceased. This pestilence is spreading throughout the common folk as if it were communicating and evolving within itself while its host, unbeknownst to his detrimental future, walks free, spreading the disease with every step. These common folk will never enter the gates of my rich and glorious court. This disease will not enter the gates of the rich, meaningful people of this world. I, Prince Prospero, shall not allow this disease to wreck the lives of those that mean everything to society. Before this abhorred menace reaches its bloody fingers into my dominion, I will save the people that deserve to be saved from this fatal tragedy. My people and I, the rich and worthy, will not become victims. The external can survive alone.

Everyone in their life will face a barrier. A barrier is a challenge or obstacle that makes it difficult or prevents you from moving forward. Some examples of a barrier you would face would be a death in your family,drugs or alcohol,etc. My barrier that I faced was of the unknowing. My friends and family were all involved with my barrier. I have my barrier everywhere I go. I've been faced with my barrier for a ew years now.

In a previous class based on diversity I remember reading about Susie Guillory Phipps and her astonishment to learn being classified as black on her birth certificate when she had spent her entire life believing that she was merely a caucasian woman. I can understand her dismay and learning new and valuable information about herself but what I can not fathom is why she wanted so desperately to change it. What would have been wrong with knowing you had some African American lineage? I then remember that those were different times and I’m sure Susie was raised to think and act a certain way about others who she deemed unlike her.

After a quick glance at the image, the most prominent feature on my slowly-paling face is the black glasses that protrude from my slim face. Next-most prominent is my rather large nose and flowing light-brown hair, that frames my face and hides my ears. Combined, I am the epitome of a suburban Caucasian teen, where my northern European heritage continues to shine through generations of mixed ancestry and Americanization. But, my racial background allows any viewer to develop a myriad of correctly, and sometimes incorrectly, drawn conclusions. The photo allows the viewer to define me by stereotypes ingratiated in society. Knowing no background on this photo, I am surmised by my mundane appearance, clothing, and racial identity as a normal white

Lurid means vivid and unpleasant. Lurid was a word on a weekly vocab quiz I took the week I first visited Simon’s Rock. Lurid was a word used casually (and properly) in a passionate discussion about a Rococo painting, The Swing, in an art history class at Simon’s Rock.

I'm going insane, I can tell. I blink and I see flashes of things that never happened, faces of people that I've never met, and colors. Always colors. Maybe it's the dehydration. They only give me enough water to stay alive, nothing more. As for food, I'm steadily losing weight. I'm all skin and bones, and colors.

A few years back, life threw a curve ball at my family. My mom had been diagnosed with cancer. Skin cancer to be more exact. She was diagnosed with Melanoma which is the only skin cancer that is deadly. This experience taught me to always help others and when one faces a challenge, never back down.

Living in a melting pot such as Los Angeles, mentioning stereotypes would come off as a touchy subject, which in public most people would swear they don’t stereotype people — well I’ll beg to differ. Growing up, I predominately went to school and associated myself with Blacks and Hispanics. In High School, I started having friends of an even more diverse background. It is safe to say I have been exposed to a variety of people from different cultures and upbringings, therefore I have been always comfortable to be in the presents of anyone. I will not say the exposure made me color blind; I understood the concept of institutional racism, prejudice, and stereotypes at a young age. When I was younger a bunch of the non-black kids would create

As I walked up to the starting blocks I could feel my legs shaking and tears pooling in my goggles. My pre-race playlist was already blasting in my ears but I slipped my hand into the pocket of my parka and turned up the volume to distract myself. This just might be my last race ever. A sense of panic surged through my body as the heat before me stepped up to the blocks. “A vos marques!” a loud buzzer sounds and eight girls my age launch into the air. Only about two minutes remaining before the heat finishes. With my earbuds in and my tinted race goggles on I am in another world. I was so out of it I almost didn’t notice the girl standing beside me tapping my shoulder. Reluctantly I yanked out an earbud to see what she had to say.

I woke up in a dark, rocky shelving in a Walmart, stained with some sort of red substance… It was dry and felt oddly sticky. I assumed it must be blood. Curious, I grab a chunk of the red substance and started chewing on it. As grotesque as it looked, I enjoyed the taste. After some more chewy bites, I soon started to realize that it is not blood. It is in fact, expired beans. Quickly, I spit the beans out and contemplate my life choices.

This story refers to those who find curiosity addictive. Usually entails an interest in Death or physical or emotional pain and torment of another person.

I was suddenly aware of my surroundings, the pitch black color of the back of my eyelids. I was beginning to recover slight memories from the terrifyingly realistic I had just pulled myself out of. I opened my eyelids, but quickly shutting them to protect my eyes from the blinding sunlight seeping in through my window. I could feel the hot sunlight on my face, afraid to open my eyes. I opened them slightly, adjusting them to the bright sun that was attempting to blind me. I shifted from my right side to my left arm, and used my free hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes. As I was finally beginning to wake up, I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the thin, rectangular object on my nightstand. I brought it closer to my face and clicked

The line was moving so slow. There has to be thousands of people in this line leading to death, and I am one in line for death. There were so many people, girls in short shorts, belly shirts, and converses. Boys in Currys, Jordans, and expensive Nike's. The red death machine is so scary and so fast. I’m about to ride the Diamondback, and I'm about to regret coming to kings island.