Personal Narrative-Stailen

It's a Friday afternoon, I plan to go to Great Wolf Lodge in an hour with my church. I see one of my friends so he says to his mom “ Hey, that's my friend” I said “Crap” So I go inside to sign in to go and see my friends just sitting in a corner on a big sofa. We are listening to music and just talking then a green bus comes.

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

When I was younger I had always been described as mature. Although I wasn’t anywhere near being “mature”, it was a word always used to describe me, well-mannered and mature. While my brother was goofy and social, I was shy and serious. We were twins yet total opposites. As a child, because that was the word almost always associated with me, it crae unusual, almost toxic idea about myself. I had to be mature to be what people liked about me. So, it never occurred to me to be able to not take myself seriously and say something like “Oops that was dumb” and laugh it off. For some reason that didn’t make sense to me to say silly things like that.

The night was another quiet one , the morning even more quiet . No more family sit downs at the table , just coffee brewed from whoever wakes up first and help yourself to breakfast. I sat outside the porch with my coffee , first day of October with the fall feeling in the air , I was looking at nothing , I pulled out my cell phone and decided it was time to tell Trever my input on who is doing this. I heard his phone ringing , but it went straight to voice mail , I left a long message explaining everything , hoping this will get him to look into her.

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

Ignoring me, he continued, "She broke up up with me because I bought her a simple neclace for her birthday not the diamond bracelet she wanted."

FOREWORD: It is to my immense displeasure to report the disappearance of most of Stalker squad and their commanding officer, Senior Sergeant Zur of our special operations division. All contact was lost with Stalker squad after Specter emerged from the tunnels, and due to the sheer size of the tunnel network adjacent to the bunker under the compound, not to mention the strange occurrences that took place there, I had no choice but to order the squad’s evacuation.

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

Walking around the scene i seen at least 10 bullets, blood splatter everywhere. As i walking up to the body i see that he has three gunshots. I go into his pocket, i pull his wallet and see that it's his id the identification says “ Matt Walmer”. His girlfriend runs up to the scene with tears bursting out of her eyes and loud bloody screams echoing.

Mark Depsey III is the president of the country club social committee, making him and his wife ranked at the top of the socialite hierarchy.

Officer Gordon comes quickly up to me and says “Chief Lussen we found him” and that officer Miles is taking him into the interrogation room. As I take a second to myself and take a deep breath officer Gordon passes me files for the case. I walk towards the interrogation room but i wanted to look at him before I walked in and started interrogating him. So I looked at him through the observation mirror into the interrogation room and thought to me all my years of working as a homicide investigator this case is the case that has shocks me the most. 37 residents that live in the neighborhood and saw & even heard something or someone yelling on the street didn't even call the police.

I noticed it was getting harder to finish assembling my gun; I was losing the outside light. The sun was already setting, even though it was just after three. I remembered when I had gone to Middle School, during winter, of having to walk through Arkham's icy atmosphere instead relaxing in the warm luxury of riding in the car, which we'd sold to defray, in part, another of the old man's expeditions, this time to Nepal in search of the legendary Plateau of Leng. Such dangerous destinations meant nothing to me at the tender age of thirteen, of course, except in that I could no longer bask in the warmth of the Nexus's heater.The Eastern horizon would be barely beginning to lighten by the time I reached the gate. I got home just after

I don’t know what’s going on. Some officers came into the barracks and took all of Lieutenant Virk’s stuff. They told us he was dead!

So much for my hunch. Carl is starting to get a little irritated with us at the moment, but as I’m standing next to him showing my phone, I saw a charred remains of a notebook in the tin box, somehow wedged itself so it was stuck, possibly forced in when Carl hastily placed those papers inside. I point over to it and ask “What is that?”. Carl, sees the charred book and shuts the tin case before I had a chance to reach into it.