Personal Narrative Story : A Short Story

It was a Saturday morning and it was game day. The game didn’t start until 12:00 and we didn’t have to be there 10:45 A.M. Once all of us got there and we finally got into the gym to shoot around and warm up, Alicia and I were talking about who St. Marys had all beaten. From who they had beaten, they sounded pretty good. After a while of shooting we started to stretch. Alicia, Hannah, and Emily were near me so I asked them why the other team wasn’t here yet. Emily said “I don’t know they normally are already here”. By this time Taylor Swift’s song came on which is Emily’s favorite singer. The song was “22” and Emily started to sing “We will just keep dancing like were 22”. Once we were done stretching we started to shoot

Guess what my sister did this weekend? Last weekend was her last meet before counties. She did very well. I had so much fun watching her. There were sad moments though when the relay was lost by a split of a second, b. But I still thought it was fun since it was her last meet before winter.

As I walked into Hall D of the Kentucky International Convention Center, I noticed half of my team sitting on the green and blue carpet with yellow streaks. I joyfully skipped over to Lexi, my strong back spot, sat down, and started to tie the long, rough-looking white laces of my off-white Tumblina cheer shoes. All around me, I heard murmurs; cheer counts from one to eight, laughing moms and daughters, gossip behind me, and coaches trying to perfect their teams routine before hitting the big mat. I could smell the strong scent of hairspray, hot food right from the restaurant nearby, and the disgusting smell of spray glitter all around me.

Malia gasped for breath as Dominic wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Her hands coming up to grip hold of his hands as if afraid they would leave her at any moment. And loosing him now meant loosing her ability to breath. He was like air, forcablly filling her lungs and pushing life back into her shaking body. It was his fault she was feeling this, but he was the reason she felt strong enough to face it all.

I quietly let tears run down my face as my mother viciously beat me with her own hands. As she throws me on the floor, her foot makes hard contact with my back barely missing my spine. It feels as if she just threw a hundred bricks at me. “Be quiet! I’m watching the game!” my mother’s boyfriend yells from the living room while he lights another cigarette. I lay there with an emotionless expression on my face as my mother begins throwing whatever she can grab at me. She laughs as she looks at me lay on the kitchen floor silently weeping. “Pathetic” she says loud enough for me to hear. I close my eyes as she picks me up and takes me past her boyfriend and out the back door. I suddenly feel cold, and as I open my eyes, I was thrown into the

I immediately rushed the mysterious box of money to my room to count it. There was a total of $40,000! Where did all of that money come from?

On a rainy day in November, Allison was sitting out on the porch staring out to the world. However, she started to recall the conversation she had with her best friend Jasmine. The reason she began to remember their conversation was because she felt that day reminded Allison of all the bad days she had in the last few years. Considering Allison was day dreaming, she watched and listened carefully to everything that was going on.

She obviously hates me, she has no other reason to do something like this to me. Why this quickly? Why couldn’t she let me know about this a month ago? Now I have to go somewhere that I don’t know anything about. I don’t know anyone there, including my own Nana! I haven’t seen her since I was six, and she doesn’t know anything about me. I opened my bedroom door to grab the suitcase, and there she was. My mother was standing there, staring at me with a blank stare waiting for me to open the door.

Waiting until her husband, Jerry left for work before she showered, dancing around the room wearing only her underwear, Marlene whispered. “I am a lucky woman, a great husband that provides exceptional well for me and the out two children, Ashley and Mark. What more could I ask for?”After spending ten minutes choosing the perfect pants, shoes and top for the day, it was time to finish her makeup, before putting on her jewelry. Looking in the tray sitting on the dresser for her favorite earrings, but they were not there. Knowing where she always put her jewel each night when she took them each night. Shocked, they were not on the dresser where she left them, she said, “Oh, shit, Jerry will kill me if I lost those damned earrings again. I know I laid them on the dresser.” Looking around on the floor and under the bed, she was unable to find them.

“I’m so excited!” I said, as we were loading the supplies into the car. I picked up the cooler and loaded it into the back of the truck. My long brown hair brushed my face while the bright warm sun of the afternoon warmed me. Then, I started loading other things into the car, not exactly knowing where they were supposed to go.

I screamed so loud that my neighbors heard me as they were taking a walk. “Mom, Dad! Help me!” My dad rushed in from his room and looked at me with his mouth wide open. My mom sprinted up the stairs and put her hands to her mouth in shock.

When I first heard the news, I wasn’t shocked. Rather guilty and sad. As I sat in the car thinking about the past few months, I was filled with regret. All the memories came rushing through my head as I sob. I wonder why I made the choices to do that.

“What a day!”, Jennifer thought to herself with a half smile as she studied the reflection looking back at her in the bathroom mirror. Standing there in her tiny apartment, she wondered how she managed to get so fortunate. Every day seemed a gift but did not take them lightly or for granted. Everywhere she went these days, people nodded appreciative greetings or went all out with full compliments. Sure she always tried to look her best, but even as she studied her own countenance, she did not deceive herself that she was in any way perfect. To her mind, metaphorically, being in her late forties definitely did not make her the prized eight ball in the rack of balls on the pool table. The odds were considerably high that she’d be one of if not the first ball to be struck by the cue ball and fall into one of the pockets out of play in every competitive game. Even if she survived a shot, she wouldn’t be on the table very long. And when it came down to it, her five-foot-six-inch one-hundred-thirteen-pound slender body and age appropriate yet sexy hair and face just recently happened, a weird phenomenon that mysteriously occurred perhaps from sheer force of willpower alone. She brushed her teeth and got set to shower while mulling over the events of that late afternoon. Three hours earlier, a stylish and handsome gray-haired distinguished looking man directed flirtatious charm at her, engaging her in conversation in line at a cookie kiosk in the mall. It felt good—and right. The

It wasn’t all bad growing up in Issaquena, Mississippi. We were all together as one family, living under a single roof that barely provided protection from the outside predators. Growing up with a mother, a father, a sister, and a brother was everything I ever wanted as child, but who would have thought that I’d lose everything so quickly. Each and every day, I slaved away for some bitter master. Each and every day, I’d wake up to the sounds of roosters and men marching. Most of all, I wanted to escape that land and environment and I wanted to be liberated from the war. Torture filled up my childhood in ways that were unimaginable.

Driving home thinking about her loss, looking up, Marlene saw the light changing and applied her breaks as the truck behind her failed to stop. Hitting her Mercedes, it smashed the trunk and knocked the car several feet. Getting out of the truck, the driver checked Marlene for injuries, and she yelled, “You’re nothing but an idiot and they shouldn’t allow you to drive.”