Personal Narrative Story : A Story?

I can recall the first time I was kicked to start a game. Some people say it’s a great moment but I don’t think of my memory like that. Before I got kicked I had heard great stories about it. So, I expected it to be super fun, but that’s not how I experienced it.

It wasn't like she didn't know who Stiles Stilinski was, it was just that in all those years of school she had never approached the subject—never cared about him one way or the other. She fell into society's view of what a teenage girl should be and she became the popular girl who didn't outwardly associate with those that she believed to be beneath her, but the charade was exhausting. Lydia Martin was a very brilliant girl and she had a lot to offer, but she didn't always believe that much in herself on her own.

“Well, dammit all to hell and Goldview, Texas, anyway,” Brandon Masters whispered under his breath. Not that there was anyone around to hear him, even if he’d shouted to the high heavens. He looked up and down the lonely stretch of highway. So close and yet so far, with nothing but his dead cell phone to keep him company. The way he saw the situation…he could suck it up and walk to town—or, he could wait around for the carrion feeders to discover his dried up, shriveled carcass at the side of the road. Ick.

Healthy food had always been a part of my life that I was interested in but it was not until I walked into Happy and Hale that I realized the impact it would make. It was a normal weekend getting food on Ninth Street with my friends when I was standing on the sidewalk and looked across the street. I saw something I had never seen before which sparked my interest since I thought I knew Ninth Street like the back of my own hand. Looking up at a substantial sign that read “Happy + Hale” I felt the need to know more. My friends and I started walking towards the building which had wide open accordion doors that welcomed us in. We were welcomed by many friendly faces, one of them being the co-owner, Matt. “Hey, y’all! How are

BEEP BEEP BEEP screamed the alarm set on my phone. I rolled over and silenced it as swiftly as I could. I sat up and looked around the humid garage and sighed, and scrunched up my nose in distaste at the odor of vomit and day old pizza filled my nose. I sighed again and got up off of the thin mattress, walking to the door and picking my bag up as I left the garage, and headed to the bathroom. I sighed and looked in the mirror, pulled my hair back, brushed my teeth, and left, thinking the words over in my head on how to tell Hailey that this friendship needed to end because I did not like how it was starting to wear at me. We fought almost constantly and lately she kept trying to pressure me into doing things I really did not care to do and had told her from the start that I was okay with her doing them, but I just did not want to get involved in.

I hurried through the hallways rushing to get to first period like any other normal day in high school, until everything turned upside down. The beginning months of my freshmen year were what I thought would be the best start to the next four years. By the time spring rolled around, I was getting ready to start lacrosse season with my best friends. We all started playing in middle school and loved the sport, as well as our coach, who had also been the high school coach. Unfortunately, our favorite coach had been terminated and it changed everything. I felt that I had a great advantage in knowing the coach and understanding the way she taught. That day my life shifted and impacted my high school career. I attended all of the practices, including

“Mom, please! don’t leave me here!” I squealed as I held her arm with an iron grip.

It was midday when a man named John was driving across state to see his family. He was driving through the abandoned woods and the unexpected happened, his engine started smoking so he pulled over in the middle of nowhere to check it out he got it fixed but, something else happened his tires were flat and he had no spares it was like this was no accident. So he started walking through the woods looking for help, after an hour of finding nothing he tried to go back to his car but, His car was gone! After panicking he tried to call the police but, he left his phone in the car so he didn’t know what to do. After a hard hour of thinking he knew what he had to do he had to find somewhere to sleep but he didn’t know where to look. He looked around for a few minutes in the cold and dark woods and he seen a light in the distance so he tried to follow it. As he was walking he started to feel tired, his legs went weak and he felt a shiver down his spine so knowing he needed to hurry he tried to run but it was like he was paralyzed at that instant he felt a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t feel alone. Once he got feeling back and could move again it seemed as if the light started to get dimmer so he moved quicker. Every step he took felt like he was being watched he didn’t like it at all and what seemed like hours of running he made it, he was at an abandoned home where he seen the light from. He was going to go inside but, he seen a dark figure that caught his eye right then and

Saturday, November 15, 2014. By all accounts, it was a day like any other. The sun rose and set between the barren branches of the trees as my family and I took shelter from the cold. That night, my father, mother, and brother were watching curling downstairs as I nestled in the dark of my room, listening to music through my headphones. At one point, there was a loud crash from the next room over – my parents’ bedroom – and my cats went wild, hissing as they sprinted out like a shot. I went to go investigate, but didn’t notice anything amiss. I figured my cats had just knocked something over and had gotten freaked out, so I walked back to my room. As I plopped back onto my bed, I happened to glance out the window. That’s when I saw the ladder in my backyard, leading up to my parents’ bedroom.

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.

“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

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.

The last couple of minutes were thinning out and it was time to go. Of course, I had to dance to the last few seconds left of the song, but I shouldn’t have. As I was going to go and grab my jacket I went down. As I began to fall I knew that there was not going to be a good outcome. As I hit the cold, chopped up, ice, I immediately thought about my wrist to see if it was okay because I had just gotten my cast off early that week. But I realized that the pain was all in my left ankle. I quickly grabbed my ankle and was on the verge of crying. Everyone surrounded me asking if I was okay. I couldn’t stand it, everyone talking in my ear, seeing if I was okay. Clearly, I was not, I’m sitting on the ice holding my ankle like it’s a newborn baby, so fragile.

“Baby, please don’t go without me,” Delia said, as I got ready for my day out on the streets of Cebu City, which was my first solo outing.

It is a white ridge across the span of my knee. The ridges feel rough against my fingertips as I run my hand across it. Little bumps are present and it appears as if to a shooting star. There is a larger spot and then a thin ridge following behind it, all a stark contrast of color from the rest of my skin. I smile at the memorable thought associated with the scar, but also wince as I think of the pain. Now the scar seems to be a wisp of an ordeal from a past life. Even a year after I got it, it was still soft pink tissue, and each time I touched it, I felt the pain from the unfortunate day where I received such a scar.