Personal Narrative: The Night Of The Fasching Dinner

I snapped back into reality and opened my door. I stepped out into the narrow hallway, and I rested my hand on the door knob. The door was almost closed when I had a sudden urge to sneak one last glance at my room. Not being able to let go of my room, I cracked the door open again. My eyes rested on the skeleton of the room, and I gently closed the door.

The Maryland Dining halls have been an unfortunate and familiar scene in my first two years at the University of Maryland. I dreamed of the day when I can no longer be required to be on the meal plan and looked forward to making delicious and fresh meals. But, after my first week of living without a food plan I realized I wasn’t prepared to function properly without a food plan. Often, I relied on unhealthy and inexpensive alternatives that satisfied my hunger. I didn’t know the first thing about living a balanced and healthy life without a food plan and I was glad that I’m not the only one with this problem.

I crawled to the entrance. Eyes still closed, I relied on my keen sense of smell to find the chamber. My mother told me the progress was slow, and she cheered silently when I tumbled into the sanctuary

The year of 2003 my family had lost six people. My grandma, uncle, great grandpa, and one of my cousins, everyone seemed a little empty. As the day went on my parents, along with a few other family members started warming up. I could hear my grandpa’s obnoxious laugh from the other room and my demented teenage cousins wrestling upstairs. The timer for the turkey finally dinged letting us know the meat was ready to eat. My cousin Jessica and I set up all the food as well as drinks; everyone filled their plates as high as they could sat down to feast. I of course made a heaping plate of hot food but I was not able eat much; I felt so sleepy and nauseous. Instead of enjoying quality time with my family I retreated to the couch and slept until it time to leave.

“Good evening”, Cameron Joy Gaspord said to Resident A as she delivers their freshest made dinner to them.  This is a part of Cameron’s job; however, to Cameron, it is far more than a job. Cameron’s first day at Grace Point, over a year and a half ago, she was unsure of her job. Now a year and a half later Cameron knows every tiny detail from the seating chart to all the residents' names. Due to state laws, Cameron is not allowed to share the name of residents or any health complication.

Just like the entrance, this floor was completely deserted. Dust covered the surfaces and the lights flickered. Suddenly, you saw something move in the corner of your eye and you immediately shot towards it, only to find completely stillness. Confused, you rushed forward, just wanting to hopefully find Harry and getting out as quick as

The clock was ticking. It seemed as though it was getting louder and louder as time had tiptoed on. Pages were turned and a silk ribbon of gold was braided into it, for me to feel as though it meant something. From time to time a bird would come and peck at the ink—stealing some of the thoughts away, but like a kite it never flew far, only a few ways and then down as though hit by a hunter’s bullets. The peculiar thing is as they fell down they would merge with colours of the sky and then poof . . . gone. Like a lunatic I sit as décor by this glass pane—writing and writing to an audience who’s unwilling to hear anything. It’s almost shaking how one can suddenly become drunk on nothingness—on nothing but the empty winds that sail.

Those raised in a wealthy and privileged lifestyle are more susceptible to not being able to determine the fine line between what is morally correct and not acceptable in contemporary American society.

Through the blue room, to the purple room, to the green room, to the orange room, to the white room, to the violet room I then ended my path in the black room. The same black room with the ebony clock and the blood stained glass. It was a beautiful room with the black tape rites and glow from the other tripods, it was a shame that not a single guest stood in the room as well. Though when the fearful are cooped up for so long it is to be expected. These were the thoughts running through my mind as I stood in the black room until I heard a mad shuffle of feet behind me. It was here that the prince who decided to storm towards me with a dagger raised high and posed to strike until I looked into his eyes. My gaunt face and sullen eyes peered into the very soul of the prince and after the moment had passed the dagger fell to the ground, along with the now dead Prince Prospero. Gasp rang through all seven rooms and fear was thick through the air but I paid no mind to it. My process had begun and it was time to take the rest. One by one the people dropped from the sick that they tried so hard to run from. The ebony clocked stopped its movement and the tripods blew out

Now we had reached that awkward moment, how do we exit gracefully? Diane said, “We should get going, Bob has an early day tomorrow.”

My hands began to shake as my eyes shifted away from the open boxes revealing packages of pink flesh. I hated blood and everything associated with it: veins, muscles, flesh, and the raw meat that was now staring up at me. I’m not a vegetarian, but rather a knowing, ignorant omnivore. My hand equipped with a sharpie, I took a deep breath and began marking and sorting the donated meat products that would have otherwise been thrown away.

In the fall of 2015 I was given orders to report to Baumholder, Germany. I had anticipated my first assignment eagerly ever since I signed up for the Army in March of that same year. Without any idea what to expect, I dove in blind. The early days of my assignment in Germany were lonely, confusing, and misguided. I know that I was extremely anxious to impress my peers and supervisors. I knew that if I showed I was the best, I would not have to worry about being seen as the child I was used to being seen as. All of the pressure from coming to a new unit had me on edge. I met Sergeant Phillips shortly after my arrival to Germany, and needless to say we did not ‘hit it off’. We had troubles in the beginning but I would not have integrated into this Army so well if it weren’t for the guidance and example of Sergeant Adam Phillips. Sergeant Phillips made a lasting impression on my life professionally and personally.

Damien stifled a small smile before heading back to his spot in the corner, where his only companion was his notebook. His warm, rich croissant now a distant memory he begins to write once more. At first he's slow, pausing, reassuring himself of each word he printed but as the minutes past he fell into a haze. Hanggliding, swooping as he tried to filter his thoughts into the ink before they fell out onto the page itself. It was only when he heard the metallic ring of the bell from the cafe door opening. His hazel eyes widening at who entered.

Fleurettte had been sitting on one of the many staircases Elswood had to offer. It was a casual day for her, with no excitement, nor nothing to peak her interest. And like many things Fleur hated, it was the feeling of dullness or living dull. If she didn’t have a single ounce of anticipation in her life, it wasn’t as if she was living her life to the fullest. That was until of course, someone had caught her eye. A familiar face appeared in the hallway and she swore she had seen in one of her classes before. His name started with a L or M, but she couldn’t remember. Or care to remember frankly. The boy had never peaked her interest, or maybe he would just for today.

Fast forward a few years and I am found staring into the Commercial Arts class at my high school. Upon taking a few steps into the room, I looked at all the classroom had to offer. Tables, computers, and every kind of art supply you could think of were located in this room. This room had me mesmerized.