Personal Narrative: The Servant Girl

So, I want to begin by saying, I didn't finish this book. I had so many problems with the writing and characters that I did not enjoy reading it for the most part.

On Monday 6/29/2015 Sgt. Alexander and I was dispatched to the Hostess House located at 6741 Highway 70 in reference to 2 subject, Mr. Burnette and Mr. Jacobs that were renting room 251 and had outstanding warrants.

My Daughter, I have for months been in apprehension that David would volunteer. Yet, joining the Army will be a terrible trial to me. He joined the Washington County Company commanded by Capt.Willet. They are now at Camp Cummings, the Fair ground. David sold his Pistol, got $25 for it, paid some of his little debts and we are preparing shirts with crochet work. He is very serious and deliberate about it, and the poor boy, he will be more so as the hardships thicken upon him. He was anxious to be called in.

On October 17, 2033, I was adopted from The Carey House For Girls soon after my third “birthday”, when Dixon was 10. I was your average orphan girl: left on the doorstep with a name around my neck before I could remember my parents faces, so the day i was taken in (October 11th) became my birthday. I never once wondered about who/where/how my birth parents were. I wasn’t mad that they gave me away nor was i curious as to why they did it. I simply didn’t care. For instance, One day when i was 13, a couple showed up at our house claiming to be my parents. Cia and Page were busy upstairs so I invited them in, shared some juice with them, chatted a bit with them, and then showed them out the door. By the time my mom asked me about who came in,

I spoke with Sarah Morra regarding the home. She listened carefully and patiently to my inquiry and then informed me that the home was still available. Then, she mentioned that it was tenant occupied and once an offer was accepted, the tenants would have sixty days to vacate. In addition, she informed me that it was being sold "As-Is." Sarah provided brief information about the property, however, she did not do so in an upbeat and encouraging manner. Although Sarah was friendly, she made no effort to build rapport. In general, I found her professionalism to be

Her Kind- "I have gone out a possessed witch\" to me this describes a young woman, full of energy and foolishness, non conforming to her environment and appearing rebellious at best. Much of this reminds me of my life as a young woman full of dreams and hope, not worried about consequences. And not quite a woman yet.

Lastly and most importantly, I'm a daughter. Being any type of child to someone can bring much love but also a lot of hurting and responsibilities. When my sister was leaving for college it was very stressful for everyone, especially my mom because no matter how close you are with your children sending them to college in some small way feels like your losing them We have a big window looking outside into the front yard and street, l was sitting there done night reminiscing. My mother walked over and sat down beside me, we sat in silence for a while I looked over to her and she was heavily breathing, could smell some alcohol off her breathe.Tears we strolling down her face, she looked at me and said "Grace, know there's a lot going on, but just know that you can talk to me about anything I'll always be here.

Growing up with a mother who worked first shift, a father who worked third shift, and a brother nine months older than me, I had literally no one to teach me how to read. I would sit in the middle of the living room floor and hold a book upside down and pretend to read. I had no idea what was actually on the page but from the picture I was pretty spot on. I would read anything with pictures on it. My first reading encounter did not start off in an academic setting.

After working a long fifteen hour shift, my arms and legs feel like wet pasta. In Dover, it is still legal to send your children to work in factories. My first day working at the linen factory, which was three years ago, I passed out and when I woke up I was still laying in the same spot. I quickly realized that from now on I was on my own. That was a very hard lesson to learn at the age of eight, but it made me into the young person I am today.

In every high school one must choose one fine art. Some would probably have difficulty choosing which art to pursue for the next four years. But when I was

I must have been eight or nine when I started planning with a friend to put on a play. Katie was probably fourteen or fifteen and all we really wanted was to do something with our friends, neither of us having much experience with acting. Looking back now, many years later and a lot more knowledge and experience on the subject, I’d say we were gung hoe and mess up on out priorities. First we started writing a script. Understandably she didn’t want me to write it and she never got much of a chance to work on it except when we were together sometimes. Well we didn’t get very far and our families finally convinced us to start with a play already written. What did we pick? Well, I think we jumped around a little before settling on ‘The Taming

It’s May 29, 2016 it’s sunny outside but there’s a storm on the way. The hospital room was cramped with the two incubators in there. I’m at the hospital visiting my sister and my nieces Lillian and Meredith. I am holding Lillian for the first time and I have to be extremely careful with her head because she just had an iv taken out of her head earlier that day. She’s only about 3 ounces and she’s about a foot long. She’s sleeping peacefully while I hum a lullaby to her. Both my nieces are strong because they have fought off little cold like bronchitis, but another person who is strong is my sister Ashley who herself is 5’2 with brown hair with blonde highlights throughout her hair. She may look tiny in size but physically and mentally

I am not a repressed housewife. I am not a sweet dormouse that fears making waves. I am a millennial, and I am loud. I am a person who believes in America, and its policy of justice for all. Feminism is a huge aspect of our society. It's hard to

As a young woman growing up in the South, I have participated in many pageants throughout the years. While my motivation for the competition was to gain scholarship funds and build my resume’ with awards, leadership and platform development skills, my fellow contestants had other goals. I had a time to do a lot of self-reflection. In almost every pageant, I was asked “If you could change anything in the world, what would it be?" Though I tried my hardest to find the right thing to say to pull on the judge’s heartstrings, each time I would give the simple answer: “myself and heteronormative power structures.”

As I drifted into sleep that night, I delve head first into the realm my mind had created. Rather than simply seeing, I remembered snippets, clips, small images of the events that had occurred at tonights festivities. Thanasis ' joking, Tases ' silver ring, and the odd man who sat in the corner of the hall, hood pulled far over his head, thereby shielding his face from anyone who might pay him attention. I hadn 't thought much of him, just a lone man, I had thought, and gone about the nights high spirited enjoyments. But something kept pulling me back, urging me to look again. Another image, the man was closer now, standing. I tried my best to avoid staring, but he didn 't seem real. He was there, in spirit perhaps, but something about the edges of his form blurred and rippled. It was as though he were only an image, and not substantial. I hadn 't expected to see him again, having paid him so little attention in the first place. I felt uncomfortable. I felt his gaze and realised that even though I was dreaming, it was unlike any dream I had ever had before. People about me buzzed and chatted, linked arms and drank, while this man, this stranger, moved closer and closer. I couldn 't stop watching him, and I found myself unable to move - wether by fear or by the act of some malignant magic, I had no idea.