Personal Narrative: The Sheep

On a snowy and windy night, I was at Barnes & Noble in Green Bay with my friends, Alan and Karina. Christmas music played overhead, the smell of hot chocolate and freshly brewed coffee wafted over, the customers were kind and cheerful, and snow was beginning to blanket the parking

Tires squealed on black ice and the engine backfired as she swerved around a narrow edge of the cliff. Jennifer Lesniak is traveling from Wisconsin to Oregon in a six ton truck through treacherous mountains and endless plains. It was three days of almost non-stop driving, only being able to sleep when she gave the wheel to her husband. Just when she was about to give up she thought the extreme weather in Wisconsin and about why she was moving to Oregon in the first place. She carried on willed by the warmer weather that awaited her on the west coast. The snow fell like ash from a volcano, building up on the road to the point where they had to get out of their truck and shovel the road clear. “Clearing the roads were extremely difficult” She said. “We were so close to the edge of this mountain standing on slippery ice trying to shovel the snow out of the road with little to no safety guard between us and the drop.”

Growing up was though. The hardest part was learning how to dwell with unpredictability. When I was a kid, it enchanted me. I was fascinated to observe how randomness could yield starry skies, carve underwater caves or compose the most fascinating stories. Still, I wouldn't let uncertainty flow through my

As I heard my alarm clock go off at two in the morning, feeling prepared mentally but not physically. My mind,at that point in time raced with thoughts and expectations, although my body felt like it wanted to die. Finally dragging myself out from under the soft covers, I pulled my gear to the bed of the truck and threw my bag up over the side of the truck's bed,-- hearing a giant thud from the heftiness of my pack. I felt mixed emotions coming from my body, my mind ready and my body said: “go back to bed hate you, I hate you, I hate you”. As soon as I plopped myself into the truck squished with three people in the back seat, after about five minutes of driving all three of us passed out fast asleep. The moment I woke, pulling into the parking lot of Mount Washington, New Hampshire I felt ready. When I stepped out of the car, I threw my hands in the air, the best feeling of stretching after a car ride. I look up to see this mountain completely covered with snow and only one round part completely treeless; that's where we hiked too. Strapping my fifty-pound pack on my back containing ski boots, skis, poles, winter gear, and food felt more tiring than it should have.

Today is like any other for me, grumble and scuff out a living. Of course the norm for me is that of any citizen living in zone three. The rules are simple to sum it up, you keep your head down and your mouth shut. Because, every where is sooth zone, soothern

Tracks He sat pondering with stinging eyes outside in the frosty evening air. His head was throbbing with a migraine that carried his thoughts to darker times, times that made his heart burn. Times that now caused his lungs to only inhale, that suffocating feeling the feeling of deaths unbearable hug,

This is my sixth day on the ice. This is the first time the weather has been calm enough for me to take off my gloves. I want to leave this missive in case I don’t make it back home. I started on my journey with a team of seven dogs and my Inuit guide. Three of the dogs were lost in the white out. The wind howled and we tried to dig in, but my guide slipped and cut his leg with his knife. He lasted three days, and I can still hear his moaning as he finally gave in to the cold and the infection that festered in his leg. I lost my goggles in the storm and the white is nearly blinding. I have never felt this cold. I feel as if I am close to the grave. The light is slipping away and I know that the approaching night may bring my death. I need

At home mom was anxiously looking out because she was worried about this storm. There were mountains of snow. Finally the snow stopped and the snow shoveling machines did their job.

he breathed heavily throughout the night. Adrian breathed heavily throughout the night. we lived in a small deserted town with a population of seven hundred and sixteen. it was made of three blocks that use to boom with depressing, vacant tenants with no purpose in life but to figure out why they were present in this tundra-like hell. everyone fucking sad but simple. at this time every year, a wicked snowstorm

As muscles tightened and head throbbed, all that was on my mind was the fear I would never be able to get up again. Very thankful for the time with friends, it never crossed my mind something like this could happen. My heart was racing like it wasn’t going to stop, and then it hit me like a brick wall. There I was lying on the hard earth staring at the blurred trees stuttering around me like a slow motion video. Driving up to trollhaugen on this frostbitten arctic February day felt like a century as all the kids had been looking forward to this day forever. Laughing and playing games was our way to pass time as well as occasionally glancing out into the bleak fields of grass. Pulling into Trollhaugen’s parking lot lit up our faces like children

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

She trotted out into the splintering cold. It was so cold. It was freezing. Morgan could feel her legs rubbing against her thick, double layered jeans. It felt like if she continued walking any farther, she would rub her legs raw. She could see her breath as she exhaled in the chilling air. She could smell the crisp snow outside, and could feel the sting of the wind on her nose. And oh that wind, it was like a whip that never stopped lashing. Every time it stopped, you got a slight, fleeing sense of relief but it was never quite satisfying because you just know another killer ice-cold gust is

BANG! CRASH! We had just slipped on black ice and flew off the road. The car started to flip and I could feel my body starting to slip out from my seat. Should’ve worn my seatbelt. By the time the car had flipped 4-5 times off the road and finally stopped by a fallen down tree, when I looked over Jillian was unconscious. I couldn’t move to even see if she was still breathing. It was freezing outside and my jeans started to feel wet because the snow had made its way in from the broken windows. Jillian had her face pressed up to the broken window and the snow. I could see the snow starting to turn red from all the blood rushing from the side of her face. I noticed a steady dripping of blood coming from somewhere, turns out, it was me. I managed

Pulling the hand warmers out of my coat pocket, I tore off the wrapper, shook them, and stuck them inside my gloves as I slid them on and began to make my way down, what I thought was our driveway, towards the sidewalk with the dog sled dragging alongside my footsteps collecting the top layer of the powdery white flakes as the loud crunching of snow being packed down with every step I took filled my ears. Finally I reached a long narrow ice kissed sidewalk, the once cold, wet burdensome boots I had on become as light as a feather as I skated along the frozen pathway. A treacherous climb up the long, steep staircase covered in slush leading to the top of the sled hill laid before me. Unfortunately this was the only way up, so I began my hike, only to be disturbed by the cool chilly winds. At last,

The snow seemed like it will never stop. At my house, that sits upon the top of a mountain, we had over three feet of snow. It was three days before Christmas and the sun was just rising over the snow covered mountain range, the morning sky was grey with a splash of pastel pink and a warm yellow. With the smell of black coffee, I woke up in my sister’s room. The sunshine was beginning to peak into the small yellow room, my sister, Allison, was still sleeping with shallow breaths. I carefully swing my legs out of her bed, the frame made a quick, high pitch creak as I stand up. As I tiptoe towards the door, the sound of bacon hitting the hot skillet makes my stomach growl. I quietly close the bedroom door behind me.