Unbroken: A Short Story

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

*disclaimer: bare with me... the next 5 chapters are crap because i wrote them over a year ago...chapter 19 will be the start of some great shit*

I’ve always been an outsider, it’s been hard for me to build friendships and relationships. Not too long ago, there I sat in the corner of the room in the way back, trying to hide from the world, and be myself. I didn’t really want to get involved with anything or anyone. I was afraid to open up, talk to others, maybe because I was afraid to get rejected. Until, I met the best people I could ever meet, my best friends Marisa Mendoza, Jessica Contreras and Deseray Reyes, the ones who up to this day have sticked by my side, at my best, and worst moments. They have all been a big part of my life, I can enjoy every minute I spend with them. For me, they aren’t only my friends they are like my sisters.

I was in the car with my family heading towards the lake to go fishing. The car ride was long and boring. Half through the car ride we stopped at a gas station so we could get some gas. After we got gas we went back on the road and I fell asleep through the other half of the car ride.

The saying goes, “there are moments in life that can either make or break us.” There was a critical time in my life where that quote really came into play. While other regular fourteen-year-olds were worrying about school, clothes, etc.; I was facing a much more pressing matter. Fighting between the line of life and death with cancer.

I was sitting at my desk, looking around for any small detail that I thought I may have missed. Everything looked organized and the way my roommate and I wanted it to look. I looked at him and told him “this is our new home for a year”. Every upcoming college student dreams about moving day and my time was coming soon. Three weeks prior to move in day, I began organizing and preparing for what was coming, “What are the most important things I should bring”, “How much is the trip going to cost?”, all these questions began to rush towards my head at once and if it wasn’t for the help of my mom, I wouldn’t have been able to organize myself and pack for college.

Home is the beginning of one’s book. It is where your story begins, forms its characters, shows its purpose, and reveals its ora. This is how mine is written. Home is on the buzzing highway down a bumpy gravel road. It’s Brandon, Mississippi. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Home is the smell of homemade biscuits and tomato gravy on Saturday mornings. It is “Bless Your Heart” and “Yes Mam” and “No Sir”. The little bedroom in the back of a grey double-wide where Carrie Underwood songs played and where I learned to curl my hair and put on mascara. My cousins and I running around with mason jars, chasing the lightning bugs. Bar-B-q on the back porch and never meeting a stranger. It is the morals learned and the identity

It’s Monday, March 15 1943. Each day just gets harder, more people start getting sent to execution camps or how my parents tell my little brother, “a place that needs more workers.” I’m scared for the day it’s my parents getting called to leave, or my little bother, Ash. I know things will start to become stricter due to the Resistance fighters, me being one of them, which have been trying to get through the Muranowska Pokorna Wall. The number of German soldiers to barricade walls has increased. With the hundreds of us that attempted to escape through the wall, I was lucky I wasn’t killed and was able to get away without the Germans knowing I was part of the resistance. I know my family couldn’t handle losing me now. Both my parents are weak and they know that there time to be sent to the concentration camps is coming soon. I just hope it’s me who leaves before them. I don’t think I could take care of ash on my own. I don’t think I could make the situation we’re in seem any better than how it really is. He’s seven years old, but he’s had to grow up a lot faster than most seven year olds his age, everybody in Warsaw has. Tonight was the last night I will be staying in Warsaw, or at least that is what I am hoping for. It took a lot for my family to understand my decision to be part of the resistance. But they respect my choice now. I know it is selfish, and I know it won’t be easy. But I can’t hide anymore, I can’t wait around to be killed. I want to fight back even if it means maybe leaving behind the thing I love most in the world. The fights are

Junior year was pretty much back to normal. I was now accustomed to the new people, new faces, new teachers, and new surroundings. I really enjoyed taking my second year of chemistry, precalculus and biology while I did not enjoy American Cultural Studies. I am more of a science/math person, not so much history and english and two straight hours about history was not exactly what I looked forward to every morning. I got through it though and enjoyed after school more.

“Alright fellas, has anyone else got something to say to Shane Ferguson before he heads off to Mars.” Mr. Wright questions everyone as Shane will be gone from earth forever.

After seeing the monster I was I had got my answer to my question, that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember.When saw the monster I was, i had a new question that I was determined to find the answers to.Who am I and who had created this monster I see.

A human can last 3 weeks without food and one week without water yet, Louis Zamperini lasted 47 days on the open ocean with little food and water, along with his two comrades. Unbroken written by Laura Hillenbrand is the true story of an Olympic class runner named Louis Zamperini who gets drafted into World War II. He then gets in a plane crash while on the way to Palmyra and is stranded on a small raft with two other men, and is then taken as a POW on a small Japanese controlled Island. These are the horrors most hope to never face, and I can say that I would most certainly not make it through the first week without a mental breakdown.

I stood on the sidewalk in front of the Honolulu airport, by myself in a place I had never been before. I was surrounded by people and families busy collecting luggage and being picked up by shuttles and friends. People passed by looking at me sideways with wondering looks was I alone, did I need help.

It was my day off and I had nothing planned for today so I got up and made myself a cup of coffee. I ate breakfast and got ready to do for a jog, I looked outside and it was bright and sunny and about 70 degrees perfect of a nice run. After getting my shoes on I walked out the door and started jogging down the street. Not even 5 minutes of me running a back suv zoomed down the street and pull directly in front of me! My instinct was to run but my legs were locked in place and is an blink of an eye,two men got out of there car. Both of them were bald and had mustaches, they must have been twins because they looked exactly alike. Both men were in all white suits and black cowboy boot, one of the guys walked forward and put out his hand with a little card in it. “Take it,” he said in a deep voice and I did and both of the men slowly got back in there car and the suv zoomed off. I glanced down at the card and it was black paper with red wax holding it to getter. It looked like it was going to bite my hand off but I opend it and in cursive it read “you have been invited to the world's best party, there would be food, drinks, and balloons” then it showed and address but no name or anything! I assumed it was my boss and he hired some guys to come and bring it to me. See, I work for the world's largest bank and my boss is one of the richest people in america and my job is too fix and repair the vault door and me and 5 other people know the vault door access code so my job is very important. I decided to head home and pick out a suit for the party.