Personal Narrative: Where Is My Hero?

Why would you get something like that? Never mind it is pretty cool. Even though its like 100 feet tall!!! I thought you guys were just going to the store and you came back with a mosterice truck! Is that what took you 5 hours? You are the best step dad ever! This is my step dad troy but his real name is adam but he doesn't like that name. That is why we call him troy. He is always getting stuff for him hos self or one of us. When he buys the stuff he doesn't tell so it is always a surprise.

Now we couldn't see anything. It was hard to breathe. Me and my friends were all next to each other trying to find our way back. It was impossible because we couldn't see which way we were going. One of my friends said ¨I can't breathe!¨ all of us said it's ok we're gonna make it. Then my friend died in front of all of us. My friends started to die one by one, I saw them all die right in front of me. Then I realised that I wasn't gonna make it, so I started to cry because all my friends were dead, and I was about to die. Then someone came to me and said ¨Can you breathe.¨ But it was too late. As the guy came I suffocated to death. Well, I thought I was, but then I woke up in my house. I thought I was dead. It turned out that the guy saved me somehow. I don't know how he did, but he did. Everything was back to normal except for the fact that my friends

It has been two years since you passed. It has been a year since I unearthed your vacant coffin with Oskar. Yet, it has been less than a second since you came to my mind. A day has yet to pass where I do not ponder of you, imagine you. I have seen pictures and heard stories of you, yet it always pains me that I could not have a place within them. I know nothing of you, my own child. In fact, I cannot call you, Thomas Schell, mine. There is nothing of me in you, and that will always be my deepest regret. If I had two lives, I would spend them both with you, as if that would somewhat compensate for the unjust life I forced upon you. A life without a father. Though, a boy need-not be raised by man, when a woman as sturdy as your mother is in place. I

I was playing with my super hero figure when my dad walked by me, he was headed into the kitchen. He looked my way and continued toward the fridge, grabbing some freshly cut peaches from the contained they sat in. My mom had just cut those today, she specifically told me to wait till dad eats some before I can get some.

In drama, story telling, myths, a religious ritual, psychological development and even in life there's a hero's journey. The hero's journey is basically multiple steps describing the adventure of “The hero”. A hero to me is someone who has courage, who did something amazing, someone you can look up to. Even though I am not a typical hero there are times when my life follows the hero's journey with archetypes such as the herald, loyal companion , threshold guardian.

The bittersweet defines me. These moments seem to chase me, to tear me down and build me back up. It was in Hyderabad, India. A city filled with the earnest cries of chaiwalas urging you to buy their steaming teas, the exuberance and chatter of countless people as you walked down the worn streets, the occasional herd of buffalos that seemed to give you judgmental side glances, but at that moment it felt empty. Thirty-two hours left—our flight was leaving back to Alabama.

As we stepped off the plane, there was an immediate rush of warm air when we took the stairs down to the tarmack. After the five hour plane ride in the cold, small plane, it felt nice to stretch out in the sun. We walked off of the tarmack onto the sidewalk that led to the parking garage and were immediately greeted by a kind man. He welcomed us to his country and directed us towards the correct direction. As we left him behind, he shouted “pura vida” to us. This was the first time I ever heard this phrase and I had no idea what it meant.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Alayne Karola Voss, she was a loving mother a dedicated worker and a woman who spent her life helping others.” The crowd was silent as the child of the deceased stood in the sand surrounded by loved ones. Many people came to pay tribute to the woman they adored, her body now severed from her soul and turned to ash. “My mother as all of you know a would not want today to be a day of tears and longing but rather a day of remembrance and joy. A day to gather and think of all the times you shared with her, good and bad.” A few small smiles spread throughout the blanket of black, as the waves washed up on the shore the woman dearly loved.

Driving over 1,700 miles is not the most enjoyable thing to do; especially when you’re moving. It’s not so rough when you have time to stop and sightsee. But when your truck and a moving truck are full of household and personal items sightseeing is out of the question. That means stopping and stretching legs comes when a truck needs to be filled up and windows washed. The nice thing about having a teen driver is they get to experience the “thrill” of driving across country on roads and highways that are not jam-packed with cars.

I, as the hero of my story, have, is and will experience various stages of the hero’s journey listed by Joseph Campbell in his ‘Hero’s Journey Outline’. The experiences in the past helps me now to develop the skills necessary to face numerous challenges in my future. Me, as an IB student, in SJPII required a great deal of effort and courage. With the influence of my mentor, my parents, I crossed the threshold which separated my ordinary world from this special world. This transition, for me, was very hard as I am moving out from my safe world into a dissimilar, unknown world, which is a more challenging version of the reality. Furthermore, in this special world, my former presumptions and opinions were being questioned and torn apart. As I continued my education through Gr.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!” The school bell rings. Peter and I were playing football at recess when we heard the bell. We quickly rushed up the stairs to get to class. I was so happy to see back Peter in school after his sick leave. He looked happy and his attitude shone brighter than the sun. Even after what had happened to him about a month ago…

He longed to see what his touch would do against anything, but Jem wore gloves, and Alistair was scared.

A little advantage can go a long way, this advantage, though, is something else. It all started on February 3rd, a moment of peril, a scary moment, a generous amount of commas, a crash! A car crash! Well, almost. I was riding my skateboard like usual, casually moving along, when I saw a car! but then I noticed something, The car went from 40 to 0 without major impact on anything. Soda was coming out the window but suspended by gravity so I walked over, put the lid back on and, drank the remaining soda. I saved my skateboard and thought, "C'mon, go!" and time started again. "Wait what?" I asked myself in pure confusion. I used this power to take candy from the top of the fridge and cheat on tests, know typical boy stuff, heh heh. I felt like a kid in a candy store, with $100,000,000 that is. I was the happiest little boy until a thought pierced my skull like an inch wide drill. Somebody was going to find out, "Ooh look at that teleporting kid stealing candy" I also felt bad about all the candy I stole, and the stomach ache wasn't helping one bit. I went out despite what I did and thought about it. I apologised for what I did and I went out for a walk in the forest, I really wasn't thinking was I? No, probably not.

The announcer was counting down and all I could think to myself was, “Please don’t die.” Standing dead smack in the centre of a herd of men and women, all of which were whooping and hollering anticipating the starting pistol to go off. Yet, there I was, praying that my 3 months of training wasn’t going to let me down. 5 seconds to go; and there was no turning back, what laid ahead for all of us was 11 miles and 21 obstacles that were designed to test one’s mental and physical tenacity. It wasn’t a competition; it was a trial. “Here we go!” my best friend Aaron declares sportively with a nudge as the pistol goes off, and our Braveheart charge was underway.

My hero’s journey begun with my call to adventure to graduate high school and go on to college. When I was in middle school, I never would’ve thought that high school would be so different yet so similar to middle school. It was different because there was a lot more students and you pretty much had to be more mature about things, but you still had to work hard and earn your grade. My supernatural aid which helped me in class, were books and a pencil. Most of the knowledge we needed to understand the class was in the books, a pencil, to take notes and write essays and other written assignments. My crossing of the threshold will be when I graduate and go on to college to continue my education and earn a degree, but I wouldn’t be graduating if it wasn’t for the help I had. Some of the main people who helped me were teachers who helped me understand many subjects, and