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Personal Narrative: Wrong With Grandma

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“Trang! Come up here, right this instant! It’s Grandma, she’s--” My mother’s panicked voice was cut off by a series of incoherent mumbles. My sister’s head snapped back, and after a heartbeat of stunned silence, she rushed up the stairs. “I’m coming! What’s wrong with Grandma?” My mother began to choke out a reply, but the sound soon spluttered out. I heard a faint thump, and then, nothing. The house had gone deathly silent, as if holding its breath. By now, I had realized that something was seriously wrong. My mind raced through all of the possible scenarios; escalating until I abandoned my school assignment and dashed after my sister. For a brief moment, I wondered if my footsteps had ever been this loud--they seemed to reverberate against the creaky stairs. The silence, I figured, was getting on my nerves.…show more content…
Suddenly, I felt a multitude of emotions well up inside of me: regret, shock, dread, trepidation. My mother and sister stared at my grandmother’s lifeless body, each lost in their own world. Their movements were stiff--robotic, even--as they carried my grandmother back into her room. Wordlessly, I walked forward and tapped my sister on the shoulder. “What happened?” I whispered. My sister shot me a heated glare. “Get the phone. We’re calling an ambulance.” I thought to ask about my grandmother’s condition, but quickly decided against it. Instead, I rushed into my room and grabbed the small, antique device. My sister followed suit, and promptly snatched the phone out of my hands. “Go tidy the living room,” she hissed. “I’ve got this.” I nodded,
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