Short Story : My Secret Life

“Madison Carter! I know you were the class clown! Don’t try to fool me!” my husband Johnny Flash yelped. I rolled my eyes, I didn’t have time to argue, I had to get ready.

One day I was on my way home from basketball. My dad had told me that my mom had taken my grandpa to the hospital. She had taken him because he was having bad stomach problems. No one really thought a thing big of it.

It all started when I was the new girl in sixth grade at Thomas Jefferson Middle School. It was the third day when I first came in and I didn't know anybody. I had math in 8th period and I sat next to Becca. The first time I talked to her is when I needed a pencil and asked her to borrow one. It was really awkward at first because we didn't know each other and we were both really shy. Later, me and Becca started talking a little more everyday from “This class is boring” to “Sit next to me at lunch”. After me and Becca started talking more we started to realize we have almost every class together. We then started to partner up when we could for partner projects. Then we were pretty much good friends

In the beginning of the story Meg was very odd. Meg was not the smartest, she got in fights, she talked back to her principal, and didn’t think she was anything. She was called unintelligent, but she really was. Meg also talked back to her principal, she was unattractive, had curly hair. Meg thought that she was nothing, because she was unaware of what she really is, and her brother Charles Wallace is brilliant, but didn’t like to talk outside the family so Meg would defend him and she would get in fights. She just didn’t give herself enough credit.

The reason i am writing about this is because it shows no matter how big someone can smile or how hard they can laugh they will always have a past good or bad that not a lot of people know or could even imagine. The experiences I had with my mom and the life I lived with her wasn’t so easy and I am very grateful to be out

I have always loved stories. I love to read them, write them, and tell them. The telling part, though, quickly became a problem for me as a little kid because I ended up labeled a “compulsive liar.” But in my 5-year-old mind, I wasn’t lying, I was telling the more interesting version of what had happened. When I was six I wrote my first “book”. It was ten chapters and ten pages long and told the story a king who lost his jewels and hired a pair of ninja-detectives to recover them. When I was eight I wrote a memoir – although I didn’t know what a “memoir” was at the time – about a recent trip to Tuscan, Arizona. However, it wasn’t until the fifth grade that I really started writing short stories. The first one I wrote was about a town in Australia ruled by an

Early morning towards the end of June last year, it was family rodeo back home where my mom grew up at. We had always gone back to that town and that rodeo since i was a yee young lad, around 5 or 6. We used to go see my grandma, but she died when i was 10. Anyways, it was my mother, my brothers, sister and her family, me and my girlfriend. Well, the car we were suppose to drive 5 hours north with was very cramped for all of us, so i asked my girlfriend if we could borrow her new car she just bought the day before. She “talked” to her mom and her mom said “yes,” so her and I drove in that car while my brother and mom and their friend drove the other.

In this essay, I will let you in on a few secrets about who I am. I am Lauren. This is part of my story.

“Annie, come on. It’s not that bad!” my mom said, trying to convince me to cheer up, be happy,, and have a positive attitude, but not doing a great job at it.

A little over two years ago, I finally saved up enough money from working part-time to afford a new computer. Before that, I had the computer my parents got me for my 16th birthday, which was around 3 years old then. The computer they got me wasn’t the best, but of course it was better than nothing and got the job done. I’m definitely very appreciative of that. Now, the computer I got myself I didn’t personally build, but I used a website called CyberpowerPC to choose all of the hardware and pre-installed software myself. I was still fairly new to that sort of thing then, so I had to use Google a lot to research all of the different hardware options: what they meant, what the differences were, and so on. The parts I chose

The summer of my sophomore year, my alcoholic mother hit rock bottom and entered a rehab facility to better herself. Frustration and confusion masked my face not knowing if my mom will get better or not. I will never forget the day walking my drunk mother into the rehab facility while she was hugging and crying on my shoulder saying “I love you Kenzie, I am going to get better”. Today I realize that this experience has influenced my personal identity as well as my education ambitions.

They ask me to write down my race, And I think and I think, I am so much more than that. I am the pounding rain in a thunderstorm The stunning sight of fireworks I can bring peace and joy Or fear and annoyance

“Wahoo, I’m freeeeee”, I shouted waiting for a response. But all I got was dead silence. I was truly home alone, no one was here except me. “Ccc-r-r-eek”. “What was that,” I said, shivering with fear. “Brr-r-r-r-r-r, I-it’s c-c-cold in here,” I said.

Sorry I'm just now getting in the conversation. We have been in Iowa with our friends for our annual 4th fish fry at the river house. No data connection and very little cell signal. Kinda nice when you think about it.

The voice in my head, normally so calm and controlled, was screaming at me to run. That was exactly what was going through my five year old mind when I walked around the hallway corner to see my mother being beat to her death by my biological father, Brax Magnus. As I tried so hard to stay and defend my mom, I could not help but panic and so I ran. I ran so far until I seen a small gas station. I went inside to find a phone, but realized I did not know who to call. The cashier, seeing that I was crying and looked panic, walked over to me.