Sister Told Me Narrative

“Mrs. Fisher, May I borrow this?” I would ask. “No, you may not.” would be her answer every time. No one understood, and I suppose that I still don’t completely get it

We were silent. Our eyes didn’t leave the board as the piece jerked back to the beginning. To A. Then stopped. We waited for the piece to point out the next letter, but it remained still. After three minutes, Rachel and Claire withdrew their hands. I felt them watching me. “It wants you to ask something,” Rachel said softly. “If by ‘it’ you mean Claire, I’m sure that’s true.” I stood up, shaking and nauseous. I was done. “I didn’t push it,” Claire said, wide-eyed as she looked at Rachel, then at me. “Pinky swear?” I asked, with sarcasm. “Why not,” Claire answered, with malice. She stood and walked closer to me. Too close. Her green eyes were dangerous. “I didn’t push it,” she said again. “It wants you to play.” Rachel grabbed my hand and pulled herself up off the floor. She looked straight at Claire. “I believe you,” she said, “but let’s do something else?” “Like what?” Claire’s voice was flat, and I stared right back at her, unflinching. Here we go. “We can watch The Blair Witch Project.” Claire’s favorite, naturally. “How about it?” Rachel’s voice was tentative, but firm. I tore my eyes away from Claire’s and nodded, managing a smile. Claire did the same. Rachel relaxed, but I didn’t. For her sake, though, I tried to swallow my anger and unease as we settled in to watch the movie. Rachel popped in the DVD and blew out the candles. Six months later, they were both

Stay away from me.” Yells Aaron as he ran into the arms of Jasmine, squeezing her tight and not letting her go. Sophie is speechless. Does Aaron know the truth of Katrina’s death,? Sophie wondered. Jasmine looked away and looked around the house that had once been a bright happy family home, all the experiences are now faded memories. “Why don’t we go get some fresh air,” Sophie asked Aaron. They both walk outside and sit down the lushes green grass. Sophie still holding Jasmine’s diary holded it tight in her hands staring deeply into thick brown cover, but she wasn’t just captivated by the book she was overtaken by the red blood finger prints that laid on the bottom left hand corner of the diary. Aaron looks at Sophie, then at the house and then back at Sophie. He grabbed the diary from Sophie and opened it. He flicked through a few pages till he reached the exact page that Sophie had read earlier, grabed a pen out of his pocket, took a deep breath and started to write something “I know you killed my

I’ve never told this story before. Not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed. I’ve put off telling it for so long because it terrifies me. It is a story of a time I lost complete control. It is a story of loneliness and isolation. By not recalling it, or writing it

Conquest of the Journey She walks to the centermost oak tree near Mason Hall, she finally has found the perfect shady spot on an 80-degree day. She passes the boy from her Psychology class and gives him a small smile. She’s taking a journey to a jungle she doesn’t normally observe,

Waiting in the courtyard with my band one last visit before they go off to college, a representative of the Emily Program walks towards me explaining what the procedure was. Knowing the other two would pay attention I look around at the surroundings and in the corner I notice an orange tree, I wonder if that is where Skylar sits when she gets a free period. A caramel hand slips into mine and I look up to see the pianist pulling me with the representative into the building. As we walk through the maze of corridors we stop at a room, or a jail. The gray room is eerie and as we step into the room we see Skylar, her frame dwarfed by the band shirt she’s wearing. Hearing the door open she looks up her face hollow and her eyes no longer hold the same sparkle. As my eyes catch hers the wish that I was stronger for her resurfaces, as if she can sense my thoughts she quickly raises and beckons me to her. Three strides and I hug her pulling her frail form into my body. Her bony hands hold me close. I feel her thin lips near my ear and her husky voice brushes against my earlobe, “You are so strong, I’m sorry sweetie I was weak”. I feel the guilt and self-loathing that has built up finally leave my body as I clung to her frame. Knowing that she never blamed me, I was finally able to accept my actions, as those of a child, a child scared and afraid to lose the person that meant the most

Olivia knows there won’t be enough food. She spoons white rice onto her family’s plates, leaving hers empty, and tops them with beef guisado stew, steeped in the flavors of peppers, tomatoes and a blend of Goya spices from the cabinet. Her three children sit eagerly at the dinner table.

Personal Narrative Everything was so dandy and swell until the day that my sister came home with a C on her report card. I always looked up to Hailey and wanted to be as smart as her until that day. Back in the 3rd grade started the chain of events that would soon shape the guarded self conscious girl I am today.

The moment a man told me to give him ‘all the money in the till!’ with a gun pointed between my eyes, I did something very few people have ever done before – and ever will do.

Her small green eyes glance up into her rearview mirror. The whites of her eyes have turned a pale red and the apparent vividness of them has grown dull due to hours of crying. The air is hot and musty from the small black car’s hours of sunbathing so the cold air blows steadily onto her tear stained face. Her eyelashes are stuck together and her dark hair is plastered to her head as if she had just came up for air in the water. She cranks up her music to drown out the shallow breaths escaping her weak body. Her mind persistently repeated one thing. “Why.”

“Mother stop you’re being very unreasonable.” I say to my mom fuming with anger. “Adelaide, I cannot believe that you would go against everything I’ve been trying to teach you.” I watch as the hot, salty liquid falls down the disappointed cheek of my mom. It leaves behind a trail of tears that glimmers under the sun when she moves her face. “Mother, I love you, but I also love Oliver. I don’t understand why I can’t have both.” The look on her face changes from a disappointed and sad face to an angry, malicious face. “Are my ears deceiving me? You did not just tell me you love that boy.” She watches as the color drains from my face as I realise what I had just admitted to not only her, but also myself. My mother quickly reaches up and wipes

“Sister Abda, would like to talk to you about her brother,” said Yasir. Tank thought her request was going to carry him into yet another place that made him uncomfortable. Ever since he arrived people came wanting him to pray for them or a loved one. From near the door, an

Larry's sitting in the back of the squad car wishing he was anywhere but there. Why won't they believe me? Why won't anyone believe me? He thinks, leaning his head against the window. "Are you warm enough back there?" One of the officers ask. "Yeah." "So why did you do it?" The second

At the time I only thought to torture her. I tried everything that I could think of. I pulled her hair. I called her crude names whenever I saw her. I even told her I wished that she were dead. But she would never listen to me; she would just turn her cheek.

My reflection was pensive as I stared at the window. I found myself sitting in homeroom. The lights were dimmed with only the soft disturbance sound of scratching pencils and tapping rain. My notebook was opened, and on a page, I had sketched the house I had seen on Friday.