Essay on The Day I Don´t Remember: A Narrative Fiction

A saying i've kept to myself is to get back up when knocked down. This saying doesn’t just stand for getting up when literally knocked down but can keep a deeper meaning than what it says as for example being knocked down by a difficult obstacle to overcome and getting up to find a way to get past it and achieving it. Some people may not see this as something important but they don’t think about how getting up after knocked down can be something that can or would have been like a positive outcome into their life and how they are given two choices when knocked down which is to stay down or get back up and continue going forward.

Often times we find ourselves thinking about the past only to try to force the memories away and return to our current delusion. We can never erase the past, but if the past is who we are, then should we just welcome pain back into our lives? Embarrassment, guilt, and pride betray us as we choose to bury our darkest memories in our head and look to a positive future without ever having to readdress them and acknowledge that they had ever happened in the first place. Thinking back now my weakest moment caught me by complete surprise.

I dazed off, not listening to him, just thinking of how miserable I would have been if I had been captured that day. It all started when I overheard something about slaves running up North. I knew about the North Star, and something about the first call of a quail.

My feet, without any cloths to protect them were bloody and covered in sores from rubbing against sharp stones. Like some of the horrible bed sores one of my many brothers had gotten years ago. At least that is how I am picturing them in my mind, as couldn’t see them in this light, or lack of. My feet ached, hunger pains were beginning to rise, my head, with such intense pain and that awful, awful feeling that I was not alone. I could feel the hairs on my neck stand as the eerie buzz of silence screamed in my ear. Unconsciously my slow pacing of the perimeter broke into a full speed run.

After 13 years at a private, Christian school, walking onto campus each morning begins to feel like stepping in front of the camera with a mugshot placard reading, “Queer, Agnostic Socialist. Approach with Caution, Attack on Sight.” I’ve worn the sign proudly, refused to cover it up or put it away and even shoved it in peoples’ faces as a sort of challenge. As a boy twice my size confronts me in the doorway to class, I only turn my rainbow-painted cheek. Homophobic teacher? I’ll write and sign him a letter even after he’s gone. Rude questions about my identity slinging through the halls, and I’ll answer with a challenging smile.

My eyes suddenly open from the impact of pots and pans beating against each other, it was like fireworks exploding. I turned around to look at the clock it was only 3:00 in the morning, I sighed as I didn’t want to be awake this early in the morning. I stood up from the slab of concrete that I was sleeping on and looked around to see Madison still half asleep as she was looking around to see where the loud noise had come from.

Randy looked at the other men, he nodded towards them, “Yeah we need medical help can you and your doctor come with me?”

Time flew by fast and before I knew it the season was almost over and it was senior night. All of the seniors went to school wearing our matching shooting jerseys and ready for the big night. We got to come to the game late because the underclassmen were setting up the game for us and decorating. Each senior had their own poster hanging on the stands for everyone to see. When I first walked in my name was on the ground in calk with my number and it said, “we love our goalie.”

“Yeah I got the whole doctor blah blah deal. Why are you whispering though?” I asked trying to get him to say something. What he said though surprised me.

"Miss, you cannot go in there." The receptionist stops me. Her hand flies up, freshly manicured, and pushes against my chest. My heart sinks. I can see him trembling as the stretcher disappears from my view, Tommy had another episode.

“We aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.” Nothing in the room was untouched by the artificially fluorescent lights. They gave off a low pitched hum as a distant vacuum would; far off sounding, yet close enough to feel the vibrating whines. Neck lying stiff, my eyes wandered around the room, searching. The intravenous saline crystalloid solution. The well worn, heated blanket sprawled over my legs. The biological waste disposal. All foreign. Covered by a glassy, teary filter, my line of vision eventually fell onto the man who had spoken to me. I took note of his pristine, white coat, perfect. It made my skin prickle.

I stared in horror – that wall was stained with gruesome blood stains. What the smell was became all too obvious and I felt the need to vomit… that motion put away and forgotten in an instant when the shuffling of feet rustled behind me. Panic. I turned around in a blur, my eyes huge and watering. My stomach stirred in the slightest. A lamp? Indeed, a tall standing lamp radiated a warm light only a few metres in front of me. Was it real or a figment of my abused mind? Curiosity would get the best of me, lending me a tiny spurt of energy to boost me on my feet. Teetering footsteps led me forward cautiously, random tremors reminding me of my weakness. The lamp was close enough to touch, its friendly warmth the only hope in the world to me. Basking in it for some slow seconds, I wondered, maybe there were more things in the room that hadn’t been revealed to the naked eye? Turning sharp on my heel, I let out a blood curdling screech as I came face to face with the most horrific thing I had ever seen. Huge fly-like eyes took in my paling complexion, and a lopsided smile of stinking razor sharp teeth mocked me. Rancid skin that looked like the algae layer that sat upon a swamp bubbled and oozed, trickling down a sharply shaped ‘face’. Flight or fight reaction chose the obvious option and I turned back again to run. Where, I did not

My First Memory- Personal Narrative I’ve had many memories during my lifetime, many good, and some bad. My

I remember one incredibly funny day from last year. It was the day I fell through the glass display case at school. Boy, I tell you that sucked so bad. I know for a fact I’ll never live it down. I’m known for being pretty accident prone so it was no surprise to people when they found out I was the one who had left the blood stain in the hallway.

Memories of a Personal Event The door slammed shut. I wasn't sure what I was going to hear. To be