The Dumpster-Personal Narrative

Driving a car is not always what most teenagers think it is. Most beginning drivers drive uncontrollably because they think as if they are race car drivers. When I thought I was a race car driver, I drove without thinking, which cost me a trip in the ditch. You never realize how frightening a car wreck is until you experience one.

Today was the day that I was going to meet the man who ruined my life. the man who I had searched for for my life, the man who killed my father.

It wasn’t as if I had much of a choice. Actually there was, but this would settle things once and for all. Although, there were assurances, from the legal team of the best criminal attorney’s in the country, that there was nothing to worry about, a small chance is still a chance. I did discharged a firearm and my father did thrashed Gilbert something awful in front of witnesses, and my father did take over Tilley pharmaceutical in a wonderfully barbaric corporate takeover. What did work in my favor was me constantly speaking out at every opportunity the reason for my anger.

The most important game of the year was coming up and I was ready. Everything was going perfect for me, because I was the starting QB as a freshmen at Englert High School. We were playing Joston High School the number 1 team in the nation since 1960, it was going to be a tough game because they had the number 1 ranked defense, but we had the best offense. The day before the game was just a normal day I went to school and had football practice after school. A couple weeks ago one of the other teams that we had played earlier in the year wanted another game so we decided to play them. They had been the hardest team we had played all year, we had only beat them by a last efforts field goal it hardly went in as it bounced in off the crossbar.

Not that I wasn’t happy with the choices that had led me to this point in my life, but I knew that I was destined for greater things than a “Doc on a Boat”; another nameless enlisted member of the naval medical community serving three years of sea duty on a constantly revolving door of new check-ins and farewells. Working long hours on little sleep and crappy food is what boat life is all about. You are united as a crew by what is affectionately known as “The Suck”; a general catchall term that you can blame any and all problems on and one that you signed on for by receiving orders to a boat. Now there are three types of people that I encountered, those that love and are borderline addicted to the suck, those that tolerate the suck for the

All I could fit in my only small bag was a few clothes and a toothbrush and all my parents

I felt someone rubbing my arm softly. When I opened my eyes, I was on the couch with… Katy was snuggled up against me and held my arm in place as I tried to move it from cradling her. Oh, but the man’s deep harsh voice that now rattled my brain had me frozen in place and in pain. Katy covered most of my face being in front of me as we spooned, but I could see (who had to be her dad) on the wall size TV looking at the two of us huddled closely together.

What thoughts have I tonight as I walk emptied handed and no one to be arm in arm with as I navigate the LA streets. I envy the young man wiping out on his skateboard. Look at the concern on the young woman’s eyes. She looks on with a frown. Still, he makes her laugh with his imitation of the Zombie’s walk. How much happiness is contained in the rivulets of his blood that hardens along the shin of his wounded kneecap?

It is early October, the final weekend of the mountain biking season at Northstar Ski Resort. I am waiting to load my bike onto the lift. There are long lines for everything, because the place is packed. Riders rocket down the mountain, sending cinnamon colored dust into the air. A breeze blows this across the hills. The trees are green, and the afternoon sun warms the ground. The time of day makes it a bit chilly. The metallic noise of bikes can be heard, but not always seen. The sound of both joy and pain fills the air around me. I can smell only the wonderful scents of trees and overpriced food. I suddenly feel a nudge on my shoulder.

Far in the distance, rain is falling. The water crashes into the window like enemy soldiers at the gates. Inside the station, tears are streaming down her face. Her clothes are soaked in blood, mud, and water. She can feel the water holding her down while the blood takes away any sense of safety. The detective sits quietly across from her. He has not said anything for the past thirty minutes. He has nothing to say, and on the rare occasion that a question comes to his mind, it is answered by either weeping of silence. The blood, mud, and water are drying on her blouse. With every lightning strike, she hears the piercing crack of the slugs breaking through the sound barrier and into her husband's stomach. She feels a pain shoot through her chest. She sobs harder. She cannot bring herself to say anything more. The blood has seeped through her shirt and clings to her, like he used to. His final

He was sitting in a squeaky leather chair. He wanted to bounce or rock, but he hated the noise the chair made. Gilbert tugged at the strands of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. The lights on the ceiling hurt his head. He could hear his father's voice in the hallway, along with Ludwig's small cries. White bits of hair tangled in his fingers. Gilbert's father was whispering to the nurse, gesturing to Gilbert, and keeping Ludwig from eating her hair.  Gilbert stared down the hallway, playing with his fingers as he listened.

One of the double doors to the Libra office flung open. Klaus came through holding the door for Leo as they entered together. Gilbert on the other hand vanished upon arriving at the building, which seems to be his typical thing. The brunet turned his head to the left where Chain and K.K were both near the leader's desk waiting for them. Chain turned around meeting the boy's eyes, hiding a grin that was probably pointed at him, surely believing that she won the bet. K.K, however, looked quite irritated. Something must have been on her mind because in truth she looked quite scary.

It sounds like you took a good, hard thrashing from Richard on Saturday. I was laying it on good and hard by the end of your thrashing, so it's great to hear that Richard did start off at that level and that you took it well. How was the first dozen, Andy? ​ I really struggled with the first dozen. However I had made my mind up to be as manly as I could about them, no matter how much I struggled as I wanted to prove to Richard that I am really making progress. The first dozen is always a real challenge to take. It has to be, if the thrashing is being laid on with the appropriate severity. You clearly set yourself up well mentally, as you were focused on taking it like a real man and proving that you could do just that.​ Richard said that the strokes clearly needed to be harder from the off and he was determined to push me as hard as he

It was the same way with the traveling circus, I never liked circuses. Nowhere in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine joining the circus until 2 years ago. But I did anyway, for the same reason I got on the train car.

When you look at the brick that is The Mime Order, you’re bound to be intimidated. Intimidation festers into stress which then turns into my favourite pastime—feigning ignorance. AKA pretending that it doesn’t exists until the very last second, further perpetuating stress levels and ensuring bounteous hair loss (how I still have hair is beyond me. My babies fall out like I’m a shitzu and it’s shedding season come early.) Against all odds (or perhaps not, I’ve been known to look past info dumping), I adored The Bone Season to bits. The world was delectable, albeit fed in plentiful doses. The characters delightful tragic, dark and mysterious. The circumstances dismal and layered in political lies. But a girl doesn’t forget info dump, not such