Personal Narrative-Hyperact Or Fiction?

I saw my father, young and determined, working at the crack of dawn in the brickyard, while my mother stayed home to childproof their small apartment. Using the potent mixture of caffeine and chemicals contained in Mountain Dew, he was able to resist the urge to doze off during his daily classes. I saw myself running around the large oak tree that dwarfed our first house, and couldn’t help but smile as I thought about my mom, pregnant with my sister, walking me to the library to play with the puppets and pick up books about my favorite dinosaurs. I saw the terrifying night that the oak tree was stuck by lightning, and heard my mothers voice over the phone at school, eagerly telling me about my new baby brother. My stream of consciousness was broken as we entered the scorching area where they bake the bricks, but I quickly zoned out again as my grandpa began to explain the technical aspects of brickmaking. This time, the memories took place in a new house, as our cozy home had turned claustrophobic with the addition of a fifth member. Quiet walks to the library were replaced with chaotic days at the pool. The cards began to pick up speed, as I got deeper into my life. The dark years of middle school, when my hair covered my eyes and I

As I stepped into the mud room to take off my bright pink rainboots, I knew something was not normal. As I glided onto the sleek wood floors to grab a crunchy after-school snack, I hear my mom descend down the carpeted stairs slowly, becoming aware that this will not be a normal “how was your day at school” conversation. I raced to the cabinet to grab my fix of Goldfish and I sat down on the floor to get a little snuggle time with my dog before my world was turned upside-down.

My phone’s alarm went off early in the morning; I let it play a little more as the alarm was my favorite song. Instead of being cranky by the alarm, I bumped to it. The birds chirped from all angles, the neighbor’s dogs barked at each other, while he was too busy mowing to lawn. But, I was in a terrific mood anyway. The blinds, slightly open, let bright sun rays hit my floor, while the A/C blasted. I slowly got up, and let out a loud yawn. Bones cracked at every single body joint. The pleasing aroma of coffee and the savoring smell of eggs filled up my nostrils. I put both feet down, and head to the pull-up bar where I hang on it for a few seconds, stretching out my spine. I turn my head toward the calendar to make sure today was the day. Indeed it was, reading the month of July with 2008 written in big, bold letters. Butterflies filled up my stomach with goosebumps everywhere.

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

The next morning a young boy woke up startled by his mother shaking him and telling him to get up. She said they were leaving and Ben didn’t know why they were leaving, but he trusted his mother. He got up and followed his parents to where everyone else was standing. Ben wondered why everyone was wanting to leave. He thought about all the fun times he had had there with all of his friends. Running around, playing tag, and swimming

It was the Saturday before the last week of first grade and my family and I were attending a kickstart into summer barbecue at Scott Shaw’s house. Accompanied by my mother, father, brother, and my father’s 20 plus mountain biking, “crunchy granola” friends and spouses, we all arrived with summer’s approaching warmth on our faces. Everyone shoveling food into their mouths, playing ping pong, pool and swimming, everything was going smoothly.

Sunlight leaked from the small hole in the wall. Unlike the ridiculously good weather, ear piercing- screaming, devastated crying and wicked laughter caused goosebumps on Soon-Young’s arms. She lazily rubbed her eyes. Her whole body felt sore- her muscles ached painfully each time she attempted to stand up. Soon-Young blinked her eyes. She wished that she was experiencing a vivid hallucination after what she saw. She realized she wasn’t in home.

Percival, age seven, had been ill for a few days with a sore throat and fever, but woke early that morning feeling a little better. “Get a little more sleep,” he recalled his mother saying. “By tomorrow, you’ll feel all better.”

It was a very hot day in the middle of August, one that was so oppressively humid that the air felt like a blanket, which was why Lillie Everette, momentarily confused, awoke because she remembered kicking the sheets off her bed in the middle of the night. She yawned, then got dressed excitedly. She needed get ready for the Hide and Seek game that was starting soon. She had promised her friends that she wouldn’t sleep through this one like she had for the last game. She was about to run through her front door when she hears her parents talking.

Sleep is elusive, only gracing her with shuteye after hours of tossing and turning. When the rays of sunlight trickle into her tent, she rolls onto her stomach and closes her eyes with the hopes of dozing off. The rest of the camp is awake and bustling, dashing her plan to rest her eyes once more. With an angry huff, she rouses herself, gathers her clothes and sleeping bag and stuffs them into her

I remember how the flowering day of April 18th 2001, blossomed into not only the most life-altering day of my life, but also the worst day of my childhood. It was early in the afternoon at school when a recurrent knock whacked the wooden door packed with the fine-looking visual artwork of my kindergarten class. My teacher halted her instruction to ajar and answer the door, and when she saw who it was requesting her presence she immediately stepped outside of the room door to speak with that person in a remote manner…moments later, my teacher retraced hers steps back into the classroom, granted me her salutations and called me for dismissal.

The blankets were rough against my skin, the other children’s feet smelt like sweaty boots, the clock’s ticking was just loud enough to be a nuisance, and on that day I knew I do not like napping

The condensed snow under my feet was crushed with every step. The snow was around four inches deep, my boots made a large enough indent, that I made a noticeable trail of holes with every step. The sun had vanished behind a mountain, the sky’s light had gone from an amiable orange, to a mellow blue. I could see outline of the moon between two clouds, and the air’s bite grew colder by the moment. I had taken a detour, past a thin slice of trees near to my neighborhood. Even for a forest, it was a cold, silent place. I used to come out to places like this as a kid, quiet places where I would sit and be alone for hours. I guess I forgot how often that was, but for the moment, I had something else to worry about.

It was not often that I had a few hours to slip away and return to that beloved spot under my favorite pair of trees. That day I had packed my hammock, a thermos full of jasmine tea, and the book that had been gathering dust on my shelf for months. I hopped in my car and drove the relaxing forty-seven minute journey (I had narrowed it down to the exact minute since I had driven there so many times). I stepped onto that familiar turf wearing my favorite jacket; it was a little more brisk than most would consider to be the perfect autumn afternoon, but I disagreed. The crisp, dry air was refreshing, cleansing. I needed to clear my head.

The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning