Two Events-Personal Narrative

I have lived in only one location my entire life: Edwardsville, Illinois. A peripheral suburb of St. Louis, it stands as the rare oasis of people in a desert of corn, pinned in its own personal bubble. Due to this blend of time and isolation, I developed a natural familiarity with my hometown. But, throughout my childhood, I longed to break free from the confines of the bubble and venture outward. However, this changed last summer, as I walked through Richards Brickyard, our family heirloom, that my great-grandfather, Benjamin Richards, founded over 120 years ago. I felt these childlike sentiments slip away. The bubble that had surrounded me for so long began to vanish, and the picture that it had been obscuring was slowly revealed.

In the beautiful blue water I grab the rope and swim to the end of it. Then, the boat starts to move so I pull myself up. Now, I was standing on the Wakeboard gliding across the water. Then suddenly there were waves right in front of us, and we were headed straight for them and I said to myself, “ oh crap”. I still was standing when the waves crashed into my board, but the last wave turned my board sideways and my face hit the water very hard and my face felt like it was split apart, and my family said it looked like

The wet tiles that were beneath my feet felt cold, and moist. The locker room was filled with the sound of scalding water slapping the tile floor harshly. The room felt hot and humid like a summer day in Florida. I could feel my anxiety burning within me, in the same way a fire burns down a forest. It grows profusely worse as the second hand on the clock above my locker ticks away. I quickly changed into my swim trunks, and crept into the swimming area with fear and anticipation. I tiptoed my way down the stairs that led into the pool. I could feel the brisk water slowly creep up my leg as I forced myself deeper and deeper. I was on my way to my mother who was going to try and teach me how to do a back float. I remember tipping

That was a lot of money, and I didnt want to let Tony down so I got in the car and started to drive. As I drove the road was empty. I had confidence I was not going o get caught. It was a slightly wormer day out witch might have been because the sun was out. I had the windows down and was blaring music just trying to enjoy life when a cop pulls out behind me.

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

When I was extended seven feet above the ground, I knew we had succeeded. My two bases were in front of me and my backspot was behind me. I heard the familiar counts of my backspot “one, two, three, four”, I bounced and pushed myself up into my bases waiting hands, “five, six, seven, eight”, I straightened as my bases lifted me up to chest level. I locked my knees and stayed tight. I put on a smile and looked ahead. I felt my backspot release her hold on my ankles. I heard her voice once again, “extension, one, two, three, four”, I brought my hands down to my sides and focused on staying tight as I slowly rose, “five, six, seven, eight. I was all the way up. Then a few moments later I heard the counts as they brought me to chest level then back down to the ground. We had done it, we had hit the stunt and did an extension.

It was a cool November day, in the middle of Afghanistan. As a medic, I was sitting outside my make shift aid station with one of my buddies sharing stories about home. We hear a loud explosion right outside of the wire. I looked up and could see the cloud of smoke billowing up from about two hundred meters away. Not knowing how bad the situation was, I grabbed a few of my soldiers, our translator and my aid bag and ran straight to the smoke. When we got there, a group of civilians were huddled around a group of people who were yelling, screaming and crying. The translator found out that a group of three men and three children were walking around a field when one of the children stepped on a mine. One of my soldiers grabbed the mine

Hey, man! What's up? I'll tell you this, there are a lot of things that I

To me there is more than one danger of giving someone a single story, it’s more than not seeing their full identity it's diminishing all of their accomplishments, hardships, specialties, and everything that makes an individual, individual. True in my life I have not been innocent of doing that to multiple people, such as last week when my family and I were driving home from Memphis through Arkansas. I was feeling sick so we stopped at a truck stop that looked kind of rugged, so I was already feeling that as a black woman I should keep my wits about me (and the probable Trump supporters that would be inside) but I was feeling so sick that it wasn’t an overbearing thought. When I walked in and saw the white man with a camouflage snapback hat

One of the greatest life skills that you can attain is to always double check! I unfortunately had to learn this lesson the hard way. Even though obstacles come up, you can always learn from them. In this certain situation, my brother David and I thought that we did something when in reality we didn't.

About two years ago, my husband, my two sons and I lived in a small village, where we had our own farm that we took care of. My husband was a farmer, and we provided food that was sold to gain money. Our farm was prospering, and it did not seem like anything bad would happen. We spoke too soon. It was a tragic day; our crops wilted and died due to the dry, hot climate. With the loss of our crops, we could not make profit, so we did not have enough money to pay for our farm. In the end we lost everything. Luckily, we had enough money to rent land. This certainly was not the life I wanted for my family.

I began storytelling long before I could read or write. But it was only when I began writing that I realized how much more complicated crafting a narrative was than I initially thought.

The bright white screen fills the room as I hold the remote up to the TV. I flick continuously through the channels, hoping something will take my fancy. I pause on a breaking news story. The voice of a woman fills the air as she explains. ‘A runaway escapee and murderer last seen heading towards the South end of Australia has disappeared. Anyone in the areas of’, I reach for the off button as the mumbles of voices drown out as the TV turns off. I put the remote down and shut my eyes. The dark patterns and swirls fill the darkness as I fill my mind with the endless possibilities from some of the deepest parts of my mind. I replay the series of my day over and over in my head. Replacing the mistakes in the day and presenting myself with what

My eyes filled with hatred as I stepped foot in the bitter cold cabin and made eye contact with the man that betrayed my brother and I five years ago. And this is where I would be for the next five weeks.

I was on my way home from work the other day when I passed someone walking on the highway. It was raining and dark, so I turned around to see if he needed a ride. The stranger at first said no, but I kept on persisting and eventually he hopped in.