Vulnerable: A Fictional Narrative

On January 3, 2009 around 11:00 PM the phone rang with what I thought was exciting news about my newly born sister, Tristyn ,but quickly turned to horror. I could heard the fright in my dad's shaken voice as he told me Tristyn had to go into immediate heart surgery because she needed a stent to open up the blood flow to her heart. Being eight at the time the only thing I could think about was how she might not make it. My dad said to me “look after your sisters, and tell them nothing about the surgery”, which terrified me more than before. I knew I needed to be brave and take charge of the situations for my sisters. Bravery is something I learned for a situation I never knew would happen.

I always say to my family, “One day we will cross la frontera!” Living in Guadalajara, Mexico was not for the faint of heart. My family didn’t have much money and it was hard watching them sleeping on dirt floors. Mama, Roberto, and Francisco deserved better that what they had. I always imagined us crossing over to the beautiful United States. I knew one day we would cross that border so my family could have a better life.

“What?” he barked as he finally turned towards her. As he loomed over her, standing at the foot of their bed, buried in his cellphone, she got her first good look at him for the day. She took in his ragged demeanor; his dirty worn out clothes too large for his scrawny frame. Through a tear in his pants she could see a cut on his leg, no doubt attained by begging on the streets of St. Louis. She never saw him do it anymore but there was no doubt in her mind that he had kept that habit, among others. His disheveled black hair was covered by a grimy nondescript

DisneyWorld. But while she was looking out the foggy window, her eyes glanced at the the stack of mail from the children’s hospital laying on the counter, her heart sank. She just wished that she could have a few more years with her son. She wished there was some hope for her sweet and kind-hearted boy. She became frustrated at how anyone could pick on someone so undeserving. Before she let her feelings ruin Nicholas’s trip, she rushed outside to take him to the happiest place on

"Hey, sleeping Beauty." He tiptoed into the room and stood above the prone woman, unsure if she were awake or asleep, drunk or napping. "You okay?" Stepping closer, he tapped her leg, but she didn't move., and an evil smile came over his face. "Didn't Daddy tell you not to drink?" He glanced over at his friends, and tapped his icy beer bottle against her face. "Hey bitch, answer me."

“Lovely!” He beamed, his hand sliding from her shoulder to her wrist. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, so we can talk.” Elena smiled and allowed him to navigate her though the crowd. Eventually she realized they were headed to an empty bedroom, to do what all wasted horny college students do. However, Elena, strangely enough, didn’t mind; the alcohol had put her at ease, silencing the anxiety that normally clawed at her thoughts.

"Command?" Desiree repeated the word with a bit of concern, "Will I be able to wake up on my own, or will I be stuck that way until you wake me?" she asked fear of being trapped in her own mind and possible nightmares echoed through her thoughts. Desiree didn't think she could handle being trapped there all alone.

The small car pulled into the driveway of the frat house. 8:15 was the time; the party was already started. Mark noticed his friends’ cars were there as he got out of his own and hurried to the door.

My story is an interesting one. The first major thing that happened to me was my family's move to Peru. I lived there for two years, from when I was seven to nine years old. I did learn to speak Spanish pretty well but sadly, I did not retain it for long after we moved back to the United States. Living there was a huge blessing to me, it taught me how to adjust to whatever life throws at you. Anyone who has ever moved knows it can be hard to readjust, but moving to another country teaches you how to adjust to almost anything. The second significant event that happened to me was my start of becoming a runner. Running taught me to be tough and to fight through the pain to become stronger and get to the finish line. Another event that has shaped

I pretended to read my book. For the past fifteen minutes, Nolan had been bothering me outside my window. He took advantage of the fact that my parents weren't home, yet. I didn't open the house door when he knocked, so he decided to come at my window, which was slightly ajar for ventilation, and he managed to stuck his head underneath it, not allowing me to shut the frame.

“It may not be a big deal to you because you’re not the one who has to give consent to end the life of the person who gave your life.”

At a certain point in people’s lives, time seems to stop and they become stagnant, almost as if they can’t progress any further. It’s at this point that they are given a choice to move forward, and at a young age I was also given that choice. When I was in elementary school, I was told by many people trying wouldn’t get me anywhere because I was naturally bad at many things. I was told that I had no talent and even if I did get better I couldn’t be compared to my peers. This idea didn’t seem right to me and I immediately questioned it, however for a long time I let their words get to me. I remained one of the slowest runners in my grade, I had some of the worst grades, and I thought it was just how the world worked. Although, I let their words affect me, I didn’t really believe them.

You see Jackie trusted that no matter what I did (big head) ―I would come home to her. This trust would become a trait I'd desire and exhibit throughout the rest of my journey. My regret is that the lack of understanding of how to properly use this trust cost me, Jackie. As I eventually tried a relationship with an upper classmate. By the time I realized the importance of that trust trait to my growth in manhood, life had moved forward — Masculine Vulnerabilities.

Alex looked at her, a look of horror on his face. “You’ve known from day one, haven’t you, my dear Alice?” He looked mortified, and a faint rumble was heard outside the restaurant. “I’m sorry, but I do wish you a happy unbirthday, since I do think it might be your last…”

What is heroism? Things preformed Superman, Batman, or The Flash? This is what most people think about when they hear the word hero or heroism. Although these characters show heroism, the definition of heroism does not have to be narrowed to the stereotypical hero. Many people have different concepts on heroism. A hero can be a ordinary person like a firefighter or cop. Heroism is a attribute that a person can obtain but they have to choose actions that help others like a fearless firefighter or cop helping others. Heroism also does not call for a reward for being heroic. Heroism is a quality or an act in all of us that a person uses to benefit for the good of other people even if there is a risk.