Writing A Personal Narrative

It was a normal chilly sunday on September 13th, 2015. My dad was in the garage with some of his friends watching the football game. It was the Dallas Cowboys vs. the New York Giants. My dad and his friends were making hot dogs and burgers on the grill but I don’t like those so I asked my dad if I could go to the store and get the ingredients to make taco dip. He handed me $20 and I headed off to the store with one of my dad’s friend’s son. The store was at the end of my street so it wasn’t a far walk.

Day One: Where to start? No one reading this diary is going to believe me. I still wish I lived in Oak City. Everything felt different when I woke up, I really thought it was going to be a normal day; you know, going to work, coming home, watching T.V.-just normal. It wasn’t until I looked outside…and… everyone was dead.

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

At the beginning of my freshman year I was attempting to develop motivation as well as seeking purpose and determining value. Whether in school or during sports or other activities and events in my life, I was constantly searching for motivation towards a goal or achievement.

I caused Greg to break his hand without any remorse at the time. Greg was a high school acquaintance who tended to bully me. He was significantly taller, stronger and more athletic; therefore physically bullying me wasn’t much effort for him. When I heard he was coming to work at the warehouse, I wasn’t particularly happy about it. The warehouse contained boxes from multiple suppliers. Some were really thick and some were really thin. They all contained books, though some were heavy text books while others were light weight paper backs. All workers with experience knew which boxes were heavy, which had thick soft cardboard as a box, and which were encased in thin cardboard. I waited until Greg stopped by with his working partner for

I grab the handle on the door frame, and pull my five foot self up into the driver's seat. Leaving the door open, I turn the key in the ignition. Doesn't start. "Try again." Daryl hooks his hand around the top of the door. I nod and twist the key forward again. This time it clicks for a few seconds, then starts right up. The purring of the engine enlightened the mood a bit. Tara jogs over to Rick. "The van works." "We have our transportation." Rick nods before signaling the rest over. "Want to get out of the city before dark, we'll find a spot in the woods to settle for the night and go from there." I made sure I was in the same car as Daryl, even if it meant not being in the same as Carl, but I need to comfort one of the biggest father figures

In the beginning of third grade was so exciting because I will get to see my friends. But when I got home my parents told me and my brother that we are moving. I was really excited at first because it was my first time moving.

Lets be honest here, I had no freaking clue what to write about. I can’t remember how many times this essay has changed. In the end, I thought I was happy with it, however, I am here editing it again. I can never tell it in a way that I am happy with it. Death is no happy subject though, and the events leading up to it is particularly dark. Let’s try this again, from the top!

The sky melted from a clear blue to creamsicle orange and pinks to a dark, starry navy. I could see the sun’s transition really well inside the little glass diner I worked at, Cosmo’s. The ceiling and walls were constructed entirely of glass, and blue lights made up the floor, giving the small diner a cold, lonely feeling. The booths were silver with pastel blue cushions, the tables silver with shimmery blue tablecloths, pressed under glass. The bar table, that enveloped me, silver with blue lights underneath the glass top, accompanied by tall, blue faux leather bar stools.

my studies. It was there that I would max out my library card to read

I was sitting in one of my friend’s basement, talking, laughing and messing around like we normally do. Because the July heat was almost unbearable, we are all going to the beach later. My friends and I do a lot together and we have been a group since about 5th grade. Also my family and I share everything with each other, and we really like each other unlike some families who hardly tolerate each other. I have lived a pretty good life so far. I get good grades during the school year. There is also a chance that I will play college basketball after my last two years of high school. My life is heading in a good direction, and the whole world seems on my side. Then I get the phone call and know that something is wrong and that my life was about

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

That dress combined with his suit could provide me with an enough money to pay my brother's medical bills and I would still have money left. My eyes followed the women as she sat down at the table with her husband. Hearing a clearing of throat coming from the jackass in front of me my eyes move to his face.

I couldn't remember for the life of me what I was running from but I kept hearing whispers saying over and over again you can't run from us we are what you know you are your not what you think you are you cant keep running as I ran I felt the cold air sharp as razors i finally gave in to weakness I feel to my knees and coughed up blood I looked up to the sky as the rain poured down I couldn't move my legs felt as if they were lead I could just sit there my eye wide with fear and filled with fear and regret I eventually was able to pull my self up to my knees and turn to face the horrid thing chasing me, even though I was once one I feared them more than I should fear the demon hunters, it was an angle, something I once was I was shaking in my boots no weapons no nothing to protect my self...the only hope I had was to pray to the Egyptians god I would be safe, if I even believed in them at this moment in time, I was lost with in my self with in my own secrets of my mind, before I could finish my thought I felt myself fly across the cold, hard, wet concert as my head made contact with a loud THUNCK!