Personal Story Essay

I was working in the fields with my mother, we were wearing our ripped and moldy clothes. Our lord called us over. He was in his big robe that he often wears, with a cup of ale in his hand. “Do you know why I keep calling you over, day after day?” he asked, “No.” my mom said confused. “No? Well I guess I need to remind you.” my mom looked frightened. “Your son has been doing more work than you do yourself!” he screamed fiercely. my mom stammered, “ I'm sorry but i-” “Two days,” he roared

Having to talk about myself and tell my story is as nerve wracking as jumping off of a cliff, and I hate heights so that says a lot. I love to listen to people's problems and stories. However, I do not enjoy sharing mine. Explaining to someone why you are the way you are can be an emotional subject and it can also be very intimidating. At least for me it is. In high school I was always known as the “mom” of the group. I never drank or did drugs and I was always the one to drive my friends home in

“What a day!”, Jennifer thought to herself with a half smile as she studied the reflection looking back at her in the bathroom mirror. Standing there in her tiny apartment, she wondered how she managed to get so fortunate. Every day seemed a gift but did not take them lightly or for granted. Everywhere she went these days, people nodded appreciative greetings or went all out with full compliments. Sure she always tried to look her best, but even as she studied her own countenance, she did not deceive

“Baby, please don’t go without me,” Delia said, as I got ready for my day out on the streets of Cebu City, which was my first solo outing. “I’ll be okay, Princess, I know where I am going. We’ve caught enough Jeepneys (Tuk Tuks in other Asian countries. Like a tiny bus.) and taxis in the two weeks that I’ve been here to teach me how to handle the transport side. The language could be an issue, but some people here can speak English. Please don’t worry. What could possibly go wrong?” I replied.

I scrambled up on the rock. The deer was standing down below feeding in the tall grass. “You ready Rylan?” Justin asked. “No, I need a better rest,” I responded. “Ok,” Justin answered as I slid to another rock. Sure enough this rock was steady. “Ok the safety is off,” I whispered to Justin. Bang! 1 day Earlier … “Those little bucks just keep coming but that 3 point just won’t come!” Todd muttered. We were sitting on a muddy road in Todd’s truck overlooking a small

Willow acted calm like it was no big deal we might go in a submarine but I could tell she was excited and eager. Willow’s dad finally finished talking to the lab workers. He walked over to us with a stern look on his face. He sighed like he was sad, and my heart dropped. Did they say no. He sighed again, “Well, they said,” then he smiled, “We can!” All three of us jumped for joy! We were going in a submarine! “You scared me for a second!” Willow told her dad. “Yeah, well we have to go now or we won’t

I couldn't process how to react, I couldn't work out whether to scream or cry, shout out in anger. I couldn't just sit there and think about what had happened nor did i want to try clear my head but i knew i had to, how was a completely different story though. There was no way of writing the emotions down and i couldn't just let this shit play on my mind. Questions was spinning around my head, a blur, like a confusion of answers that just didn't make sense. I didn't have anyone to talk to, didn't

My family story is not about someone who is blood-related, but rather a family friend of my great grandmother. Her name is Eva Mozes Kor, a twin of her sister Miriam, born in nineteen thirty-four. They were born into a family of three other children. They resided a tiny town in Transylvania, Romania. In May of nineteen forty-four, Eva and her family arrived by train car at the concentration camp, Auschwitz. They got down from the train car, where people were chosen to live or die. People were crying

I woke up in the morning and I took my dog on a walk and I saw a moving van so I had went over there to see what was going on. On the way there there was a family of two there was a Mom,and girl named Sam the family seem very nice I didn't know about the Sam she seem very odd so I did not know what to think about her. The next day I got up and went to school in the middle of the day the girl next door was there and she was off she was rude and we did not like each other she had black pants and

from your image or the story that your image tells about you. This story is called your personal story. It’s all the little assumptions that people get from the way you look or act. Sometimes your true personal story is not necessarily what you want your boyfriend’s parents or future employer to see about you. Because of this you must figure a way to mold and maneuver your personal story into one that you don’t mind people making little assumptions about. Your personal story is extremely important