Essay-My Narrative : A Short Story

The waves end at my ankles and the water and sand rushing through my toes feel great. I shiver and shiver until I finally get used to the water. I make my way farther out to where I'm leveled off to my waist. Quick breathe, then dunk under. I quickly pull my soaked head of the salty sea and comb my hair back with my wrinkled fingers. My sun kissed face makes my freckles pop when you could never see them. To be safe, I slowly get out of the salty wetland and make my way under the colorful umbrella my mom set up when I was away from them, enjoying the water.

As an adventurous risk-taker and someone willing to undergo any challenge that comes her way, submerging into ice cold shark-infested waters was something that took a great deal of mental preparation. Before I entered the water, I felt nausea rush over me as I put on my wet suit being weighed down by rocks strapped onto my waist. I struggled to push the visions of Jaws and other glorified Hollywood movies out of

Everything was great until the one fateful wave. That wave, that one wave, the one that changed everything. My feet are swept from under me. Swirling around under the waves that were just caressing my body meekly a few seconds ago. I am powerless to the strength of the ocean. This was beginning to be a Hawaiian roller coaster that I definitely did not want to ride anymore. I am shot back to the reality of where I was. The sand that was so smooth and friendly before was now my worst enemy. It is everywhere, on my face, scraping my body against the rough floor of the sea. I felt the different waves pulling me in different directions like two dogs playing tug-of-war, eventually the bigger dog won and I am being catapulted out to sea. A sharp seashell threw itself at me in the midst of the chaos, like those kids that only do something because everyone else is. Wasn’t I just like that? That was the whole reason I was in this situation in the first place. Thoughts of earlier in the hot tub suddenly popped into my mind. Me and some of my other siblings were messing around in the pool, going underwater and using my ever prepared sister, Brittany’s stopwatch to see who could stay under the longest. I could only hold my breath for thirty seconds. What if the water held me hostage longer than that? What if this was truly the end. How ironic, I

It was a sunny Friday afternoon when I decided to take my observations with me out into the world. I find that my imagination wanders off on its own and takes trips to the ocean without me so I figured my body had some catching up to do. With a snap of my fingers and a short ride through the canyon I found myself at my childhood playground, Zuma Beach. Without hesitation I laid my towel down upon the tiny grains and chips of rocks that the oceans might has turned into sand over the years. I took a moment to put my life on hold and gaze at what nature had to offer to me. I reflected upon all of the other places I could have been instead of standing with my toes curling in the warm sandy beach and smiled in appreciation of my situation.

In the consuming darkness her body began to float upwards. Her mouth was open, letting in small discreet amounts of air, trying to buy as much time as she could before she ran out. Her fragile body was suspended in an awkward posture with her torso jutted forward and her limbs moving like a clockwork doll. Amongst the relentless whipping of the undulating waves she could hear her sister’s scream. She felt herself rise upwards as she continued to flail. She had to survive. She had to somehow reach the surface of the water and survive. She didn’t want to die. Not now. She was running out of air, no longer able to fight the urge to breathe. She looked up to see the sunlight, but she saw none. Then it dawned on her. She wouldn’t make it. She let

Slipping into the mineral full sea; I feel a little bit cooler. As I try to sink myself in the unsinkable sea, I push myself closer to shore. I then float over to the deeper area, thinking what could be under my feet. I know there are no sharks in this sea, nor fish to nibble on my feet, for no plant or animal is able to live in such a high concentration of salt and minerals. I feel a bit uncomfortable in the Dead Sea, but I get used to it. After about five minutes on my back I feel comfortable enough to plunge my legs under the water. Bobbing up and down, I feel like a bobber on a fishing rod! The water is so still that when I bob, there are ripples in the sea! The dark blue water makes waves all around me. It looks so

At the point when the wave at long last drew near me, he let go of my hand and this made me to lose my balance and fall with the force of the wave. When this occurred I remembered my dad picking me up and saying,” See, it wasn’t that bad.” Right then and there I understood that when you fall you just have to get right back up. This made me defeat the trepidation of waves. So as I got up I went further into the sea than I would ever before while my father was standing right besides me. He then laid me on the water with his hands under my stomach so that I wouldn’t drown. He then taught me how to kick and stroke my arms properly. However, this took time to learn. So as a month passed, my parents took me to the shoreline.. However, this time it was unique in relation to the various ones.What made it totally distinctive was the way that I could swim and have the capacity to confront the waves without falling .With my father assisting me, I could swim independent, and not have a trepidation of water. My association with water had made an extremely exceptional association with my dad and how you can defeat

On Saturday, March 19th, 2016 I faced a terribly hard challenge. It was a warm and sunny spring day when the tragedy occurred. My family and I traveled across five states and drove in a car for fourteen hours straight to arrive in Destin, Florida. When we arrived we settled into our condo and then headed into town to sightsee. We hadn’t known that we were just a quarter mile away from the ocean prior to our stay. The first time I laid eyes on the ocean I felt as though I was in paradise. The waves were very subtle and calming. I thought that the sound of the wind and the waves washing onto shore was an open invitation for me to join in on the fun! little did I know at the time the waves did not like me.

When I hit the water, I feel every bone in the lower half of my body snap. Blood floods out of my mouth as I descend to the bottom of the numbingly cold ocean. Looking up, I see the fire still illuminating the island, giving the water glass-like features. I hit the hard, rigid bottom of the ocean and let out my last breath. Water fills my lungs in excruciating agony and I begin to regret my actions. As I scream, more water pours into my lungs. My eyes gently

I headed out to the water after setting up my towel. The shock of the frigid water took my breath away and I was momentarily stunned. However, I quickly recovered; finding my body adjusts rapidly to the cold water. I waded a few feet into it before leaning forward and swimming out. I didn't dare to go too far though, instead turning to swim parallel to the shore. I was comforted by the sounds of the ocean; the rhythmic pounding of the waves represses all of my worries. I looked into the cloudless cerulean blue sky and see the perfection of life. Just when I was starting to get tired and wanted to go back to the shore, I saw something.

When he feels the wave getting closer he starts paddling faster and harder, in a strong rhythm. As he feels the wave on top of him and the water rising beneath him, he jumps to his feet just as he's done a million times before. His feet reconnect with the board and he regains his balance effortlessly. He is racing down the wave at top speed, the adrenaline rushing through his body like electricity. His heart is thumping in his ears, like drums at a rock concert. The lip of the wave slowly curls over to create a tube. The excitement builds as he crouches down low and braces himself. He feels the wind rushing through his hair and the wave envelopes him in a cocoon of cool salt water. He keeps his eye fixed on the end of the tube, and reaches out his hand, gently brushing against the wall of water that has formed around him. The water feels cool and refreshing on his fingertips and he finds it hard to imagine that something so calming could create such power. The pressure of the tube is slowly building, like a volcano about to erupt into an overwhelming flow of red lava. The best part of the ride is still to come. The moment that he lives for, the final rush of adrenaline, the climax of the surfing experience; the

It was a short yet much needed weekend for Scoob and the gang, full of bright colourful days, and lit by the scorching sun. Luscious waves which were breaking close to shore and palm trees swaying side to side, as if waving to the fishermen who were pulling in their monster catches from the sea.

So there I was, looking over the horizon from that pristine Puerto Rican beach. I could smell the salt water, feel the sand slipping between my toes, and hear the ocean beckoning for me. I swear that I could just sit there admiring the view all day long, but I had better things to do than daydream the morning away. I slipped off my sand-covered sandals, took off my shirt, and headed into the clear, blue water. As I waded deeper into the surf, I couldn’t help but notice the mesmerizing patterns of the waves: the way they formed ever so beautifully from a vast distance, becoming stronger and larger as they advanced toward the island. I could spot that famous seventh wave (the biggest one of the wave series-hurtling toward me), but I knew too much about the waves for them to scare me. By the time the wave was twice my height from thirty feet away, it lost its structure and fell unceremoniously forward. A slight tug of white water almost pulled my feet out from under me. I recovered and began walking towards my pile of clothes, with my back feeling the warmth of the rising sun. I stuffed my legs into my soothingly dry jeans and stared once more at the water thinking, “this is where I belong, this is where I am meant to be.”

My bare feet crossed over the double yellow lines of the busy road that divided the parking lot and the bay as I carried my flip-flops in one hand and my phone in the other. The burning sun directed its rays towards my shoulders and I could feel my skin getting hotter by the second. I watched as my family and neighbors began crossing the rickety bridge that led to the dock and just as it had in the car, my mind began to race. I couldn’t help but think of all the shark attacks that had occurred in South Carolina this summer and I avoided going in the ocean the whole vacation because of that. I am absolutely terrified of sharks.

I am going to write my personal narrative about when I was bullied by a girl named Anna which is not her real name but I will tell the story using a different name for her. So it all started when we were like in 2end grade. I happen to walk into rickers when she was in there and I guess she was mad because her grandma told her stuff that was not true about are dad’s. So she took it all out on me for years. She said stuff like you B word and other cuss words. I was like “ what did I do “. Then she went on a long rant about somehow it is all my fault that her dad went to jail. The truth is that her dad was buddy’s with my dad and her dad did some stuff and my dad being the good person he is took the blame so my dad went to jail for her dad. Her dad did something after my dad was already in jail so her dad was put into jail too. That night I walked home thinking about everything she said. I should of told someone then, but I didn't I locked it inside and crying myself to sleep every night.