My Hero's Journey-Personal Narrative

My father’s presence was the only thing that stopped me.... He was running at my side, out of breath, at the end of his strength, at his wit’s end. I had no right to let myself die. What would he do without me? I was his only support.”

Zachari's grandmother showed the QP the court documents the probation officer left that reports he has 20 hours of community services, have no contact with the co-defendants, curfew set by the parent, and contact with his probation officer.

What would happen next?!  She began to go down, she put one foot down on the next step.  The ladder began to wobble Chu-yi, holding on tightly stops moving ,and the ladder is still.  Chu-yi knew that could have been bad.  She makes it half way down the ladder while her heart is beating like a drum.  Chu-yi starts to hum the swift birds's song to calm herself. Bang, Chu-yi hears the sound and hurries down the ladder.

I pulled my hair up into a pony tail and slung my purse over my shoulder before responding to him.

I was nine years old when it happened. I loved Shrek so much, I owned all the movies and the merchandise, I even prayed to Shrek every night, I still do. This night was no different "Shrek is love. Shrek is life." I finish my prayer, thanking Shrek for the life I've been given. My dad overhears me "Faggot." he mumbles under his breath. "Cunt." I reply, I say no more because I know he is just jealous of the devotion and relationship I have with the green lord an savior, Shrek. I can see him grow angrier before he slaps me across the face "Go to your room you disgusting faggot!" he yells. I hold back the tears and I go back to my room, once I'm in the safety in my room I let the rears flow. My face stings from where he hit me. I climb into my cold and lonesome bed, and the suddenly, I feel a warmth move towards me, it runs a large finger down my back.

I feel a cold chill as I slide my helmet down my greasy black hair. As I rub my right hand over the smooth metal of my handgun. I listen to the crashing water bashing into the side of the boat. Suddenly it stops, to create an eerie silence. We’re here. I kneel down and tighten the laces of my boots. As I let go of the laces, I realise that my hands are shaking unbearably. I still can’t believe that this is happening and a part of me wishes that I was back home or that I could just stay on the boat as everyone else invades Cobblers Bay. The sound of the heavy thud of boots echoes throughout the room as my comrades climb up the ladder. Christian quietly sobs as we prepare are gear. We met at school and have been friends ever since. He never wanted to join the army but he had no other choice as he was a conscript like me.

A mysterious yet beautiful unknown hidden world to human eyes which held the deepest, shimmering eternal blue, just like the finest sapphire jewels or the prettiest earth flowers, hidden deep beneath the dark crystal waters. I was born in these waters, and to the ocean is where I will return and die. I closed my eyes, as I turned my face to the wind. The warm, gentle breeze caressed my bare ivory skin, as I felt the warmth and feeling return to the edges of my fingertips.

Enclosed between five walls and a packet of chips between us, my senior class are sat sitting on their luggage, mouths quite literally falling to their chins and a stare that could make the Queen shudder in fright. I seemed to only be the vocal student out of the pack. "You have got to be kidding me," I toss my hands over my head for emphasis and point to the dungeon that we had been trapped in. The white washed walls that gave no sign of life suddenly make me what to scream. "This trip was supposed to be fun, explore our creative minds or whatever." A flash of anger flutters over my eyes.

Driving over 1,700 miles is not the most enjoyable thing to do; especially when you’re moving. It’s not so rough when you have time to stop and sightsee. But when your truck and a moving truck are full of household and personal items sightseeing is out of the question. That means stopping and stretching legs comes when a truck needs to be filled up and windows washed. The nice thing about having a teen driver is they get to experience the “thrill” of driving across country on roads and highways that are not jam-packed with cars.

In drama, story telling, myths, a religious ritual, psychological development and even in life there's a hero's journey. The hero's journey is basically multiple steps describing the adventure of “The hero”. A hero to me is someone who has courage, who did something amazing, someone you can look up to. Even though I am not a typical hero there are times when my life follows the hero's journey with archetypes such as the herald, loyal companion , threshold guardian.

It has been two years since you passed. It has been a year since I unearthed your vacant coffin with Oskar. Yet, it has been less than a second since you came to my mind. A day has yet to pass where I do not ponder of you, imagine you. I have seen pictures and heard stories of you, yet it always pains me that I could not have a place within them. I know nothing of you, my own child. In fact, I cannot call you, Thomas Schell, mine. There is nothing of me in you, and that will always be my deepest regret. If I had two lives, I would spend them both with you, as if that would somewhat compensate for the unjust life I forced upon you. A life without a father. Though, a boy need-not be raised by man, when a woman as sturdy as your mother is in place. I

We rarely saw Dad without a smile, except when we left food on our plate, and it wasn’t because there were starving children in India. We also learned never to say we were hungry because Dad would mutter, “You kids don’t know what it is to be hungry.” At the time I didn’t know why he said it, but I did know it was terribly important that we gratefully eat whatever food was put in front of us. Dad was loving and thoughtful

“ After your mother and I leave, I want you to watch over each other. To guard and love each other, until you all grow of age to separate. Before we go I want to make sure that you, my children, will never EVER leave each other sides,” my ill Father ordered.

That time father came home intoxicated again; I was sitting on the couch in the parlor, reading and listening to music. He gruffly asked me why I was up so late again, even though it was only 10:30, and not even a school night, and he was up now just as well;

As we walked in through the glass doors and trotted to the front counter, I could picture myself being disappointed, shortly in the future, about what was going to happen here, yet I wasn't going to let those feelings get me down. At the sight of all the animals, Bryan’s face seem to light up when we had walked in, and I thought I saw a small curve pointing upwards on Brendan’s mouth. THAT was definitely something you didn't see everyday.(More like ANYday.) I knew though, my mom wouldn't have brought us here for a stupid reason.