Personal Narrative

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

It is true in life that everything happens for a reason. It is also true to say that sometimes it is all about being in the right place, at the right time. There was never a more prominent example of this than a traumatic summers evening, only a few years ago.

I arrived at practice with my shoes laced, hair pulled back, and the mindset that I was unstoppable. I could play against every member of my team and come out the victor on any given day. It was the first day of practice that week, and challenge matches were scheduled to begin. The team went through our daily shuffle of drills, conditioning, and running to prepare for what was lying ahead. While warming up with my friends, I felt great, talking about homecoming, boys, and a variety of irrelevant events. I felt ready. The odds were in my favor and nobody could stop me.

‘’I was on my way to back to school night I was extremely nervous to meet my teacher and when I got there I heard Andrew then I turned around and…’’ One time when I was in second grade I was on my way to back to school night I went to meet my teacher her name was Ms. Pepler. She was nice at helping me put my stuff in my desk but I thought she would be meaner in the school year so when me and my mom got back in the car I said ‘’I think Ms. pepler is going to be mean this year.’’ My mom said ‘’ she seemed really nice at back to school night’’ then I said maybe you're right.’’ Now it is the first day of school and I was nervous because I thought I had a mean teacher and I didn't have any friends it was just me and my cousin. The first day of

It was one of those oddities; though identical twins, they had celebrated different birthdays: first, Molly, born on April 1, 1972, at 11:47 PM, and second came Megan on April 2 at 12:17 AM. Their parents, Meryl and Bill, thought it best that the twins celebrate on their own days and had always held separate parties for them. Bill adored “his girls,” and Megan was probably his favorite. A parent shouldn’t have a favorite child, yet, they all, more than likely do. It’s either the one that they’ve carried some sort of guilt about, for one reason or another, or the one that highly reminds them of themselves. In Bill’s case, it was definitely Megan, he enjoyed her spunk (a quality he thought missing from the other two children). It was his attraction to her high-spiritedness that had Meryl, on countless occasions telling him; “You are letting her get away with

I grew up as a creative, very imaginative person. My imagination was always going, 24/7, going like Lebron in the paint, it couldn’t be stopped. I would stay up some nights imagining myself as a cop, a football player, basketball player, astronaut, truck driver, you name it. I imagined myself being anything I wanted to be. But how I got to be so imaginative is because of something I didn’t think until I began to write this essay. I was raised in a small town call Crossett, Arkansas, above the border of Louisiana. This town is a town in which I call a “chill town.” Everybody knows each other, and when pass by in your cars you can wave and give a bright smile and they’ll do the same back. Usually on a weekend you can find mostly everyday in their

The sand is cold, the sky overcast, and the waves crash against the shore echoing harshly through my ears. I see clouds rolling overhead, I can smell the salt of the ocean, feel the texture of the sand, taste the electricity on the air and it all points to the coming storm. Is it real? Can anything be real when seen through someone else's eyes, felt through someone else's skin, tasted through someone else's tongue, Breathed through someone else's nose, heard through someone else's ears? This is what the world looked like to her, felt like to her, but what did it look like to me, feel to me? Was there ever a me or only this continually changing sculpture, patterns of a person and nothing more. I shivered as the cold air caressed the flesh I wore.

From a very young age I was brought up around religion. I would go to Sunday school every day, church camps and I also never attended a public school, all private religious school. But I began to become confused very quickly as the actions of my parents began to prove otherwise.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

I’m done. I can’t do this back and forth thing anymore. You cheat, I forgive. It’s a never ending cycle. It’s gotten to the point where you bring me more sadness and anger than happiness and joy. All my friends say that you’re toxic and that there was no way to change you but I took that as a challenge. I’m now realizing that they’re right. There’s nothing I can do to change you. I’m sorry I had to do this over text, but I know if I tried to do it in person I’d back out, like I always do. I always fall for those perfect blue eyes of yours and that perfect little smirk. I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I can’t do this anymore. I deserve someone who genuinely loves me and cares for me and at this point I’ve realized that you aren’t that person.

It was in my home that beautiful blue morning that I realized it was my birthday and I wanted to go someplace for my birthday, I called my friends over to discuss the places we should go so after a few minutes my friends showed up to my house to chill and talk about where we wanted to go for my birthday. So my friends and I sat around talking a putting out ideas of different places and we finally decided to go to Myrtle Beach, SC. For my birthday I was extremely hyped to go, as I was getting a few things ready I noticed my phone was glowing and vibrating. I saw a notification from my bank I opened the app and saw I had gotten paid from my job I ended up with $550 I got excited and knew that day was

Carl had an average life. He had a decent paying job and a decent house but by far the best thing he had was his beautiful wife Christine . Christine loved jewelry. Carl liked cars, his most prized possession is his sports car. It was going to be their anniversary in a couple weeks. Carl was going to give Christine a gold and diamond encrusted jewelry box for all her jewelry. he has been saving up for years now and now is the perfect time.

Growing up, regularity was my best friend. I was perfectly happy to live each day as I did the last one, knowing exactly what to expect, always prepared for everything. Experiencing new things was far out of my extremely small comfort zone, which is why I was so thankful that my family’s summer vacation was the exact same each year.

The clock ticked on steadily. Automatic sliding doors, piles of newspapers and magazines, which lay dormant, were stacked neatly on the large central wooden table. Assorted chairs, some comfortable, some upright with padded seats and curved backs. The only sounds I could hear for the past few hours were the rhythmic tick-tocking of my life passing me by. I lifted my head and glanced once again at the rows of empty seats in the waiting room. As the sound of the clock continued, I began to feel my heart beat rhythmically join in with the sound of the clock. Every 5-10 minutes, the telephone rang. The grey-haired, old lady with the appealing voice and welcoming smile was first to pick up every time. A family of three entered the automatic sliding doors, a father and his two young daughters. Straight away the two little girls ran to the play area, brimming with dolls and toy cars and pieces of Lego. As the time moved on, at a snail’s pace, more and more patients began to fill up the once half empty waiting room.

“You are so lucky that your mom picks you up and drops you off at the bus stop every single day. My mom never does that for me except on a few occasions when the weather is terrible” my friend April said to me once during a bus ride.