Personal Narrative

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.

Although my high school years are up, I am proud to say that my time there was well spent. Since my freshman year I have been an avid member of Trevor G. Browne high school and the community and tried my best to contribute and give back as much as possible. I am currently enrolled at ASU where I plan to further my education in psychology and medicine in order to go back to my community and help my people. During my high school years I commuted back and forth from the Tohono O’odham reservation to Phoenix Arizona. This was an utter culture shock but it made me realise where my small community at home, a small village called North Komelik in Sif Oidak District on the Tohono O’odham reservation, faults and it was my duty to be the change in order

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

G sharp, C sharp, E natural. Finger 5, 1, 2, and 5 again. And then F sharp, and then…yes, I finally got it! I think to myself as I do a fist pump into the air. I had perfected a part of a piece I was playing that I had been struggling with for the longest time. My left hand was already tired from hammering away at the piano keys for what seemed like hours. I turned the pages back to the beginning of the song and played through the whole song. I was finally ready perform it at the recital.

I am a rather complex individual, but one quality that stands out about me is that I am very passionate. While I am passionate about many subjects, I have great passionate for a select few. First, I am very passionate about entertainment. For as long as I can remember I have always adored television shows, movies, and books. As soon as school let out I would rush home to watch Thundercats with my oldest brother, Mark. During my school vacation, I would spend my time reading. Therefore, my mother said it was hard to keep up with purchasing books for me to read. When my family went to the mall they knew I could always be found in the book store. Finally, I am passionate about Comic Conventions. My oldest brother introduced me to a convention

Where am I? It is black. It is thundering and lightning. I hear my mom snoring. Then I remember that I am on a camping trip with my Mom, Crystal, Xander, and my papa. We had left at 10pm and slept till we reached the Mcdonald's for a quick breakfast. Then we drove for a few more hours till we reached our campsite in Minnesota at 12:30 pm the next day. We had to set up our tent, but the problem was the tent only held 3 people. My papa wanted to sleep in the bed of the truck. So one of us kids had to sleep in the back seat, Xander volunteered since us girls should not have to sleep in the same tent as a boy. The next order of business was to find the bug spray, there were so many mosquitoes and biting flies. I hate bugs so I hid under a sweater

It had been around 42 days. I had no way to know when the sun was rising or setting; I only had my sense of time. They came in every day and gave me a small loaf of bread, some sort of meat, and only enough water to wash down my food. It was not enough to give me strength only enough to keep me alive. I was not sure where I was or even how I got there. The only thing I knew was that I wished I could go back home to my loving family.

This story is going to be about this one halloween and it was truly terrifying for me at least. This will take place when i was about nine years old and the year was 2014. It started out as every day and it was like any normal day and it was halloween and i had to go to school so here was this big party at the end of the day and we were going to have a 5 day weekend. So everybody was excited and it was party time there was a big school party then there was a classroom party. We were just waiting for recess so that the party would start cause they scheduled the party after recess and lunch. It was only twenty minutes after rescues and our teacher took 18 minutes to take us back inside.

Well, I can’t say that I am not scared. I mean…I am kind of standing beside my shed looking for someone. Let’s see, what can I do to get this off my mind for a few minutes? I am not really thinking straight right now, but I will keep thinking. Suddenly I hear a twig snap, and just like any “ brave” boy would, I go and investigate. I turn my flashlight on to get a better view of the tree rubble. I don’t see anything so I turn to leave and come face to face with a masked man. Out of nowhere he pushes me to the ground and sprints off. When I look around, I see that the ground is littered with broken glass, but I think nothing of it. For some reason when I stand up I feel a whole lot shorter and surprisingly itchy. I do one quick glance

August 20, the day I have dreaded since the end of school last year. Hi, the name’s Francisca, but you can call me Fran. My life has kinda sucked ever since my brother got lost nine years ago. My parents have looked for him ever since. They said they would at least like to find a body to have peace that he isn’t suffering. I have dark, almost black hair, and eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. My two friends, Jess and Kate, are the closest thing I have to best friends at the place people call getting an education. Otherwise known as college. I’m also starting my sophomore year in college at Mead University. Well, let’s get it poppin’.

The girl who I’d grown up with since preschool had a small tremble in her hands and couldn’t write legibly. Being bullied at a young age and didn’t pick up a pencil for the rest of elementary school, took its toll. But she sung the loudest songs and kept you on the edge of your seat with the passion that flowed from her vocal chords. She could talk for hours on end and listen just as well. She did all her work vocally and may have gotten the best grade in the class. Never giving excuses and always taking the hard route, and continued humming along the way.

Two and a half years ago i was brought into this world. I couldn’t see or hear for quite a while so I just slept, and slept, and slept. I don’t remember the first day I could see, but i remember the first thing I saw. My mother. She was big and yellow with huge floppy ears I dreamed I would have one day. Her eyes were filled with compassion as she looked at me and my nine other siblings I apparently had. When I looked around at all of my brothers and sisters it was obvious I wasn’t the first awake. Three of my brothers were running around playfully in a huge pen located in the backyard. All three of them were yellow, but not me, I was black. Jet black with not even the slightest bit of variation. I had black fur, black paws, and black eyes.

Was it a normal, ordinary day. Also, it’s my first day at high school and new friends I met. Around I walked, saw a teacher, asked how his day was. Never responded. Maybe I should make sure he could see me, but at least I knew his name, it was Randy. By me, many teachers walked, but they also never responded. It also seemed like Randy had a gas tank with him.

On August 3, Connor woke up and went down stairs. He ate some breakfast and went to go get his mother up. When he did she asked him if he wanted to have a very fun mother and son day. Conor said he would love to. He was so excited because he did not do anything with his mum in forever. Conor did not know if something was wrong or if this was just for fun.

“Like the mistake of cramming all your studying into the night before your most pivotal day of the year, every students endorse of value”. I turned towards mom to see her face of stunned confusion, not knowing what to say or do. I then look at grandma, thinking of a way to break the silence. “And when you carried her for 9 months?” I asked, trying to stay in contact with that wash of brown. “Oh, it was so difficult. The pain any little child fears. But when she came out, your mom had me thanking the lord for a gift I'll never replace; even with a girl's best friend, diamonds!” she jokingly gasped. “I could endure any pain that came after it too, just to have your mother wrapped around my arms, then she gave me a smile ”. And then she gave me a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right angle to showcase the faint creases of her laugh lines; flourished by the years she had set her foot on earth. It was that unexpected gush of warmth that went through me as I saw that dimple peak through. Seeing grandma smile gave me that slow-mo feeling no american movie forgets to showcase. When she smiled, I lost focus of the distraction around, apart from the woman who was in front of me. The woman who owned a smile so contagious, it was so bright. Bright enough to light up New York city after dark.