Personal Narrative-Coleman Lake

this, this was just the means to an end, nothing more. The dark grey clouds hung

Oh, it has been a month. So much has happened. A couple hundred miles into our trip, we looked ahead and say a long line of people. It was the kansas river. When we got up close we could see what the people were doing. One by one the wagons would cross the river. We were thinking about just walking across, the water was only like 2.5 feet deep. We decided it wasn't worth the risk and waited in line. When it was our turn we gave them $1 and started moving across. The river was only about 200 yards across. When we got across we looked back and saw that some people tried crossing without using the fairy. They were stuck. While we waited for the rest of our train we watched them trying to get unstuck. They managed to get out but there wagon and

First of all I was in my dark room with the only light being my t.v, I playing Xbox with my friend Skylar, we were playing Rainbow Six Siege a counter terrorism shooter. It was a late on a dark, stormy night, it was bomb objective and only I was left on the team to face five other enemies defusing the bomb and I slowly and stealthy with his silenced pistol picked off about two enemies outside the objective roaming and then pulled out his primary the 416-C Assault Rifle and went in blazing in the objective and his heart was racing he picked off another two enemies and that’s when he began guarding the defuser waiting to find the last enemy. “Can you search cams Skylar?” I asked Skylar.

There are millions of people in the military and I have always been fascinated by the concept of it. The interesting part was never the war, they were intriguing, but there is too much death involved. I am fascinated by the concept of being a part of something bigger than you in addition to being one big family fighting for the same thing. I believe it all started with the two thousand one movie Pearl Harbor, no matter what they were facing in their personal life they all worked together. I never really knew anyone involved in the military, but that all changed when my oldest brother joined The United States Air Force.

On inquiry at a cabin we learned he had found a boat and passed down the lake and would meet us at the portage, so we pushed on as it was a matter of importance to reach the carry very soon, as the fast increasing darkness would make it impossible to find the trail in the woods. Arrived at the portage we hastened over, leaving all that could not be carried at one trip to be returned for in the morning, and found M. coming across Portage Lake to meet us, accompanied by a sturdy settler whom he had found living on the shore of Blackstone Lake. The addition to our force enabled us to get all the camp traps over to the shore of Portage Lake. This lake is a beautiful oval sheet of water half a mile in greatest diameter, with high and densely forest covered banks, and lays between Otter and Blackstone

A bit chilly at the lake's edge under the night sky, but I like the sound, water splashing against the formation of boulders. I like the universe the stars and galaxies. A dark open sky above the water illuminated by the millions of stars. The mountains display an appearance of watching over the lake. That's why I love it here at the loading docks at water's edge and the parking lot where the ravens fly by. Although evil has settled in here on the land and in the sky so under the waters. This beguiles me to reshape my thinking to this knowledge. Consequently weighting the discrepancies, I may never come back to lake ponder. Lake Ponderay is no longer my sanctuary or safe haven. Looking up at the night sky, one of the probes traveled off

I send my mom a quick text to let her know where I am going, and we are off in five cars lined up like a Mardi Gras parade. I have a bad feeling about this. I have never been to Micah’s grandmother’s house, and I am totally alone in the last car. If I lose them at a turn or a light, I might never find my way, but I have no other choice but to drive myself because of my early curfew. My friend, Ben, is in the car in front of me, and I am staying close behind him, so I don’t get lost.

In July 2016, I had a wonderful day planned. My girlfriend, Audrey, and I were prepared to spend a full day at Lincoln State Park. After eating breakfast at Denny’s, we pulled into the entrance of the state park. With our swimsuits on and backpacks strapped, the hiking began. To say the least, we had a long, long hike with minor incidents including a small snake that caused me to scream like a little girl and a tower we climbed even though I am afraid of heights. To wrap up the day, we swam in the lake infested with little, microscopic minnows and took our turn at canoeing, which ended up getting us stuck in the middle of the lake. All in all, the day of adventures with Audrey was relaxing and refreshing, but unfortunately, the excitement was

Nebraska, that’s what they told me. As the word echoed in my head I thought to myself, “What the hell are they talking about?” Nebraska. Is that even like a real place where people live? Who would want to leave behind a life by the beach and close to friends and family? How could my parents do this to me? I sunk into the couch wondering what would happen to my life. I had been so accustomed to my friends and my school, these were people I had known since the second grade. And another thing, in my eyes, Nebraska was just a state in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t ever heard of anything about Nebraska on tv except for a few husker

An unmodified, relaxing resort that changes everyone blessed enough to know of this wonderful lake. A place with no worries, in the deep northern Wisconsin wood, with a clear spring-fed body living in the middle that sustains the rest of the life in this small piece of Mid-Western paradise. The smell of your next meal emitting from the blindingly white building that constantly stares at the small Lake Clare, with the eagles and osprey floating above it. You can hear the lagoon lapping against the shore as you reflect on life and unwind from your troubles and worries. The lake takes everyone back to the past when they contained less days under their belt and reminds them of the days they stood by their side. Along the lakeside lays simple,

"You've got to come," said Colleen. "I'll talk to Joe," I responded, wanting to say

Casey awoke in a tired frenzie attempting to figure out just where he was, how he got there, and why. He was clearly

I sit alone in the dark, listening to cicadas and feeling a slight breeze creep across my arm, just enough to make the hairs perk up. Sitting in the hanging chairs on the dock at eleven o’clock at night, just allows for my body to calm and relax before I go to sleep. It is pure serene and tranquil. I observe how the blue lights on each dock are lit and move with the roll of a passing boat’s waves. My lips taste the crisp, humid, muggy, late July air. My eyes move from one end of the dock to the other. Waiting for any

At the end of the dock is a sign that reads; "No Fishing, No Swimming, No Dumping"; a sign that is quite often recognized by all visitors of parks and lakes and as big as the windshield. Around the lake there a hills and valleys around Lake Lavon. $200,00 home are springing up like mad. Retirees, former airline pilots, and people generally burned out on big cities are discovering Lake Lavon. The small lake but the perfect weather, and the safe-quiet atmosphere are drawing people like a cover-up draws Ed Bradly. Without thought or hesitation we smiled and warmly held ourselves in each other arms and slowly sat down together at the end of the dock, put out feet in the water and the water was so cool like melted water from snow (to eat the strawberries we brought). The strawberries were delicious; red, ripped, and plumped; sweetness caressed our mouth with very bite. Some were quite sour, but was washed it away by an ocean of water every time. As supplies ran short she decided to play lazy and had me carry her to watch the people fishing by the dock. Although very distinctive and precise, I was like a bear; very step was heavy and short. To the left side of the dock about 200ft people ware fishing and kid's playing soccer on the field near the lake. By watching them play I remember my childhood, that my mother always took me to the Lake Lavon every weekend to fishing, and now I'm with my girlfriend holding her hand and watching people fishing and

It was the summer of 1984 when my mom, her mom, and her best friend decided it would be fun to take a canoe trip down scenic Stump Creek, just west of a small secluded Wisconsin town called St. Germain. They brought along a cooler full of liverwurst sandwiches with onions- Grandma Patty’s favorite- for lunch, their old rusty canoe that hadn’t been used in years, Grandma’s camera, and everything else Grandma thought they need. They all piled into the canoe ready to enjoy a relaxing day on the water, or so they thought.