Personal Narrative Fiction

The airplane was crashing, as usual. No matter how many times it played out, she always ended up here, plummeting to her end, pinned against the back of the seat. She never reached the end of the dream; every time she'd jolt awake, just before the plane was crushed into the ground. Whenever she closed her eyes, Emily found herself haunted by this nightmare; alone and terrified. It was worst when she would wake sprawled across the same seat she'd been in while she dreamt. As the wings of the plane tore away branches of the forest below, Em woke with a start. That night, JJ sat in the seat across from her, watching her worriedly.

“I hate to change the subject so suddenly, but there’s a tall, good looking guy pacing up and down right under our window, and Musa?” Stella said, giving her friend a cheeky smile, pointing a slender finger to the ground. “I think he wants to see you.”

Nell passed out trays to the customers, just like she usually did, but this time, it was quietly and sadly, not like her usual self. Even though the coffeehouse the packed full with men, the whole place was filled with sadness and despair. “Poor Mattie, why did she have to go?” cried Nathaniel, leaning over the ornate coffin.

Stomping up the stairs Nia yells, “ You’re not the boss of me!” And slams her bedroom door shut. Heavily breathing Nia grasped for air. Trying to control her breathing, she places her hand on her chest. Tears ride down her face quickly like a river flow. Not knowing how to stop Nia constantly wipes her face.

Slowly, my feet dragged behind me as I walked through the pouring rain in the streets and in my soaking wet pajamas; I had no recognition of the time that I've been out here but I did know that it was sometime in the dead morning between two and three o'clock. The only thing that I knew was that I was heading back home at a sluggish pace, shaking.

As I felt my body awakening, I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the phosphenes. I looked around my surroundings and felt instant panic. There were no doors or windows; just pure white walls. I leaped up from off the ground and glanced down to the floor; there was blood. My hands were bloody, my clothes were bloody, and everything else was bloody. I knew it wasn’t mine because I was in no way harmed. Suddenly my head was filled with horrific screams; ones that were not my own. I couldn’t shut it off, they just kept screaming. The pain became so intolerable that I too, began to scream. I collapsed onto the hard, white floor. The cries continued until it was all too much to bare and I passed out.

I watched as Judal looked around the dark room. The way he gently caressed the bed of stone. The way his hands would clench into fists as thoughts would run wildly through his mind. We watched him out of curiosity as to why he decided to come down to the palace dungeon in the first place. His gaze rested upon a certain treasure chest that sat in front of chains that were connected to the walls. His body wavered a bit not going unnoticed by any of us. Alibaba went over to his friend to make sure he was alright. "Judal...?" A whimpering sound could be heard from the magi as he muttered something. "Alibaba what is he saying?" I asked.

I could only see darkness, I could feel other puppies blindly bumping into me, but where was my mother? I felt something warm grab my body and gently place me into a crate filled with towels. I could hear a loud noise somewhere close to me, then I felt the warm sensation again and something set me into a bucket filled with water. It felt great on my delicate fur until wind blowed all over me, the loud noise I had heard earlier started again and I was placed back into the bucket with my siblings and mother. Three weeks later. My eyes were opened. I could see my owner's, my mother, and my siblings, life was so full of color.

I lay in bed, my eyes squeezed shut in pure terror. The hair on the back of my arms and neck stand straight up on end. The window to the bedroom has just been pulled open from the outside, and I'm too afraid to move, too afraid to see the person who’s breaking into the house.

“Why would he do that?” Harry asked, his confusion bleeding through his previous hardness. “And if you believed that I was fictional, why did you—” He cut himself off with abruptness of a gunshot. Then he took another deep breath that he let out slowly. “I did not come here to fight any of you, even if I’m a bit miffed that you let Spencer just leave after he had died on a case.”

It didn’t take long for the few memories I had left to fade. Soon, I fell into the rhythm of the house without questioning anything. The fuzz in my brain went slowly away, but I failed to remember the details of my past. Even what happened in the alley had disappeared from my head. But I lost interest in finding out, falling in to my new life easily.

His fingers delicately weaved their way into my hair as our eyes met. My body was pressed up against his with nearly no space between us. Our mouths were slightly agaped, neither of us really knowing what to say. My heart was numb, but on fire at the same time. My breathing picked up and I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest.

Harry began going to Carmelo’s every day for lunch, hoping to see her once again. He found himself thinking about her, even when he wasn’t at the diner searching for her face. He began to lose hope after a few days of going to the diner and not seeing her. He wondered if maybe it was one of those once in a lifetime moments that required a braver man than him.

She thought it was over. His words had been final, driven with a hammer's blow into an eternally buried coffin.

I woke up and followed the herd. Every day was just the same. We wake, we walk, we stand around for a while, and then we go back. Fluffy wool puffs decorated the meadow all around me. Though, for some reason I knew I was different than them. In which way, I’m not sure—but whenever I get near, they look at me in disgust and I just don’t understand. I just want to stand with them; sunny skies or wet grass days, neither makes a difference to how they treat me. It’s always the same. I’m thetloner. I follow, but I do it alone. I finally found my mother lying in wide open space beneath the sun, I needed to know what was wrong with me. She just stared; was it how I looked—eyes of a mother staring at a face only she could love?