Personal Narrative: The House Of Creepy Mr. Wang-Woo

“Be careful, he’s not like us. I don’t want to see you get roped into anything.”

It was very quiet. Something in the corridor chittered loudly, like a shriek. It rattled both Vinyl and Octavia, but neither said anything. And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out its own roar that pounded away in Octavia. Then sound. “I have it there, just in case I can find my special somepony during my years at university.”

The sun shines through the small basement window of the house. It’s early morning beams piercing across the face of a young girl as she sleeps. It takes awhile for the brightness to penetrate her green eyes but when it does she stretches lazily under the covers closing those eyes for yet one more moment of dreams. She suddenly bolts upright as she remembers what today is.

“You told George where you were going?” I quickly reassured him I had not. “ No, I

The walls close in around me. I cannot not escape the endless, darkened walls of this cell. I sit in the corner, I see the sharp corners at each edge of the room. The dismal paint on each of the walls carries a burden of memories where men and women drawing closer and closer to their death had been scraping at the walls. Looking up from the corner of the cell, I see the light coming down from the window, it is the only hope and light that is left in this retched room in which they have confined me.

My foot started a steady tapping rhythm on the floor, and I could no longer stay seated. Time was not my ally, and my inevitable departure was looming over me. I gathered what was left of myself up off the floor and took one last tour of my

The agency I chose to interview was MyHouse at 300 North Willow in Wasilla, Alaska. Their mission is to provide safe shelter for homeless youth with a goal of connecting kids to a network of caring individuals and agencies able to assist them in becoming self-sufficient. They have a board of directors that meet regularly to discuss issues and where to go next with the agency.

I batted my eyelashes lined with sleep. For a moment, I was disoriented to where I was. I felt around the soft bed, waving around my arms frantically. The area next to we was cold; Ross was gone. I pushed my senses to get up, tempting myself with visions

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

It's night time. The lights are off, and it's dark. The only source of light is the white moonlight bleeding in through the half-opened blinds of the window, just barely illuminating the room enough to see. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can now see the familiar bedroom before you. It's a place where you used to

I awoke from my bed and sat up slowly. I set my feet down lightly on the plywood flooring and then stretched my arms upwards. I was still feeling a bit groggy and dazed because I stayed up until almost three in the morning counting the last residents that were returning from the all-night movies at the stadium. I was grateful that I had privacy now, since my last apartment was on the ground floor with seven other tenants and endless streams of people would walk by my window facing the street.

I closed my eyes. Everything went black. Like a mole, my fingers sniffed about and found the beginning. The stir of the audience quieted as the music began to swirl from the piano, strengthening and coiling into vibrant loops. It came to me, full, warm, and green.

A beam of early morning sunlight played on his face. He turned and scooted to another part of the bed in order to avoid waking. Within a few minutes the beam of sunlight had caught up with him again and was shining again directly on his eyelids. He lay there, his head in a fog, rubbed his eyes and stared at the white plastered walls trying to determine where he was and even who he was. The brightness of the room overwhelmed him with a fierce intensity. It was a few minutes before his eyes became accustomed to the light. He entertained his semi-waking mind by tracing patterns of the earthy colors on the tapestry that hung on the wall facing him. He rubbed his hands slowly on the bedsheet, felt a smoothness and said to himself, "This

Before I knew it, it was late at night and almost my bedtime. I made my way, up the stairs to the loft, slowly dragging my feet up each huge log stair from being so tired. I finally made my way up to the loft although the only light source was coming from one-single lit candle downstairs on the kitchen table. As I pulled the covers off the tiny twin bed, it was extremely hot, so I decided

I woke up before my alarm. A distant square of eerie half-twilight from the window held the familiar outline of the locust tree. In the dark, I fumbled to dress without waking my parents. I slipped outside.