Repair Man Narrative

Repair Man Narrative
I regretted not stopping at that gas station at the last turn I was hungry,lost,and almost out of gas. My
car was old and the radio and A.C. stopped working decades ago. I tried to take it to a repair man but
he said that not only was my A.C. and radio broken but my engine was broken well this car was
literally unfixable but I didn't have enough money for a new car or to repair this piece of junk. The
moon was full and the road was clear. I looked at the gas tank it was inching at zero "O god I"cried.
Then in my rear view mirror I saw a giant house. So big it almost covered the moon. It gave me a
chill up my spine like the house was calling to me wait for me. As I glanced in a daze at the house.
My car made a sputtering noise and then abruptly stopped. My car was out of gas.
I jumped out the car and slammed the door with anger. I was in deep trouble,"What should I do what
sould I do, I cried," Then it came to me what if I went to the ... Show more content on
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The room I was in was a cell and there was blood stains all over the walls. Then the floor was
covered in bones and flesh that was rotting. I then realized I was hanging from the ceiling I was
attached by a thick leather rope. I heard footsteps and my heart stopped. It was the man but he had a
mask a mime mask. He held one thing in each hand one was a key the other was a long sharp knife.
I wanted to scream but I couldn't shock had overwhelmed me and all I could do is stare. He slowly
opened the door and said with a sigh "I am sorry for such harsh conditions but it has to be done, you
see I need your body for my collage". Then he took the knife and dug it into my shoulder slowing
the pain was unbearable. He was carving my cutting me to shreds I cried in agony and pain then he
stopped he forcefully jabbed the knife into my collarbone and chuckled "Be right back don't go
anywhere". He strood of comly singing the phantom of the
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My First Day At School
I cried and cried but my mom insisted, "You have to go." I whined back, " I don't want to!"
Everyone was already in the car ready to go, and I refused to leave my home for eight hours without
my mom there with me. I eventually gave in and got in the car with my older sister, and brother.
The year was 2010 and it was the first day of first grade. The thought of leaving my mom everyday
terrified me. My brother and sister were already in the car ready to go, as I whined to my mom about
how it wasn't any fun. We argued back and forth, until I eventually gave in and got in the car. We
approached the school, and I held onto my mom's hand as tight as I could. We walked through the
two doors, and my stomach lurched at the site of all the people. I hated school last year. The only
good thing was being able to see my best friend from kindergarten, Liberty, and Mrs. Obrien, which
I called Mrs. Oreo. We stood in the back, and listened to the principle of the school welcome us
back. The bell rang, and we walked through the hall with all the other dozens of people. We turned
the corner and I saw her. She had a brown with blond streaks bob cut, and she was an average
height, but she wore a scowl on her face. When we got to her classroom I said bye to my mom and
walked in. I sat down next to Liberty on the round ABC carpet. Mrs. Meachum walked into the
classroom, and she went over the classroom rules, and she made us go around the classroom and say
our names. I was a very shy and

Essay On Weapons DonT Weep
And Weapons Don't Weep
When we were little you use to lock me in the closet. One time, Mother found me after she heard
crying. You said we were playing hide and seek. I did not recall playing, I think I must have missed
something when you screamed in my face and shoved me back into that closet, shut the doors.
Locked them. I never heard any hesitation, I never heard your feet still on the old floor boards when
I cried out because I was afraid of the dark. I screamed at first, and when you finally let me out I
listened to you convince me not to tell Mom. Dad wouldn't care, and I'm not sure how I knew that
even then, before he went mean, before he started to drink and place his hands on my delicate skin. I
have Mother's skin, you know. Fair ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
You left on the night of my ninth birthday, I'd counted the minutes until midnight and when I came
to tell you you were snapping off our window lock in your nice new boots with a bag slung across
your broad shoulders. When you saw me you stopped, but you didn't speak. Then, I'd found it funny
because you were Shade Santoro and you were the man who always had something to say. "Where
are you going?" I had asked unto the night, clothed in one of your old shirts with a stolen and stale
cake cupped in my small fingers.
"Away," You whispered with equal quiet. "Enzo––I'll be back soon, but I––"
"Can I come with you?"
"No."
"Why?" Cold air had pricked my skin and suddenly that little window had never looked more
interesting.
"Because you just can't."
"Why?"
"Because!" You said it because you knew I'd hate it, because you knew I very much liked to know
things and that 'because' was not something you easily argued with.
"I'll be good..." I promised, and I knew I must have sounded pathetic. A child, I was waiting for you
to scream, to shove me back to the ground just so I could watch you standing over me so powerful.
You didn't, instead you stared as I attempted to make myself look as miserable as I felt. When
Mother was here, you were always good at that. I tried to mimic how you'd curled your shoulders in,
how you made your mouth into such and odd line and averted your eyes, but I was not you and
instead the window swung open.
"I know," You finally whispered, but

War Essay
Weird silence filled the air. It was a cold and relatively peaceful night on January 2005. Almost all
citizens hid in their rooms to protect themselves from the war. The sky was completely dark with no
light on streets. All of a sudden, the dark silent night was put to an end as six–year–old Samar
Hassan was screaming and crying. A car was approaching in the dark when several American
soldiers were patrolling a main road of northern Iraq's Tal Afar which was a town rife with
insurgents. Concerning that the vehicle might carry insurgents and suicide bombs, the soldiers began
to flash lights and waved arms to indicate the car to stop. However, the Hassans didn't see the sign
but kept driving forwards. After receiving a command from an ... Show more content on
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Thousands of Iraqis suffer from the pain and trauma caused by the war, but the story of Samar again
stands out. Rakan, Samar's brother, was hit by a bullet in his spin which was the most vulnerable
part of our body. He was seriously wounded in the tragedy, and he was sent to Boston for treatment
after Hondros's photos were published. Although Rakan was fortunate enough to survive from the
tragedy, he was again haunted by death. Rakan died three years after their parents's death when an
insurgent attack badly bombing the house where they live in.
* * * I remember the first time when my older sister left our family to study aboard for such a long
time. It was a normal night–dinner was served at 6:30, everyone took their own seat–except there
was a weird silence during dinner. No one would like to talk but have dinner quietly. I knew that my
older sister cried when she said goodbye to us at the airport. It was her and also mine fist time being
apart from each other in 17 years. On our way back home, my older sister texted us to read the letter
that she hid in the car. I didn't read the letter until I locked my room's door. In the letter, my sister
reminded me that I was the one who should take care of both my parent and little brother now. Also,
she told me that she trusted me I could do it and she would always be there if I need any help. I
cried. I cried so hard. But I could not make any noise so

The Cold, Silent House
He, who meant everything to my life, was laying helplessly on the floor, shaking violently like an
uncontrollable earthquake. But, I could not do anything about it, and I did not know what to do. All I
did was stand there and watch, and cry, and be useless. I regret so much what I did not do. During it
all, outside snow was gently falling to the ground while the winter season just began. My eleven
year old body was snuggled against the corner of my couch curled up into a ball–like shape. My five
year old dog and I were alone in the cold, silent house before it all happened. No matter how young
you are, staying calm is only way to be useful in a critical situation.
I was curled up on my favorite corner of the couch with Buddy, my dog, on ... Show more content
on Helpwriting.net ...
His entire body remained still, except his distressings eyes locked in a gaze with my eyes, as if he
was trying to tell me something. I knew something was wrong because everytime I talked in that
high pitched doggy voice to Buddy, he would alway wags his tail and waver his long, wet tongue
back and forth in the air. My heart beated a tiny bit faster.
"Hey Buddy what's wrong baby," I asked him in the same tone of voice hoping for him to show me
some sign that he is okay. His tail remained still and his eyes remained locked on mine. I could not
figure out what was wrong with him. Suddenly, his eyes started to gently close. My heart quickly
dropped to my stomach like a fast elevator on its way down from the top floor to the lobby. I did not
know what was happening. Was he dying? Was he sleeping? Was he sick? Trying to find the missing
pages to this, I realized I had to do something. I unwrapped myself from the fuzzy blue polka dotted
blanket and laid next to my dog. I noticed he was shaking a little bit.
"Hey Bud, are you cold?" I asked him hoping that was it. I took the blanket that I was just using and
put it on him. I needed to call my mom. I could not find a house phone. I went upstairs hoping it was
in parents bed like usual. That was a mistake. I came down stairs empty handed frustrated with my
inconsiderate family for always misplacing the house phones. I went to check on Buddy. He was in
a different spot on the carpet as he was before.
"This

A Short Story : A Story?
I'm Kellie Clarkson I have an amazing life, ok I meant to say had. I had a best friend, family,
friends, and even my own killer haha but I don't have anyone now because of October 13th the night
everything went away. I hope you're not like everyone else and think I'm crazy just sit back and
enjoy as I tell you about my crazy life.
It all started when I woke up I looked out my window to a stranger staring at me I rubbed my eyes
and poof he was gone so I thought I was seeing stuff and carried on with my day. I got ready for
school and went downstairs kissed my momma good morning and hugged my dad then my amazing
little brother was next I picked him up like it was my first time seeing him in forever. I loved him
with all my heart! Then I left for school I'm a senior at Jackson high school so obviously, I drove I
picked up my best friend like I do everyday first Viola Jackson the most popular girl at the school.
Next Delilah Marie she always had the best fashion the last I picked up was the identical twins Alec
and Jace Bridgewater Alec is the captain on the football team and Jace is the captain of the baseball
team. I have the best friends in the world but as the day went on things had gotten way worse!
My friends and I got to the school and we all went to everyone's locker one at a time and just talked
about this huge party happening at Alec and Jace house while their family is gone. Then the bell
rang we all split up and the school day went by until lunch we all meet up

Straight Line-Personal Narrative
Although, Straight Line was hurt, I refused to give up, I endlessly searched to locate a replacement
horse. Thus came Princess, a buckskin mare that I borrowed from an acquaintance of my sisters. My
mother and I traveled to Goodland for a little test run and at the end of the day we hauled her home.
Thrilled is not a word I would use to describe the idea of running on her, but what choice did I have.
I needed a horse, any horse to ride at the finals, since Straight Line was no longer able to run.
Princess and my personalities clashed, there is only room for one princess and I already occupied
that position. Trust me when I say that typically mares have bigger attitudes, than most teenage girls.
Even though, I gave it my best shot, considering my situation, we just could not find a rhythm
together. Despite of my efforts, I knew it was going to be a long week as I unsaddled her after the
worst practice that I had ever had. Consequently, I remember walking to the barn from the arena and
feeling the blood run down my leg from clobbering the barrels. I had bruises, all up and down my
legs, from plowing into barrels during our one and only practice. Finals were approaching fast and I
could ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I unsaddled Princess, changed out of my jeans, and accepted I was done. The relief came after I
finally reined in my tears, but then came the flood of embarrassment. I plowed over all three barrels
on a national stage. My loving family which they are, laughed and still laugh about my horrible run.
Typically, I can handle an embarrassing situation, but the fact that it was broadcasted on national
television discouraged me. Even today the video is re–ran on RFD–TV. I am not longer affected by
the laughs or the jokes made on my behalf, I even join in every now and then. The experience taught
me that sometimes life is going to suck; however, it is so much better when you laugh at

Personal Narrative-My Hero's Journey To Success
TOGETHER AGAIN ''If you're lost, just look for me... You'll find me in the region of the summer
stars'' I sang along with them, One Direction. I stood with Lou and Lux in the VIP section
surrounded by screaming fangirls. Lou Teasdale was One Direction's hair stylist and Lux Atkin was
her daughter, and I am Niall Horan's sister, Faith Horan. Living the life of a small–celebrity,
YouTuber, and touring with One Direction. Being Niall Horan's sister is every directioners' dream,
it's nice and but, hate/death threats. I always see at least one comment or tweet about how I "don't
deserve to be Niall's sister" or "You only want the fame". Traveling from place to place without my
best friend, Summer Everett was hard, but i did have a family with me, the 1D Family. Summer
Everett, my "sister" is always there for me. When I turned 18, I decided to move to the sunny
Southern California. We live in LA together, while my parents, Bobby Horan and Maura Gallagher,
divorced, lived in separate houses in Ireland. The concert ended with "Best Song Ever" and I
disappeared in the crowd. I drove home by myself singing along to Taylor Swift. I tried to rush
home because Summer hasn't texted or call ever since I left, I ... Show more content on
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This video is a real goodbye. My best friend, Summer Everett died two and a half months ago. She
died telling me. I felt disappointed because how a terrible friend I was. I didn't know that she was
struggling with anorexia nervosa, which is when you are too insecure about your body weight and
you start to starve yourself, but you throw up when you do eat. Summer wasn't open to me which
makes me feel like she doesn't trust me or our friendship. I'm sorry if you are bored of this video,
but I decided to end this. I love you guys watching this, Niall, Louis, Liam, Harry, Lou, Lux, Lottie,
Paul, Danny, Cameron, Mum, Dad, and others. I'm sorry if I disappointed you guys, but I want to be
with my best friend again. I love you guys, forever and

Persuasive Essay On Forgiveness
I Believe in Forgiveness
I always imagined the power of forgiveness to be something magical like once you forgave someone
everything changed that you no longer felt pain and those memories would not haunt you I thought
it was make you free. Seeing what I did to my family and myself I now know what forgiveness truly
means.
It began with a wound one that seemed that it was so deep and would never heal. For years I tried
hiding and protecting that part of me. November will be the anniversary of when the police saved
me, I still remember it all every detail the looks of the officer's face when he carried me out of that
closet. The tears that went down the officer's face who had to take my statement and listened to
every detail that had ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I wouldn't talk to anyone I never answered my families calls or messages. I thought it was what I
needed to be okay but I was worse than ever I became so paranoid I would walk around the house
locking and relocking every window and door I would sleep with a bat beside me. The fear I had
took over my life I did nothing I wouldn't go outside the house and as crazy as it may seem anytime
I heard something or got scared I would run to the closet because I was used to that being my safe
place the place where I knew if I was there I wasn't being beaten or tortured it was my safe small
space.
Not once did I even think about forgiving him for what he did I was set on hating him and holding
on to all that pain and anger. Until I was faced with reality I was going to surprise my family with a
visit, but instead I sat in the woods for hours staring at my family. They were happy and playing
with all the kids laughter echoed through the trees I was not apart or needed in my family I was just
a memory of a lost soul. I called my mom I watched her look at her phone and put it down I saw her
start crying as my sisters and dad rushed to her side I heard them tell her that there was nothing
anyone could do to help me anymore. I Made it this way I couldn't accept what had happened to me
so I ran and pushed everyone who was close to me away. This moment was when I realized what I
had done to my

Personal Statement : ' Crap '
"Crap! What have I done?" That is all that came to mind as I heard the wood splinter and crack. I did
not even care about the puddle of blood that was beginning to form under my leg. In fact, I was not
even conscious of it. All I could think about was how much trouble I was going to be in when my
parents found out.
It has been almost two years since I got into that crash. It happened on a Saturday night when I was
supposed to be at home and in my bed. My parents, who were going out to a concert, had ordered
my brother, David, and I not to go out that night. However, as soon as they left, I received a text. It
was my best friend, Lilly, telling me that she and some other friends were leaving a party to go hang
out at the Waffle House near ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Before I knew it, it was almost midnight and my parents were going to be home at any minute. In
fact, they had just called to say that they would be there in about ten minutes.
"Ten minutes! How am I going to get back in ten minutes?" I panicked. My perfect plan was falling
apart and I did not know what to do, so I decided to take a dimly–lit shortcut home, hoping that I
would make it there before they did.
I was almost home when it happened. I am not quite sure of how exactly it happened – maybe it was
because of that night's excitement or the fact that I was struggling to see – but before I knew it,
something was cracking. I had hit what felt like a tree upon contact and my windshield was
cracking. I had hit a light post.
I blacked out for a few seconds and when I finally regained consciousness, it felt like I had been
sleeping for a while. My head was throbbing and I could not understand what was going on. "Where
am I?" I thought, and that is when it hit me.
"Crap! What have I done?" I yelled at myself
"I can die any day, except for today. I cannot die today!" I cried.
It was also then that I noticed that my leg felt weird – almost wet. I looked down and pouring out of
my leg, like crimson rain, was blood. There was so much blood and not knowing what to do, I cried
even harder. I surely thought that I was going to bleed out that night. Then, remembering that there
was a pile of clothes in the backseat, I grabbed one and wrapped it around my

Sticks and Stones, The Names Did Hurt Me Essay
Tick Tock... Tick Tock... Tick Tock.... Tick Tock.... God, when will the day bloody end. I was sitting
in Geography listening to the teacher drone on about tectonic plates. Like what is the deal with
tectonic plates? We learn it in Physics, Chemistry AND Geography... I had 2 periods of
Geography...and it was getting close to the end of the torture! I had no idea why I was there. I mean
Geography is fucking boring and I have to do it for my GCSEs. GCSES! I mean, I chose history
because I thought it was interesting and enjoyable but then, everyone had to choose it so the teachers
just told me that I had to go to Geography. Thank you to all the people who are doing History now! I
absolutely love you! I mean the teachers asked me if that ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net
...
Problem is, she used to be my only friend, back in the day. She was the new girl and we clicked. We
liked the same things and we promised to each other that we would never leave each other.
However, I could see now that we knew nothing about each other. The only thing she knew about
me was that I was called Cassandra and I really liked Barbie and Bratz. Anyways, 2 months after,
she gradually started finding popularity and power and those two things definitely weren't found
with me. She started hanging around the 'cool girls' for a couple days and then hung out with me,
when she wasn't busy but, eventually she ditched me. But come on... you can't forget your first
friend... even after 6 years. *** "No one wants to be friends with you because you're a loser! A
loner" she hissed in my ear. Then, my whole head was enveloped in water. "You are a nobody. No
one likes you. Maybe, because you stink! Hope this will help you become less stinkier!" she
laughed. Tears were rolling down my face. All I did was want things to be back to normal. A few
hours ago "Hey" "Oh... hey" she looked worried. She was looking around her friends to see if any of
them were taking notice of us. Everyone on the table was looking at us. "Erm... I just wanted to
know if you wanted to hang out again since, you know you haven't been coming to my house lately
and you also don't play with me no more. Mummy said that we can–" "Oh please!" she interrupted.
"Why

My Father : A Short Story
November 2, 2017 was the first day that I would never see my father again. I no longer felt the
comfort of the sound of the trickling water through the walls when he would shower and the feeling
of accomplishment when I could make him belly laugh. I had gone to work for the night and, half
way through my shift a police officer came in. The police officer took my boss outside to speak with
him. My co–workers and I joked around about who it was gonna be. I assured them that it was not
anything I had done. When my boss came back inside he looked at me with genuinely worried eyes.
He told me that I needed to go with the police officer, he could not tell me why but I just needed to
go. I started to panic. My heart was beating louder than a drum and I could hear it radiating from my
brain down to my toes. The short car ride felt like forever and once I got to my house I gasped at the
sight of three more police cars in my driveway. I busted through the door to find my mother sitting
on the couch, her leftover mascara dried to her cheeks was streaked down her face in long strings .
When she saw me, she began to cry. It was not the kind of cry when you fall off your bike or fail an
important test. It was a screeching moan and the only emotion that her eyes could show was
heartbreak.
1 Day Later: I woke up the next morning like nothing had happened. It was strange to think how
everything could feel the same but, be so different. I laid in my bed for a while before going

Personal Narrative Essay : The Most Embarrassing Day Of My...
Nighttime came all too quickly. I was in my purple–painted room, laboriously working on my
homework while sitting on my bed–my designated desk since I didn't actually have one. Outside my
door, my mom was bustling about in the kitchen looking for who knows what and my little brother
was probably in his room secretly playing some sort of online game. It was a typical evening.
Normally my dad would be home watching sports whatever, but instead, he was at his annual one–
week long fishing trip with my oldest brother Mike. Mike was in college, and we rarely saw him
anymore.
"Hey Sarah, Sarah?" My mom's voice called.
"Yes, mother?" I called, trying to hide my irritation, this was the sixth time she had called my name
in the last half hour to ask a question. The door banged opened, and my mom barged inside.
"Have you seen my crockpot?"
"No mother, I have not," I said courteously, keeping my eyes locked on my assignment sheet.
"Oh darn. Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask you, how was school today?"
"School?" I squeaked. Oh you know, it was the most embarrassing day of my life, I cried, got
pummeled in the back of the head, fell in love, cried some more, met a gorgeous woman who
wanted me to become a stripper. The usual. "It was alright, nothing that special."
"Oh, well that's nice."
"Hey, mom?"
"Yes?"
"When you were in high school, did you care how you looked like?"
"In high school? Oh no," my mom said screwing her face and stepping closer. "I never thought twice
about my looks.

Lenore Alexander Narrative
Lenore Alexander. The name still to this day that name sends a dejected feeling straight through my
body with unrelenting force. I have never experienced pain like the pain that was felt on February
11, 2014. This was the day that my Nana was taken all too soon from this world. Taken from me.
But first I shall start at the beginning. Lenore Van Natta was the most giving individual you could
ever find. She gave so much to everyone and never expected anything in return. Her doors were
always open to anyone in need and as soon as you walked in you would be greeted with open arms
and a smile every time. She practically raised me after my mom went back to work and she made
everything fun. She taught me my colors in one day using M&Ms. ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
She told stories that began to have new meaning when she told them for the last time. They felt
deeper and drive themselves further into my heart where they still reside. Nana then went on to
explain how she was sick of fighting and her one wish was for us to just let her go peacefully. At the
time I was so angered by her selfishness. How could she give up when my aunt had another baby on
the way. A baby that would never know her grandmother. A baby who would never know the
warmth of her hugs. I begged her to stay. I cried at her side begging her to stay so we could make
more memories like the ones that she had just told. She refused and told me to stay strong with a
smile that I took the wrong way. I was so angry at her. How could she abandon her family? How
could she be so greedy to do this? I told her I loved her and walked out of the room in a rage and
when I got to the hallway I collapsed in an immense rush of emotions. This competes for the lowest
part of my life. I sobbed on the floor and didn't care who saw me or when a kind nurse tried to help
me up. I was frozen in anguish as my mind tried to figure out what was happening. If I had known

Grief : A Short Story
Grief is like the ocean, sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we need
to do to survive it is learn how to swim. Losing her was like a tsunami and learning to swim was like
moving a mountain, but inch by inch, my mountain of grief moved on.
On a fateful November day, my aunt called my mother. This was usual, so I thought nothing of it
until she hung up. When I saw the shock on my mother's face I knew right away that something was
wrong, but it wasn't until my older sister asked that we knew the devastating news. My grandmother
needed surgery, but not something minor, she needed heart surgery and my mother wanted to be
with her during her time in the hospital. My siblings and I begged our mother to let us come with
her, but she said no, when my mother made up her mind that was that and there was no way around
it. The day my mother left for the hospital, we all gave her a kiss and a hug and told her to tell
Granny we loved her, my mother smiled at this and promised to tell her, but she didn't know at that
time what would happen not even four days later.
My mother returned three days later with a poker face even my father couldn't read and she sat the
whole family down in the living room, as she breathed in a deep breath my stomach churned
uneasily. When the words escaped her lips I broke down, I didn't care if I was acting like a baby.
"Guys, the surgery didn't go too well. Granny's gone." Those words changed my life forever. My
mother later

The House On Mango Street Analysis
The Novel, The House on Mango Street, was based on the writer Sandra Cisneros. She was writing
this when she was living in Chicago. She was like Esperanza. She want though poverty. She has
been heartbroken and deeply joyous. She inventing for herself who and what she will become. This
is the life of Esperanza Cordero and based on Sandra Cisneros to all women out there.
Throughout the novel, Esperanza tells us that she doesn't like the house on Mango Street. When we
first meet her, she tells us about the places that her family have moved. "...Before that we lived on
Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler. Before Keeler it was Paulina, and
before that I can't remember" (Cisneros 3). Each time they've moved, the kids had to go to a new
school and the parents had to find jobs that are closer to them. Meaning that they are learning things
that could have learned before or they are just now learning the material and not really
understanding the information. When you beg for something your parents you can get it most of the
time. "In the canteen, which was nothing special, lots of boys and girls watched while I cried and ate
my sandwich, the bread already greasy and the rice cold" (45). This just shows that begging your
parents for something it not always a good idea. Greasy bread and cold rice does not seem too
appealing for a lunch meal. Even though Esperanza and her family seem like they have a poor life,
they are not really that poor. At least they have a

The Lessons I Learned From Failure
The crowd around me had mixed emotions. Some people were excited they made the All–State
Choir, however, some were devastated that they didn't make it. I was devastated. I was so confident
I was going to make it that I didn't consider what would happen if I didn't make it. After the results
were called, I silently cried on my mom's shoulder thinking about the work I put into the audition
process. Two years later, I finally recognized the lessons that I learned from failure. Failure taught
me to not to be conceited, to consider every possibility, and whenever I am knocked down I need to
stand up stronger than I was before. My failure was engendered by being conceited. Every day I
regret it more and more. The year before, my freshman year, I had made the All–State Choir.
Accomplishing that as a freshman has been the greatest achievement I have ever had. However, the
next year I didn't practice like I did the year before. I slacked off on my competition music, my solo,
and my sight–reading. Life as I knew it changed after that competition. The world came crashing
down on me, suffocating from the fluffy dream I was living in. Confidence failed me for the rest of
that year; I no longer believed that I was the amazing singer I thought I was. However, the lack of
confidence boosted my urge to practice more; to prove that it was only a flaw of not making the
choir. As it turns out, failing to make the choir was a salient part in making me who I am today.
Many would argue that the

Dream Essay: My Dream
This dream happened a year or two from today; I remember that was also the longest day I ever had
since there was a school activity and it was a huge gathering that made all the students in my junior
high stressed and depressed. So I went home by 6:30 pm from school and immediately rushed to my
bedroom to rest, obviously; I did not mind changing my clothes to "pambahay" and not even close
to deciding if I should take a bath and cleanse myself to have a good and deep sleep. And then
finally I went to sleep, the moment I closed my eyes I felt like I was already sleeping even if I was
still conscious that I am still in the process of going to sleep. I saw red, blue, yellow, and green
lights flickering and I felt it was dragging me into another world. It happened so fast and the next ...
Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Anyway going back to my dream, I was already an adult, cuddling with a doctor but I knew I was
married to a lawyer because my husband called me and his name flashed on my phone screen, his
name was Harvey. Yes, Harvey Specter from the American law inspired television show but it is so
strange because I only started watching the show this year yet this dream happened two years ago.
The next thing that happened was the weirdest portion of my dream; I was flying roof to roof and
literally sticking my body to walls. Everyone in that place was naked and gel–o jelly like. Following
that, I fell in to a well, I shouted but there was no voice coming out, and then I landed to an upside
down world where everything was upside down except for

Descriptive Essay About My New Home
It's a beautiful day in the shelter of New York and there were a lot of people, I said to myself. I was
hoping that someone soon will adopt me, then a girl came near me looked at me I wanted to get her
attention, so I danced she laughed. She walked away and came back with a big man, who got me out
me of the cage put me in a big box I got worried because I couldn't see anything everything was
pitch black.
The box opened there where was amazing sun light then I saw my beautiful owner she grabbed me
gently and took me out of the dark box, as my owner took me out with her soft hands I knew we
were soul mates I loved her and she loved me. In a short time, we got to this "My new home" that's
what my owner said we went inside it was the most beautiful place in the world It had a lot of space,
not like the shelter. Then an old woman came I think that is the owner's mom and she screamed
"Aww Is really adorable ""He will Grey brother or friend.. It's fine." "What is his name?". My owner
said "His name is Golden" The old woman hugged me and kissed me she was sweet, but I really did
not know who were they talking about this "Grey". Suddenly the door opened and I heard a loud
bark.
The door opened and I saw a Oreo looking dog he was cool and amazing I wanted to greet him I
walked towards him, but he smirked at me and growled at me but my owner told Grey to be nice
with the puppy. I didn't knew what I have done to him to make him so mad ,I said to myself that I'll
talk to him and try to

Creative Writing: Starbuck's Parody
"STOP, IM GONNA CRY" I yelled at Jenny as she kept cracking hilarious jokes and making me
laugh so hard I cry. We both bursted out laughing and smiling. "Im bored" She said dragging the D
in bored.
"I kinda want starbucks right now." I said slumping down on the couch. "Same though" she replied
"I have money."
"Yeah let's just call starbucks ask if they do delivery." I said.
"No silly there's a Starbucks in King Soopers." she answered
"You mean the one that's like 15 minutes away?" I asked "Only ten if we run" She replied
"Okay fine but I'm not changing" I said crossing my arms like a toddler that didn't get their way.
"Okay, let's go" She said springing out of her chair."
We made our way up the stairs and to the door. ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"To defend ourselves." she answered. KNOCK!
"Holy cow– what?" I stood in the living room in shock.
"No way." She whispered
"Yes, way." I cried out "That can't be." She croaked
"I mean your dad doesn't get home until 2 am, and it's only 10:09" I whispered glancing at the clock
on the oven. KNOCK. "Grab anything that could be used as a weapon!" She quietly demanded
"Got it!" I rushed to the kitchen and tiptoed to the knife drawer, "Ah Perfect." I thought to myself as
I pulled out a large butcher knife. KNOCK!
"Omg! Hurry!" She called to me. "One second." I told her as I quietly tiptoed to the window, slowly
I pulled the curtain back and covered my mouth with my hand. There on the front porch stood a tall
man in all black. I ran away as fast as possible down to Jenny. "I SAW HIM HE'S OUT THERE!" I
said quite loudly "Shut up!" she demanded. "Do you want him to hear us? "Obviously not." I said
"Then be quieter." She said shaking her head
I then made my way to the couch where I noticed a tall bucket with a pumpkin painted on it. "What's
this?" I

Reflecting On A Time Is My Life When I Experience Chaos,...
Reflect on a time in my life when I experience chaos, huh?
Hoo boy.
A little over a year ago, I had just ordered dinner through GrubHub. I was kvetching to a friend
about how underappreciated I felt in life and was generally feeling sorry for myself. Then...my
phone rang. It was my mom. It was a phone call I'll never forget. As soon as I answered I knew
something was wrong. "Amanda? It's me. You need to come to the hospital. Something has
happened. It's your dad. I think it's pretty serious."
I don't remember putting shoes on, but I must have. I stumbled around my apartment on the phone. I
jumped in the car and cursed myself for not getting gas earlier. I whipped in the first gas station on
the way. I vaguely remember it being cold and wishing I'd had my coat. I put in enough gas to get
me where I was going. I called one coworker to tell her to tell my boss I wouldn't be in. And then I
called my best friend. I don't remember the conversation, only that we decided if it was a heart
attack he'd probably be okay. People come back from those all the time, after all.
I got to the ER. I didn't bother looking for a good parking space, I just found one and parked. I
sprinted to the front door and walked in. I made it to the front counter. I barely got out, "My dad..."
and the nurse nodded. She took me into the special family waiting room. I knew then that things
were not okay. (You see, my mom has been in and out of hospitals with asthma related issues so I

Gifted Program-Personal Narrative
When I was younger, I've always done well in school. I got things done and did them well, got high
scores, and that's how I got into the gifted program. Only a few months ago I started questioning my
efforts.
Once I did, it started out small, and I kept it bottled up inside me because I didn't want anyone to
know. However, one night I let it all out. Everything that was held inside of me just became a burst
of tears. Everything I thought about myself was all negative. I felt like I wasn't being good enough, a
disappointment.
Math was a struggle for me, and I wasn't doing well on the tests. Usually, writing was my skill point,
something I was good at, but my friends were better. Yes, a three is still good, but not good enough.
My friends got all fours, while I was stuck in "Meeting Expectations". My ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
After I had calmed down for a bit she asked if she was trying too hard, or took the kids too seriously.
I said no, and that she had every right to be disappointed with me, but I also told her that that wasn't
the only reason I was crying. Once I did the tears started to pour out again. I finally turned around
and looked at her, and we embraced. It was the first time I had told anyone this, and I had chosen
my sister. Not my mom, not my dad, but my sister.
Later I found out she had trouble with school too, and so I was comforted that I wasn't the only one.
We were just together on my small bed, and the thoughts slowly went away.
Every time I look back on this moment, I can feel tears coming back. Maybe because of the feelings
I had, or maybe how much my sister cared for me. Sure enough, those dark thoughts come back
once in a while, but I've always brushed them off. And this I believe is thanks to the love my sister
showed me while giving me the encouragement to make those tiny steps into boosting up my
confidence. Someone will always be there for you, even if you don't believe it or recognize

My Love In My Life
I used to believe in happily ever after's. I used to believe that marriage was a beautiful beginning
that joined two hearts as one. I really believed that my marriage would be filled with happiness,
laughter, and endless, wonderful memories, but little did I know that the next year would turn my
life upside down.
I got married at very young age and moved to a whole new state and city hoping for the best. I
married an alcoholic in denial... I close my eyes and see it all, see all the damage and pain that I
have endured. There were so many endless nights of counting the beers and carrying her up the
stairs because she was too drunk to move; so many nights I cried myself to sleep and felt so
hopeless that this was my life, a nightmare I was living. My wife was very unpredictable when she
would drink and because of that I did not care for going out. I consumed myself into making sure
she was ok because everything was always about her. I would tell myself if she were happy in her
own toxic way then everything would be fine, however; I lost my self more and more and no longer
knew who I was as a person, let alone a woman.
Towards the beginning of the year, I received my acceptance letter from Penn State's Nursing
Program. I cried as I read the words, "Congratulations! You've been accepted to Penn State's
Nursing Program." Finally all the hard work and so many closed doors paid off. My dream of
becoming a nurse was finally going to come true, but that excitement and joy soon died

Getting to the End
I was too tired and weak to bother protesting anymore. Long had it been since the fight had left me.
Now I watched as if an outsider as my limp body was shoved onto a packed train that would take us
to our deaths. If we didn't die on the way first. Time passed me without meaning and the train took
off with a lurch. We flew over track, and the effect of so many bodies crammed together was
stifling. Perhaps we weren't humans at all, but the other species the Germans talked about and said
didn't deserve the air they breathed. Were we not in fact, packed like animals on their way to the
slaughterhouse? Surely a human would never be treated this way. But a distant memory tugged at
me of a time when I did mean something. Before I was branded with the name 'Jew' and my former
friends turned me out. A hacking cough from next to me aroused me into motion. Turning my head,
the delicate bones in my neck ached. My heart grew heavy at the sight in front of me, but by now I
had seen many sights far worse than the one laid out before me. She looked more like a shell of a
person than anything else. Her clothes were threadbare, and her arms and legs weren't much more
than sticks. Her eyes were closed, and I couldn't perceive any movement in her at all. Just another
one dead, I thought, but just as I was turning my head away from her, her eyelids fluttered open. Pity
overtook me, knowing these were her last few moments, and I turned back to her. "What's your
name?" I asked quietly, my

Clans: A Narrative Fiction
Clans
I looked down the battle field, ashes of broken warriors and monsters covered the ground. I needed
to get back to Earth Clan. I turned around to see a creature, mumbling unspoken words to me. I
pulled back my bow, arrow in place, but the monster charged and I didn't have enough time to shoot.
I pulled out my sword, and swung it this way and that. The wretched creature whipped me on my
hip. I gasped in pain. With one quick shot–with–an–arrow, the monster lay, dead. All in five
seconds, it disappeared and turned to ashes. I winced in pain, holding my hip. I turned and looked to
the Dark Side. Fire and Air Clan lived over there. The darkness edged closer, beckoning me to go in
it. I shook my head and headed for Earth Clan territory. ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"I think we should do it. They are too strong," SophiAnne whispered. I wanted to listen in more, but
Mik called my name.
"What?" I asked, tiny snowflakes sparkling in my hair.
"Your–your brother. He's... in critical condition. Fire Clan attacked and he was doing most of the
fighting. You should go." Mik tried to comfort me.
I ran down to Maiyea's medicine treehouse. Harlem was on the bed, suffering. I cried into his chest,
kneeling at the bed. "Hey, Ashy," he whispered into my hair. "Har–Harlem don't... go," I sniffed. "It's
okay.. shh.. shh..," he tried to calm me down.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around. Reibal. I tensed. I stood up and hugged him, my tears
seeping into his shirt. I looked at Harlem, as his eyes slowly closed. I cried and cried and cried into
Reibal's comforting body, but it only made me feel a little better. Reibal kissed my the top of my
head. I tensed again, but only for a little while. Reibal finally got me to go back to my treehouse, by
picking me up and carrying me there. He tucked me in to

Reflection Paper On Being A Nurse
This semester has been a wild ride from start to finish. When I look back I can't believe how far
we've all come in such a short amount of time. I used to struggle with taking blood pressure and
now I think I could do it in my sleep. I used to be so afraid that I would screw up and kill my patient
because I misheard something (honestly, I still am) but now it's easier to get out of my head and be
confident in my ability. I'm thankful for all the hours that my professors and clinical instructor put in
to help me learn the practical skills I need to go and do my assessments with confidence and ability.
I'm not going to lie, there have been many, many times where I've doubted my desire and ability to
be a nurse. But for every time I've ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
She loves to talk (mostly when I'm trying desperately to hear lung or heart sounds or I'm trying to
check her RR), and because she constantly forgets "what comes next?" I get to practice telling her
over and over again what I'm doing. Best of all though, she was incredibly patient even when she
realized I had no idea what I was doing. Watching how hard everyone at the LTC facility worked
made the moments of laughter and free time so much sweeter. When I helped in the shower room I
laughed until I cried and I realized that I wanted to stay. I realized my stomach wasn't that weak
when I followed the wound care nurse and watched her clean pressure ulcers, I loved passing meds
and realizing that I had more knowledge in my head than I thought, I loved feeding people (strange
isn't it?) it's a humbling experience for both me and the resident being fed, but it allowed me to
practice reading nonverbal cues and talk to residents other than my patient. I loved being "chased"
by a mischievous patient, smiled at, and given advice. I loved the people side of clinicals far more
than the assessments. There are more tiny memories, patches that fill the holes that doubt and fear
have left in my desire but this paper is going to be way to long if I include them in an articulate
manner. So I'll leave a little portion in my list

Personal Narrative Essay
I ride my bike around my neighbourhood five times every Sunday night. I enjoy the routine of the
same distance, at the same time, on the same day. It's calming. Last night was different though. I
wanted to push myself to the absolute limit. I wanted to ride until my legs burned, and then some.
It's the only time I'm ever alone with my thoughts, you know? Anyway, last night while I was biking
around my neighborhood, something caught my eye as I rode by the trees that separate two roads.
There was a brand new shoe in the road. I hopped off my bike to go look at it and noticed the second
one a few feet in front of it. I went to check that one out and saw a couple pairs of shoes in a pile up
against a tree. I assumed there were some kids playing amongst the trees. As I biked along the road a
little more, I saw them. There was only one girl in the group, & they all looked to be around my age.
I had never seen them before, so I wanted to go say hello and see if they were new to the
neighborhood. As I approached them, they stopped playing and came up to me. I told them my name
was Delaney and I asked if they were new to the neighborhood. The girl in the group introduced
herself as Etty, and the second person to introduce themselves looked like they could be my brother.
His name was Peyton, and we both had large eyes, black hair, pointy chins, espresso skin tones, and
high cheekbones. The last one in the group was a little younger than us, and his name was Jeremy.
He told me that

Courage In Roll Of Thunder, Hear My Cry
The students at some point have to show courage, if someone is being bullied, mistreated, or just
sad. Courage is showing bravery and just doing what's right. In Mildred Taylorś book, Roll of
Thunder Hear my Cry. Stacey has to show courage, when he took the blame for T.J. cheating..
Stacey also had to show courage by, coming up with the idea of digging the trench, and Stacey got
everyone involved with the idea of digging the trench, for the bus to fall in.
Stacey shows courage by taking the blame for T.J.'s cheat sheet, and gets punished.
When Stacey takes the blame for T.J.'s cheat sheet, he shows courage because T.J. was going to get
into big trouble and Stacey didn't want T.J. to get into trouble so what Stacey done was....
Stacey took the blame for T.J.'s cheat sheet. In my opinion, Stacey showed a big amount of courage
when that happened. On page 60–61 in Chapter 4, it says "T.J. turned back to Stacey. "You ready for
that history test?" "Hope so," said Stacey. "But I keep forgetting them dates." "Betcha I could help
ya, if you be nice." "How? You worse than I am 'bout dates." T.J. grinned, then slyly pulled a folded
sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Stacey.
Stacey unfolded it, looked at it curiously, then frowned. "You planning on cheating?" "Well, naw, I
... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"What's everybody waiting 'round for?" "And where's Stacey?" demanded Little Man. Little WIllie
smiled. "Stacey inside with Miz Logan. He got whipped today." "Whipped!" I cried. "Why, can't
nobody whip Stacey. Who done it?" "Your Mama," laughed Little WIllie. "Mama!" Christopher–
John, Little Man, and I exclaimed. "Why'd Mama do that?" asked Christopher–John. "She caught
him with cheat notes during the history examination." So, as the book said Stacey took the blame for
a big deal, Stacey didn't care if he got in trouble. Stacey was just wanting to make sure T.J. didn't get
in trouble. Stacey took and showed a big sign of courage in Chapter

Personal Narrative On Accepted Suicide
Each day in the USA 5,240 young people, grades 7–12, attempt suicide, I was one of the lucky ones
who survived.I started my 7th grade year in Arizona. We moved back so my mom could keep
custody of my brother. I was 12 when we moved to Akron, Ohio. I was scared but excited to move
somewhere knew.On my very first day of school I met some of my closest friends. I started getting
bullied around my third week there. It started off small, just a few words here and there. Then the
more I ignored it the bigger it got.I reported it a few times but all it did was make things worse. I
started self harming when I was 11. It got worse as the bullying progressed. I went from cutting
once a month to cutting 2+ times a day. My friends tried to help me stop but it didn't do much. I
would also not eat and when I did I would sometimes throw it up. Then the worst hit. ... Show more
content on Helpwriting.net ...
I loved her even though she wasn't the best person in the world. She would hit me and leave me
alone in the basement. Then my dad was mad at me for wanting to get to know my biological
father.I was dealing with a lot. Then the bullying worsened. It was no longer just girls involved but
boys as well. They stepped on my shoes when I was walking in the hallway. They would call me "
Fat, Miss piggy, ugly, a bitch". I hated them, but overall I hated myself. I hated how I looked, how I
felt. I hated how worthless and powerless I felt. Towards the middle of November I was in gym. My
friend had a thing for playing with rope. He made me a necklace and I wore it proudly. That was
until I was told to hang myself with it. I remember the laughs, the smiles and most of all the pain I
felt as I held back my tears. I defended myself, I told them it wasn't funny. The next period I
corrected a girl who called me out of my name. When school let out I was followed home. They
taunted me the whole way there. They never hit me, which I was lucky

Personal Narrative Essay
After a fatal car accident involving my brother as the driver I spent the summer riding with my
family to the hospital located in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I volunteered to spend a week with
him.
I pushed his wheelchair to his new favorite spot: Starbucks.
Imagine The Rock sitting in a wheelchair with a blue hospital gown and slippers in line ordering
some sort of insane chocolate concoction with whipcream. I teased him. "Guess I'll have to tell all
your friends you only drink super duper delicious frappes now." He laughed loudly but no minded, it
was nice to see a patient enjoying themselves.
They're dead.
Instantly, my heart sunk. People died and here he is drinking coffee. I said nothing and smiled.
But the frustration was overwhelming. I sat in the bathroom. There I silently cried. Cried about
everything. I cried that my brother, with his dreams of opening his own dojo, would never be able to
walk again. I cried because we had no income any more, that the lawyers still wanted their money,
police officers would soon surround his room.... I cried because I would never meet those people.
That night, he went to bed as usual. I watched his breathing every few minutes to ensure that he was
still alive. Just as I drifted off to sleep, he screamed. He was sweating, clutching his body, screaming
in pain. Panicking I ran out, yelling for help. A few nurses came in to calm him down. They tried to
shield him away from me but it was too late.
Amongst the chaos, I saw

The Story Of Jack Face
I It'd been years since I'd seen Jack face–to–face. The past seven decades had not been kind to him,
it would seem. When I reunited with him on the docks, mere minutes before our departure for
Sudan, I hardly recognized him. His features were haggard, his once–pride worn away by decades of
solitude. His cheeks were sallow, his pale brow knitted together in an expression of mournful
contemplation. His hair was but a withered shadow of the long, fiery glory it had once been. Tainted
with streaks of silver and grey, it was hard to call it red any longer. His tired eyes reflected a near–
incomprehensible level of self–doubt and uncertainty. The assured complacency and blaze of
enthusiasm that had once burned bright in them was gone, ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net
...
Neither of us deigned to eat the meal. The captain laughed tauntingly. "Don't like it, eh? Well, you'd
better get used to it. Where you're going you'll be lucky to get this much!" I'd marked his words as a
joke at the time, but in looking back, he'd only spoken the truth. The people here in Sudan went
without a good meal on a regular basis, and not because they wanted to, either. It reminded me of
the days on the island, of the days of living off of raw pig flesh and sour fruits. The meat had been a
privilege then, but in hindsight it would seem more a curse. It made the days without that much
more unbearable, until we found our lives revolved around the continuing cycle of hunting and
feasting, with little time in between for minor civilities, like shelter or rules or the fire for rescue. As
we spend the last of our days here in Sudan, I see over again the same unfortunate events that
occurred those fateful months. II The first of Sudan's problems had formed right from the start; as a
divided nation, it was destined for centuries of strife and civil war, although in retrospect it was most
certainly uncivil. The sins committed in Sudan during those dark days number to be around eight
out of eleven crimes against humanity. Similarly did we too err during our troubled times, and I
mentioned as much to Jack. "It is inborn," he said after some consideration. "We do our best to hide
it, but without any civilities set forth it is hard

Personal Narrative: The Twin Towers Collapse
I watched at 8:46am Tuesday morning as the twin towers collapsed. Every moment I saw, tears fell
like a hurricane. It hit me like cold ice that I was alone with only my little sister Amber. I have no
mommy and no daddy to hold me tight. No one to tell me it will be all right. I watch with regret and
despair. I didn't get to say goodbye or even say I love you. The guilt and loneliness took over, I
couldn't get up. My eyes were locked to the tv. I saw people crying and through their eyes I saw
pain. I couldn't take it anymore sitting, their like a puppet with no soul. I ran to the bathroom shut it
tight, and fell to the floor. I cried, I screamed, I hit the wall, banged my head, and finally cried. I
cried until I ran out of tears. When I came out of the bathroom all weak and scared. But when I
opened the bathroom door I saw my four year old little sister. She was in fear, she was clueless, and
worried. We sat down in the couch and as I told her what happened, we cried for hours until we
cried ourselves to sleep.
14 years latter
I woke up tired as I got ready for college. Amber left for school as I got me self together. Today is
September 11, 2015 the day my life turned upside down. Years ago I would cry remembering this
day. But now it was pointless. I ran out of hope, my body was slowly drifting away, I was lost just
walking through life with no smile or dream. Ever since that day I was secretly on drugs. What was
the point of living with nothing to keep you going? Amber didn't need anyone making her life any ...
Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I have a sister who makes the sun shine brighter. And thanks to hope and faith, and the luck of
having the love of two to share the pain. I am still alive and not you know dead. I'm not regretting
life. Everyday at 9 11 I spread the love help other greef over pain and love. I fall in love with
volunteering. I as smile and never stop forgetting my mom and dad, this one is for

Christmas : Christmas And The Gifts Of Christmas
Whether it be a time of celebration, or an annual visit from Saint Nicholas, Christmas is a time for
families to come together, laugh, and exchange gifts. However, it is the joy of peeling back thick,
snowman–covered paper that often steals the spotlight. From dolls and toys to a new puppy, gifts
can capture the hearts of high–spirited children. The celebration has been a national holiday in the
United States since 1870, though this tradition extends back for millennia. In the Roman world, the
Saturnalia was a festive time consisting of partying and exchanging of gifts. For Christians, gift–
giving comes from the three wise men, who presented treasures to Christ. Beads of sweat trickled
down my cheeks. The sun throbbed like a pulsing heart on the verge of death. "Mom, I think it's
dead," my little brother, Philip cried. Five newborn kittens laid, scattered across my grandmother's
yard, paralyzed by the heat. My mother had found them minutes prior, abandoned by their sole
protector and provider. Two were limp atop the roof's burning tiles, and two more laid writhing on
the stone pavement, just outside the reaper's grasp. How did they get up there? The runt of the litter
was the only one to be untouched by death, as she laid in the rusty gutter. A shrill honk sounded
from nearby, and my aunt jogged to the scene. Without hesitation, Nancy, swooped into action. She
pulled a rusty ladder from underneath the awning, and swiftly made her way up. To our
astonishment, the ninety

Essay On Self Confidence
Self confidence is the foundation of success, achievement, and happiness. Unfortunately, the
foundation of self confidence can become shaky and unstable if someone that you look up to as a
role model hurts your self esteem and courage. One of the biggest role models in my life used to be
my first club soccer coach. He seemed brilliant, passionate, and willing to work with my team. This
man soon became the complete opposite of what I hoped he would be. I soon realized that he was a
two faced liar and one of the most awful people I have ever met. Little did my ten year old self
know he would be the downfall of my self confidence and he would slowly destroy any passion I
had for the sport I loved all with only a few words.
At the age of ten I was the most energetic, go–lucky, confident girl. I excelled at my beloved sport,
soccer. I had been playing since I was just a mere five years old, far longer than the other girls.
Playing so long had helped me be at a higher level of skill than most of the other players on my
team.
During my first season of competitive travel soccer I thought I had been blessed with an amazing
coach. His name was Kenrick Ramirez. Kenrick was from Trinidad and Tobago and had a thick
caribbean accent that at first I could not understand. I was intrigued by Kenrick's personality
because he was so much different than the other typical soccer coaches I had had my whole life. He
seemed to know everything like he was the soccer god. Unfortunately, none of

Personal Narrative Essay 'Asha'
Asha
He never calls me by my name; it's always "woman" or, on especially bad days, "pig". When he isn't
listening, I whisper "Asha" so I don't forget it. The little act of defiance gives me a drop of hope.
When I was 15, I was given an arranged marriage to a 32–year–old fan maker named Abd Al–
Rashid. My family anticipated that now I was liberated from the poverty–stricken life that had
plagued us for centuries. I felt anything but liberated. Tension gripped my stomach as the day crept
closer and eventually it came. It was the day that I would leave my family and everything I had
grown to love. My mother was in a frenzy as she tried to embellish my overdone hair with snowy
wildflowers and a shimmering hijab. She finished by clothing me in lovely ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
I quickly ran to the fountain, my heart beating out of my chest. The fountain was quaintly sitting
under a brilliant sky dotted with stars. I peered into the rippling water. I stared at my jet–black hair,
and the faded bruises that lingered on my face. A fresh burn mark traveled down my eye to my jaw. I
had received a hit by a burning frying pan when I overslept a few days back. The American came
out of the shadows, he introduced himself as Jack Whitman. He said he was apart of an American
organization that was helping and relocating abused Muslim women. He said he could take me to
America. I nodded my agreement, but couldn't stop the tears of joy. We drove a few hours to a safe
house. Many other women were there. Some with a few bruises, and others missing eyes. We all had
similar homes, and none of us could go back. Jack took us to a plane, and said we would land in
America. There were refugee homes prepared for us. I asked if he'd come with us, but he said many
more women needed his help. I hugged him and gave him the money I'd taken from the cash
register. No amount of money could repay him. The plane was small, but everyone got acquainted.
We told our stories as the hours passed. The plane landed with a jolt. A tall man opened the

My Name Is Moonstone, And This Is My Story
My name is Moonstone, and this is my story.
"Spirit, wait up!" I called, racing outside to greet my best friend. She wore purple everyday. Her
shirt was purple with yellow flowers and she was wearing black pants, and of course, the blue scarf
around her sightless eyes.
"Hi." She said back. I kicked some dust, bored. "Did you clean your necklace like I told you too?"
She said. I sighed.
"Yes, I did. The black and red almost glows, it's so clean." Spirit smiled, and held out hers, it was a
swirl of blues and greens, shining brightly.
"So, Spirit, what are we planning on doing today?" I asked. She didn't answer. "Spirittttttt?" I
repeated. She shook her head. "Great, now I'm worried. Spirit, what's wrong?" I said, my tone as
soft as possible, but to my disappointment, there was a hint of annoyance. Well, it's not my fault
everyday there 's something wrong. Ugh.
There was a long silence, and then; "Someone knows." Her voice was as soft and quiet as falling
leaves. I stared at her. Know about what? Who? That she ran over a ant while riding her bike?
Ughhhhhhhh. "The Necklace. They know about it's power. I can feel it, Moonstone. And it's
someone who will do anything to take it." She keep talking. "I can tell what he looks like somehow.
He has black and red hair, and a long hoodie with a eclipse on it. He wears long pants and is a thief
who's never failed. Moonstone, we're in trouble!" She cried. I looked down at my white shoes
stained with the red dust.
"Does he know about

Dustin (Narration) Essay
Composition One: Narration
I can remember receiving the news like it was yesterday even though it feels like a lifetime since I
last heard Dustin's high pitched laugh. It's still hard for me to talk about his suicide.
Even though Dustin had angelic features, such as light green eyes, dark blonde hair, and a smile that
would get him out of anything, he was no angel. I remember the time he shot the windows of the bus
with his B.B. gun or the time he put a flower in the ditch then gave it to the bus driver. He wasn't too
fond of the bus driver.
He was always the first to try something new. when we went to San Antonio for vacation, there was
a cliff ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
As I climbed in the car, I sat next to my cousin Blair, Nanny Lisa's daughter. She knew Dustin better
than any of us in the car. They lived next door to each other for five years and were boyfriend and
girlfriend for two of those years. Blair said nothing to me. Her dark green eyes were filled with tears
and all I could say was "Don't worry Blair, its all going to be ok. When Dustin gets out of the
hospital, you should give him a big kiss." That brought a smile to her face.
While in the hospital I remember going see Dustin's Mom, Mrs. Cindy. She was the one who found
his body lying on the floor with a puddle of blood under him, a gun by him and a pillow near his
body. This was the same woman who would call her husband to come home from work to clean up
vomit, or to change the children's diapers because she had such a weak stomach. She was in her own
room in the hospital, they had to give her heavy medication to relax her, and even then she wasn't
relaxed. "Dara, Oh God Dara," is all I can remember her saying. That was the first time I cried
throughout this whole situation. The reality didn't hit me until I saw the faces of everyone else in
that room.
Some time passed and over twenty–five children, Dustin's friends, where at the hospital. I remember
sitting in the hall with my friends Keri LeJeune, Dustin Gomez, and Russ Bourque, with tears

My Love Story
I loved Bob with all my heart, or as much as you could love someone in 1252 in England as a
female. I have told you about Bob before, haven't I? He knew everything about me–from my
favorite color to my deepest secrets. We did everything together, too; we went to the pond together,
we went to the market together, we even ate together. We always exchanged "I love you" whenever
we saw each other, and everyone thought we would eventually get married. He cared about me, and
I cared about him. We were the perfect love story. Of course, all perfect stories must come to an end.
It was a warm autumn day. The sun was shining, the leaves on the trees were brilliant reds, oranges,
and golds, and everyone was out taking care of business on our measly dirt road. Bob and I had
spent the day cleaning his home and taking care of his younger sisters, so we were both burning up.
As we left his house, I had a brilliant idea. "Bob darling, let us go to the pond. We can cool off
there!" The pond was a beautiful, tranquil place. The only sounds that could be heard were the
breeze rustling the weeping willows beside the pond and the birds chirping in the willows. The pale,
calm blue of the pond had helped me fall asleep a number of times. It was a wonderful place to cool
off and swim, too. Bob however, instead of getting excited–as he had on multiple occasions at any
mention of the pond–jumped away from me, guilt written on his face. "I can't, I...I..." "Bob? Are you
alright?" I asked, concerned. "Of course. I just can't come to the pond today," he responded, his
composure regained. "I...uh...I have other plans. I'm sorry." "Oh. Alright then. It's okay." He smiled
at me, and I smiled back, although it was a little forced. Then, he turned around and disappeared into
the bustle of the market. As I watched him walk away, my smile faded. What was wrong with him?
Or is it me? He always hung out with me, even if he had previous arrangements. This continued for
days; I would want to do something together, but Bob would have other engagements. Soon, we
were doing nothing. I quickly grew suspicious. What could he possibly be doing? Eventually, I
decided to follow him to his 'other engagements'. It was a

My Personal Statement On My Life
After my sister left for college my mom made everything I did her business. I couldn't do anything
without her being one foot behind me asking what I was doing. And during my junior year she
constantly did this to me and I almost killed myself. She thought of me as the actual child of god.
My mother put me in Advance Placements course without asking how I felt. Being in these classes I
felt genuinely smart and didn't want to go back to regular. But the middle of first semester I started
to slip because I was suddenly tired everyday after school and couldn't get my work done. My mom
would yell at me for not turning my papers in and having two D's. She didn't want to listen to what I
had to say, because everything I said "was a lie". I tried very hard to bring my grades up but the
material that the teachers were saying didn't interest me and I would fade away into my own
thoughts. My mother still didn't care what I was into, all she wanted was a perfect report card.
Everyday she would yell at me and say rude things about how I'm not going to get into college if I
didn't bring up my grades. But my mom didn't understand the fact that I was TRYING! She took
away all things that was important to me. I couldn't watch tv, go to the movies,have my phone, leave
the house, and worst of all, I couldn't listen to music. The rules she had were outrageous and I cried
myself to sleep every night. Being at home without any friends and nothing to do, killing myself
was a really big option

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