Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Personal narrative essay on the attack on september 11 2001
Personal narrative essay on the attack on september 11 2001
9/11 personal essays
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
As soon as the team arrived, they began searching the storage unit. Within a few minutes, Kirk discovered the first body hidden behind a panel in the far corner of the room. "Guys, I found something," he yells, waving the machine back and forth in front of the far wall. "Look, there's a small gap between the wall and ceiling." Jerry says, pointing towards the corner.
(NAME) awoke a few hours later, nuzzling against the solid warmth in front of her. She pondered why her pillow was so solid, and mumbled something incoherent as she prised open her eyes. Oh. That's not her pillow.
The bus looked more like a subway train. It didn't have any wheels. Instead, in hovered slightly above a metal road. When the bus took off, the teenagers looked out the windows and they saw people who looked like humans, as well as reptile-like creatures. There were also little green men with black eyes and big heads.
The winds picked up. Out of the west, the dust rolled in. It blocked out the sun, leaving people unaware of what time it was. It was still day out, but the world outside grew darker. It was like the death of the dinosaurs, how the dust from the meteorite had covered the sun and doomed them, but only it was with a different kind of dust
Never fear, never fear, for I am here. Never fear, never fear, don't shed a tear. A pair of forlorn faces this way come. I know them better than some, better than themselves, though not better than the other. I know them not from what they were, nor understand who they are meant to be, but I understand what they are.
She checked the shoebox beneath her bed every night, just to make sure her hidden world was still thriving. And it always was the same as she left it night before, as if time stopped without her presence. Miniscule vines crawled up the cardboard insides of the box, searching for the sky. Trees, the largest ones as thick as her thumb, rooted in the thin bottom of the box. She had created the forest, and as a god wanted something to rule.
Their journey together began when these two cliché soul mates met in a bar. According to Mr. Mike, this is “Where you should always meet your future husband or wife”. (He said this jokingly.) The way they met was kind of a funny story. One of Mr. Mike’s friends wanted him and this girl that is best friends with his wife to meet.
We’ve all heard the creaking floors when we were sleeping, the footsteps we pretend are the shifting of the foundation, the movement in the mirror we blame on our imagination, the distorted figures of monsters we soon realize are just piles of clothes. But what if it wasn't just our imagination? What if it was all real? The depraved monsters in our closets. The demons under our beds.
It rained all day, slowly creating masterpieces on the windows that quickly faded. Hannah felt like she lived in an art museum when she looked outside toward the usually bustling streets of Los Angeles to find only a few brave souls who dared to venture from their dry homes, their mouths open in disgust at the weather they had to know their precious city needed so badly. She was sure she could do this for eternity; just sit and watch the little droplets. Everything she needed to do, like pack for VidCon, could wait.
"Well there is no duty tomorrow so I guess it's okay." "Now I gotta get going, just gotta pack my stuff." *looks around " [If someone sees me talking to myself that would be problematic.]" .
SEPTEM— His first memory was of the fall, the blur of orange skies and the starry sky as he dropped, weightless in the suspension of time. He remembered nothing before and after that until the landing. Not the countless frantic thoughts racing throughout his mind, nor the fires which burned bright at his skin, around him, igniting nine others like him. ᴜɴᴜᴍ.
Now The storm rolls in over the forest, barely visible through the tree tops. My hot breath fogging the window pane. The tears stinging my eyes, gradually running down my cheeks and dotting the window sill. Footsteps approach and slow to a halt beside me.
Dragging himself towards home, Mike was exhausted. The sun had disappeared behind the houses, coloring the sky in shades of pink. Mike was coming home from his friend’s house. As he was slowly moving across the sidewalk, a UPS truck turned onto his street from behind him. Confused, Mike continued his route home, pondering about the truck.
This is a story not a fake but a strange. a story about a man who works as a carpenter. with voices in his head. At Least thats what he hopes he hears. This story takes place in the state of kentucky 1989 hope you enjoy.
In paragraph 2, “ We are here, you can’t sleep because we are exploding all day around you, you can’t move, any small light we can target,” This is nerve-racking for the people who are constantly listening bouncing bullets, explosions and “ warplanes with machine guns fly all day”. Children and Adults live in fear even when they are sleeping. There are no more silent nights. They no longer feel