Dante's Inferno-Personal Narrative

2517 Words11 Pages

The sirens went off on Dante’s fifteenth birthday. Dante was out baking under the merciless sun, training along side with the other children assigned to his sector. As always, his throat was parched, the harsh fabric of his shirt was digging into his skin and his hands we covered with blisters, but Dante persevered onwards; his hands shaking in fear of a harsh whipping. He steadied them and gripped tightly to his spear, leading the splintered pieces to bite into his rough hands. Suddenly, a cacophonous shrieking thundered across the fields. The children around him were wearing a mask of anxiousness as the giant screen hovering above them flickered to life. “This is not a test,” Like so many other occurrences, a commanding …show more content…

The only thing that offered a hint of color was a thick cream colored folder. The guard who escorted him stiffly pointed at a chair, which led to Dante nearly falling over as he sat down into the brittle chair. Weakly, Dante attempted to stifle a scream from his burning back, which resulted in a pained grunt. The guard sitting across from him had a mop of blonde, brittle hair and a nose that seemed as if it been broken hundreds of times. His swamp green as glittered with malice as he looked over Dante. Next to him, the guard who escorted him sat next to the man, her dark chestnut colored eyes burning into Dante. She would have been quite comely, with her olive colored skin, ink colored hair and full lips, if it wasn’t for a harsh scar that ran across her right …show more content…

Printed on the locket was a small image of two hands clutching at each other in front of a fire. Dante swallowed bile, that was his father’s necklace. Dante couldn’t recall a time when his father was wearing it, it was like envisioning his father missing a limb. He was always curious of what the foreign seal meant or why his father was always wore it. Whenever he asked about it, his father playfully rustled his curly hair and told him it reminded him of Dante’s mother. On his eighth birthday, or his first day of training his father gave it to him a similar necklace, with a simple tree printed on the dark locket. Ever since then, Dante wore it without question. It was simply an extension of