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Gun Shots-Personal Narrative

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"....her giggle filled the air as if it owned the space surrounding her as she pulled my hand down the musky dirt trail we had found ages ago. We were walking around in the forest with the birds singing their sweet melodies but all I could focus on was the way her silky brown hair waved with the wind like it was a part of it itself. We halted as we approached our destination: on old weeping willow tree. She turned to look at me, her ocean blue eyes bored into my own. The hanging leaves of the willow cascading around her figure. Her full lips were pulled back into a smile. How could someone not smile back at her? She just had something about her. It made everyone who has ever met her, drawn to her. No one could get enough.

I grabbed her by …show more content…

Gun shots were everywhere.

My eyes shot open as fast as they could and I reached for the gun in my nightstand drawer. I jumped from my bed. The sound of glass shattering against tile came ringing from down the stairs. My eyes flashed to the other side of the bed and found empty sheets. A piercing scream rang throughout the house.

Mya.

My heart was beating out of my chest. I flew out the door and down the stairs and ran around the corner. A black shadow crossed my path. I shot. He stammered and clutched his left shoulder. The figure started to run and I chased after him. I think I just brushed his collar with my finger tips when a sharp, and I mean sharp, pain spread throughout my body. The pain was coming from my …show more content…

I gasped and flew to the floor. I turned into my back, warm liquid seeping out of me. I clutched the wound, trying to keep as much blood inside of my body as I could.

A glint from a knife gave away my attackers position. My hand shot for my gun. I aimed and pulled the trigger. A thud came from the general direction I shot at. I turned back around, ready to shoot anyone in sight, but no one was there. I limp-crawled towards the body laying on the ground. I threw off the ski mask and chuckled. The girl had bleached blonde hair, she was in her mid-20s, her green eyes were wide and full of death. Sasha. A member of-.

A muffled sob came from the kitchen and I scrambled to my feet. I through open the door and slid. I landed on the tile, my hands sticky, my pants wet. I raised my hand and saw a dark substance covering it. My eyes rose to the limp body a few feet away from mine, brown hair soaked with her own blood. I crawled forward, slipping and sliding in the

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