The factual truth is not relevant in comparison to the emotions that the story triggers from an
For that reason for a person to write his story who went though those times is already enough evidence as it
It was a cold November morning in the valley of Cowan, when I fired my first shot. It was a smooth and clean feeling after I pulled the trigger. I than saw the deer hunker as the slug hit its side, and it began to run away from us. Dad, knowing I had made a good shot, still decided to jump out of the blind window to end the animals suffering. Unfortunately, when his foot caught, it was all over from then.
Elen Vaquero #21551 November 10, 2017 Narrative Merrell/ Wood, 4th period The outsiders >>>WHAT THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT ME..... <<< ¨Hey uhm Ponyboy today we gotta rumble,are you okay,
One warm august night my sister Ellie and I watched the film Into the Wild. The story of Chris McCandless reconnecting with nature and going out on his own was profound to me. My mom was an avid hiker when she was younger and even climbed Mount Olympus, but as she’s gotten older and kids and life have taken over hiking hasn’t been much of priority. After the movie ended I told her I wanted to go on a short backpacking trip by myself before I had to go back to school and immediately my ten year old sister wanted to come with me. I agreed and we spent the next twenty four hours planning, packing and figuring out exactly where we were going.
Why did you have to go? 7th grade was one of the worst times of my life. I was bullied a lot, which made me not want to go to school. I believed what they said which made every day harder and more unbearable. I lost some of my good friends during this extremely difficult time.
Furthermore, telling the truth could hurt the feelings of people care deeply about. For example, your mother has put her blood, sweat, and tears, not literally, into this new recipe she found online to prepare for dinner what she believes to be the most amazing masterpiece she has ever whipped up. It does not have a pleasing aroma, but that does not stop you from taking a bite to at least taste what your mother has been working on all day. You gag, but instantly smile at your mother while trying to secretly plug your nose at the same time.
Chapter one: The Usual —Laura sighed as she wiped the small drips of sweat off her forehead. She had been on her feet since 9 am and it was currently 6:45 pm, her shift was going to end in fifteen minutes. Laura had waited all day for him to arrive and order his usual, but for some odd reason he hadn't shown up yet. She figured he had found another coffee shop where he wouldn't have to see her face. She took a deep breath and held it in for a few seconds.
The Shot When I was 1 year old my mother first described to me about the dangers of hunters. “That they are strange beings, and that don’t care about us at all… That is how your father died” my mother said, as my mother was telling me this a tear fell down my eye, and I felt like I would never feel happiness again. I was 8 months old when it happened. My father was down at the pond about a quarter of a mile away from where we lived. I remember it like it was just yesterday.
Following the trek leader on a trail at philmont, new mexico, we came across one of the many river crossings. my patrol leader, cody went across before the rest of us crossed. The trail lead up a rugged rock staircase and on to the other side of the mountain into one of the valleys and the Moss covered forest. An almost indescribable atmosphere surrounded me as I jumped across the river. Dizzy, the sandstone cliffs spinning around above me, I felt as if I was losing my grip on my life.
When I recently rummaged through my clothes, I noticed a t-shirt I bought online a couple of years ago. The concept was simple: a yellow shirt with a girl 's sock placed on the left shoulder. After I looked at that shirt, questions kept coming to me. Why did I own this shirt? What made it so special to me?
The Notebook There is something that ensures uniqueness about everyone: backgrounds, talents, interests, and identities. Deep inside, a defining character which completes and gives meaning to our lives. My father once told me growing up in a large family gave one a sense of living in the real world. To me, it meant learning to make sacrifices for the greater good and being satisfied with what little I was given. To say in the least, I did not feel special and would cry myself to sleep in the self-induced loneliness of my bed, praying with all my might that I would wake up one morning, an only child.
Well have you ever been in a car that just stopped on the side of the road, well if you haven’t read this story. It all started one night six years ago just after we had just finished cleaning school my mom, grandma, and cousin all went to M.C. Donalds to get dinner for all of us. My grandpa and I went in the other car and headed home. All of the sudden just as we were about ten minutes away from home are car little by little started to slowly slow down and drift on to the side of the road. My grandpa had put his head back against the headrest and wasn't doing anything so I started to panick and a get little creeped out.
A long time ago in a school not so far away a peculiar event occurred,that I will never forget. It all started on the first day of school. It was my first year at Finley Farms Elementary and I was ready for the second grade, or so I thought. I entered my classroom and was happy to learn.
Due to the possibility of false memories, and some specific details to one like not ebing recorded, it is difficult to corroborate the events they describe. With limited individuals point of view, it is difficult to create a clear image of the time period.
