- Writing Situation: Everyone has done something that he or she will remember.
- Directions for Writing: Before you begin writing, think about something you have done that you will always remember.
- Now tell the story about a time you did something that you will always remember.
The narrative approach, more than any other, offers writers a chance to think and write about themselves. We all have experiences lodged in our memories which are worthy of sharing with readers. Yet sometimes they are so fused with other memories that a lot of the time spent in writing narrative is in the prewriting stage.
In this stage, writers first need to select an incident worthy of writing about and, second, to find relevance in that incident. To do this, writers might ask themselves what about the incident provided new insights or awareness. Finally, writers must dredge up details which will make the incident real for readers.
Principles of Writing Narrative Essays
Once an incident is chosen, the writer should keep three principles in mind.
- Remember to involve readers in the story. It is much more interesting to actually recreate an incident for readers than to simply tell about it.
- Find a generalization which the story supports. This is the only way the writer's personal experience will take on meaning for readers. This generalization does not have to encompass humanity as a whole; it can concern the writer, men, women, or children of various ages and backgrounds.
- Remember that although the main component of a narrative is the story, details must be carefully selected to support, explain, and enhance the story.
62 comments:
I made my final decision at the top of the stairs. I am going to ride down it without having a fall. I gave my little brother a slight grin and pushed off with my right foot. I would forever regret the decision I made that day.
For my thirteenth birthday, I received a new Schwinn bike as my present. For the past few years, I always desired a new bike I could ride around my neighborhood, but my parents claimed that they didn’t have enough money. As I tested shifting the gears and rotating the handles, I thought about all the stunts I would finally be able to try. My little brother, wanting to see me make a fool of myself, decided to join me on my quest to find the perfect place for my first stunt.
After a few minutes of searching, I finally found an awesome area to perform my “stunt”. I hauled my bicycle up twelve steps of concrete stairs and stood at the top. As I stayed standing, I noticed that the distance to the bottom of the steps were not that far away from the top, but once I sat on my bike, things got to be a bit frightening. That’s when I realized this is either going to end in the most epic way, or end in the most devastating way, but there was only one way to find out.
I faced my brother, giving him the slightest of smiles, and accelerated down the intimidating flight of stairs. The wind rushed past my body, and the bumps created by each step jostled me around on top of my bike, but I held on for dear life. As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I could still feel myself getting faster and faster. I knew I would have a hard time stopping, but all I cared about was just finishing the whole stairway. Excitement gripped my body as my front wheel touched the cement ground, but all of it washed away as I saw what was up ahead.
The curb of the sidewalk was directly in my path, and at the speed I was going, I couldn’t stop without flinging myself out of the seat. All I could do was brace myself and prepare for impact. BOOM! The whole world spun as I flung out of my seat and tumbled down the ground. Dazed, I stood up and noticed crimson blood dripping out the corner of my mouth. There were also large gashes on my arms and legs all oozing out blood. I raggedly picked myself up and rushed back home without my bicycle.
I should have thought about the awful consequences that would have been connected with my action, but I failed to that. I was lucky to have no permanent injuries, and to this day, I regret the decision I made.
Woot~!
First person to Post~!
“Brown, Carey, Dyroff…” At the end of tryouts for the soccer team the head coach reads off the list of players who have made the varsity team. My last name being Tchana I have gone through this long wait until my name is called or not.
It’s the beginning of tryouts, and as a freshman I have no idea what to expect. We beginning tryouts, I see many older kids I’ve never seen and even some new kids in my grade. Though nervous I find that as the days go on I start to feel more and more comfortable playing with anyone. Each day brings new challenges and new soccer games against different makeshift teams that the coaches have put together. Game after game I start to feel more confident about my chances of making the varsity team.
As tryouts go on, the cuts start to happen. The first cut, brings that number of people who have a chance of making varsity from eighty-seven kids to forty-five. Nervous as ever, I feel a wave of relief fall over me when I hear the coach say my name along with the forty-five other kids who made the cut.
The varsity coach continues to read off name of players who’ve made the team. “Greenwald, Harris, Hazlett, Jayne…” As he keeps reading the names he gets closer and closer to the moment when he calls my name of not.
During the second half of tryouts came the soccer jamboree. The jamboree was in Keene where we would play four short soccer games. The first game was fun. When the coach put me in I got a chance to prove that I should be on varsity. A few minutes into the second game I get the ball from a well-driven pass and I, than a goal comes. That was my first goal today, and when the final whistle blew it made our record 2 and 0 so far. The third and fourth games were nearly the same, also scoring in both, the jamboree ended well for me.
Here it comes, “Pratt, Smith…” this was it, I knew that if I would make the team, my name would have to come next. The pause seems like forever, “….Umland, Watkins.” That was it. All the hard work for the past two weeks and I didn’t make the team…
The next day, when JV practice start I notice that I’m not the only one feeling down, when I saw the faces of many sophomores and even juniors who wanted to make the team and didn’t. Right then I thought that if I was upset I didn’t make the team as a freshman, the older kids must be twice as upset.
JV was a lot different than what I expected. Because it didn’t matter if we did well or not, everyone got to fool around and have a lot of fun during practices and games. And we ended up winning all but one of our games, having the best JV record in our division. I could even tell from the beginning it would be a fun season.
Though I was upset at first about not making the varsity team, JV turned out to be a lot of fun, and I learned that things aren’t always as bad as they seem.
Wings
By Jonathan Pearson
“The Controls are yours,” the pilot said threw the mic. Trembling with anticipation as I felt the joystick in my hands, I slowly leaned it down and to the left. The plane then responded by pitching ever so slightly and gaining altitude. I could hear the roar of the engine and the wind on my face I could go anywhere. I will never forget that day
Since I was a young boy, I always looked at birds and never ceased to be amazed they that could fly. Even now that I know more about how it works, I am still fascinated by flight. It seems strange that a slight difference of air pressure above and below that wing can lift a 900,000 pound monster off the ground. And to think that it all started with men building simple glider that had a goal of sustaining flight for mere seconds.
Because I was so interested in airplanes, you can imagine that when I heard there was a fly-in taking place soon at a near by airfield, I was very excited. A fly-in is when a bunch of pilot meet up at an airfield and show off there planes. It’s often also an educational time, to interest young people in flying. Because I have a special interest in WW2 planes, I was hoping that there might be one there. The day finally arrived and I couldn’t wait to get there. It was a long drive but it was worth ever minute of it. When we got to the airfield, the first thing my father noticed was the food; we had not had breakfast so he went and had some food while I looked at the planes. At one point I noticed a WW2 observation plane. I must have been looking really interested in it, because the pilot came over a told me about it. After talking for a long time he finally offered to take me up. I was incredible surprised and accepted immediately. The Pilot opened up the plane and showed me where I was going to sit it was cramped but I didn’t care, I was having too much fun. I put on the head set and heard the crackle of the other line opening up. “ Are you ready?”, the pilot said, I looked over to my dad who was giving me a thumbs up, I waved and then said to the pilot, “lets roll”. I heard the bang of the engine starting, and the pilot slowly push up on the throttle, I expected it to be a long take off like the larger jets I was used to, but a quarter of the way down the strip, the pilot gunned it, and we started climbing immediately. I was glad to have a head set for two reason. First, I could hear the pilot and second, because the plane was incredible loud. We flew around for what seemed to be a very long time, but were really only a half an hour. The pilot and I had a good conversation about the plane and flying. He asked me if I knew what kind of plane it was, and because the wings were more forwards the top of the fuselage (which is the body of the plane) I told him that I thought it was probably an observation plane. I was right and he was happy that I knew. Close to the end of the flight he surprised me with one declaration: “The controls are yours”.
At first I thought I had miss heard him, but when my joystick became loss, I knew that I was not mistaken. It may have only been three seconds of having control over the aircraft. But those three seconds was the coolest thing I had ever done in my life before. After we got back to the strip I gave my dad a high five, thanked the pilot, and we headed home.
Even though I was not in the plane for long, the experience was very meaningful for me. And it is an experience I will never forget. Before that time I had only read about flying a plane, and now I know what it like to be in control of one, even if only for a few moments. For that short time, I realized that I could go anywhere.
Hansol,
Nicely done, you were very descriptive of the crash and it was very easy to visualize it.
Well done!
As I reached out with my glove, with sweat on my face and dirt on my hand I stabbed the hard ground ball and threw to first to end the 4th inning. It was the semi-final game of the Cal Ripken State tournament game, we were facing the Hudson team and winning 3-2. Up to the 5th inning, I had pitched an almost perfect game giving up only the 2 runs. However, I could only pitch 5 innings that game and there were still 2 left. So coach put in Matty who had been pitching very poorly lately. I remember when I watched Matty warm up, I saw he was almost throwing completely sideways. Matty had one out with runners on 1st and 3rd when he had an amazing stroke of luck in the form of a smash of the middle, which at first seemed like it was going to go through the gap, but then Max, our skilled shortstop turned an amazing double play to end the inning. And so Matty managed to escape that inning by the hair on his chin with the score remaining 3-2. The top of the 6th was a quick inning in which we scored no runs. When the bottom of the 6th inning came around and Matty headed back out to the mound, I watched Matty throwing almost totally sidearm warm-ups and had a gut wrenching feeling in my heart. I somehow knew that Matty was in trouble from the moment he picked up the ball on the mound. My worst fears were confirmed when Matty hit the 1st batter in the back on the 1st pitch. Before Matty went out to the mound. I was really hoping that coach would let me pitch my last inning, but I figured that he might let Matty have one last batter and then put me in if Matty had any trouble. So naturally when Matty hit the 1st batter on the 1st pitch, I sat poised to grab my glove. But coach didn’t call time. And I knew that Matty had to be done when he walked the next batter in 4 pitches. Now I was really starting to get worried because if Matty let 2 runs score, then we would lose the game and be eliminated from the tournament. So with runners on 1st and 2nd, I sat on an invisible spring, waiting for coach to call my name, but nothing. The next at bat was just as brief as the 1st of the inning, the batter hit a line drive into left field, luckily right at our right fielder, so the lead runner did not score. At this point I was astounded that coach was not putting me back in, Matty had had his 2nd 2nd chance. I could even see that Matty had lost all of his confidence because he was grimacing on the mound. So now the winning run for Hudson was on 2nd in scoring position and yet coach still did nothing. So I watched the next batter walk up to the plate, I watched Matty put his foot on the rubber and start his delivery, I watched the bat swing and contact the baseball, I watched the baseball rocket into left center, I watched the lead runner run for home plate and hit it, I watched the runner from 2nd round 3rd and touch home plate, and then I realized that what I had just watched, was us lose our chances to win the state tournament.
I still look back on that day and wonder what would have happened if coach had put me in to pitch in the 6th inning, I wonder if we would have won that game and made it to the finals, I wonder if we would have won the finals and moved on to regionals. But because of what I see as coaching error, we did not. That experience taught me that you might have the best players in the country, but if you do not have an adequate coach, then none of that will matter.
“Beep, Beep, Beep!” My alarm screams at 6:30 in the morning. I hadn’t woken up this early in three months. Today was a big day, the first day of high school. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, scrambled to get my backpack together, and headed out the door. Already I was beginning to feel nervous and felt as if I had forgotten something. I know I had all the school supplies I would ever need but for some reason I kept worrying.
High school was a mystery to me. I don’t have any older siblings so I had no idea what to expect. I had a couple friends who were freshmen last year so I was able to talk to them. I had been to the high school once before for a tour but I hadn’t had a chance to look at any classrooms.
The ten-minute car ride seemed to fly by. I was very excited to see my friends again. The school looked enormous as we drove up to it. Buses were arriving full of students. Kids were also coming to school by walking or riding their bikes I said goodbye to my mom and headed through the front door.
I was immediately greeted by a loud, chaotic atmosphere. I made my way into the cafeteria pushing through the crowd. It was really funq to see all my friends again after the summer. Some had grown a lot taller while others remained the same. Everyone was talking about where they went over the summer and what period their classes were.
One thing that I was worried about was whether or not I would have any friends in my classes. This worry soon went away soon after the first few periods. I realized that each of my friends were in at least one class of mine.
Meeting my teachers was almost as exciting as seeing my friends. They were all very nice but I liked some more than others. In my mind I had already thought about what they might look like based on what I’ve heard from other people, but once I had met them in person they were a lot different.
The classes seemed very short because there was an assembly and a meeting in the morning, which affected the regular schedule. This was good though because it was just the right amount of time to give you a little taste of what the class was about.
When the day was finally over everyone was asking me how my first day went. I didn’t have any homework but I knew that would soon change. Overall, I think it went really well and everything I had been wondering about was now answered. To this day I still like high school and the first day still remains fresh in my mind.
@Xany Tchana
Xavy, I really liked your narrative. The detail included in the story is really well thought out and makes me feel as if I'm there. The only thing I would suggest is to go a little more in depth about the jv team. I want to know how you did that season/how your thoughts about varsity changed during the season. But overall, you had lots of detail and it was a really solid piece. nice work.
Ben-
I love the details and enthusiasm in this story. Try and explain more how you felt in that "chaotic atmosphere". Great job!
When we were kids, we all get that feeIing atleast once when you get so excited that you feel like puking. I experienced this feeling when I was around 8 years old. What I didn't know at that time was that I would indeed vomit later that day, but it was certainly not out of excitement.
I let out a massive scream of glee. After weeks and weeks of pleading and begging to my parents, they had finally decided to buy me a new bike. And boy was it beautiful. It's the perfect bike with a sleek blue and chrome finish. Sprawled across the middle of the bike is the word "Mongoose" with a ferocious mongoose almost leaping out of the bike with its claws unleashed. I give my mother a big hug and leap on the bike and getting a feel of it.
My grin enlarges as I notice that this bike also comes with an 18 gear option. This is exactly what I wanted. However, what I fail to notice, was that this bike also comes with double hand brakes. Al of my previous bikes used a primitive brake system in which you pedal backwards to slow it down. I had always wanted a bike with hand brakes, but I never learned how to use them. I would soon regret this decision.
One thing that you need to know about the College Hill Condominium Complex is that is perched high up on a hill. If you take a step outside, you go down a small downhill, and then take a left and merge into a huge downhill incline. Today going down that downhill is one of the best parts of my day, but at that time, I had never gone down that hill on a bike.
I quickly mount the bike, forgetting my helmet in the thrill of the moment, and i start riding back and forth through the narrow street from one end of the condominium to the other. After doing this atleast 20 times, I decide that its time to go down the small downhill and complete the small circuit back to my house. Adrenaline pumps through my legs as I start pedaling. My hair's whipped back by the wind and I start the downhill descent. I soon notice that I am going to fast, and I start pedaling backwards to slow myself down, but I continue going at the same speed! I look ahead and see the massive downhill looming ahead. Frightened beyond belief, I see a parked car to my left and ride my bike right into it. My world turns upside down as I'm flung off my bike and slam against the hard asphalt with a thud. Dazed and confused, I pick myself up, stumble around, shout out my mother's name, and vomit on the spot.
To this day, I regret that I didn't learn about the bike before I used it, and that I forgot to wear my helmet. I could have been seriously injured with a head injury and I was lucky to only come away from this incident with a couple of scrapes, cuts, and bruises
Dear Ben,
I thought your narrative was very well written and relatable, but I do have one criticism. I don't think that there were really enough details and vivid descriptions. I think you should have gone into more detail for maybe one of your classes.
Aditya
Jonathan,
you did a really nice job on your story. It was descriptive and easy to follow. the part about your dad noticing the food seemed a little out of place but other than that great job!
"Attention, ready, row!" For our final crew race of the season, those three words were the most meaningful. As we lined up, our boat took a look at who we were competing against; it didn't look too good. All the other teams were so much bigger and stronger than we were, but we knew that we had to pull ourselves back together and focus if we wanted to win. All of those early morning practices of waking up at 4:15, starting out in the beginning of the season with ice still out on the river, to now gaining the strength over time really needed to pay off at this point. Within the next few seconds after lining up into place, we heard those three words. "Attention, ready, row!"
A crew race is 1500 meters long and usually takes about five or six minutes to row. Most of the rowing that we did depended on myself because I was the stroke seat of the boat and set the rate for everyone else. So what I did effected our whole boat. We took our first five strokes to get a lead, then a power twenty. At this point of the race everyone was already panting and out of breath, but it was only the beginning. We were racing against five other boats and we soon past everyone except for Bedford who we were tied up with. Usually in all of our races we would be falling apart at this point, but we knew this was the most important and last race of the season, so we just had to win.
We were now about two minutes into the race and we were still tied up. Now it was time to row at base rate. But what no other teams did that we would do is take a power of twenty at about 1000 meters into the race.This meant for twenty strokes we would row as hard as we could. After doing that we finally pulled up from Bedford. We kept the rate up and and had a lead of about five seconds. Although I couldn't look out of the boat, I knew that we had taken the spot of first, all we had to do was keep it up for about three more minutes. Three minutes may not seem that long, but they were the longest three minutes of my life.
As we were getting ready for the sprint of our race I could feel my heart already beating out of my chest. I have never been so tired and willing to win something before. But now was the time to shine. In the next few seconds my coxswain shouted "We are going to take a power of twenty in two, that's one.." Now I am thinking to myself that this is the moment to show everyone what our boat can do. "That's two.. go!" All of a sudden the adrenaline kicked in and I pushed as hard as I could with my legs and pulled as hard as I could with my arms. At this point nothing would distract me, I was completely in the moment. I soon was out of breath, but I kept going strong. Then, I heard the horn go off; we had won the race!
The results of the race were-Hanover 5:40.08 Bedford 5:45.89 Concord 5:48.13 Lebanon 5:53.43 Boston Latin 6:25.23. We had won by over five seconds. That was the best race that we ended up having the whole season, and we also got the title of "The Novice Fin" which meant we won the most amount of races that season for Novice Girls. That was probably the most exhilarating race, but also the most fun.
Xavy,
Your story was really good, I could follow it easily, and you explained things well. Nice job!
It always takes a while for planes to take off but this time it seemed endless. After going to through three times as many security checks, we had finally made it onto the plane. I was nervously chewing my minty gum trying to keep my mind of the situation. I wanted to get it over with but at the same time I wanted to stay safely on the ground. Soon we were instructed to fasten our seatbelts and the wheels started rolling. The usual excitement was suppressed by the anxious feeling in my stomach as the plane lifted off the ground.
The previous day a terrorist plot was uncovered at Heathrow Airport in London. It had targeted planes flying from Europe to North America. The airport where we were, Munich, was taking extra precautions. When my family got to the airport, everything took longer. The lines moved more slowly and the checks were done more thoroughly. At the security check, there were much stricter orders than usual. We had to get rid of our food as well as any liquids. I was instructed to take off my shoes, empty my pockets, take off my belt and my earrings. “Ok, next.” The security guard motioned for me to step through the check-point. His stern and serious face was very intimidating for a ten year-old. I slowly walked up to the sensor and stood frozen while the metal detector checked me. When nothing went off, I was more than relieved.
When we had made it through security, I started a game of Yahtzee with my mom and brother to help pass the time. We didn’t get very far because about every fifteen minutes, we would get a phone call. Friends and family from the US and also from Germany were concerned and tried to persuade us to fly on another day. This only made me more nervous. After another long wait, we heard our flight announced. I tentatively walked up through the tunnel to the plane and found my seat. On the flight home, I was never really able to relax. I would twirl my hair or bite my nails and I went through three packs of gum. The best part of the whole flight was when I saw the seatbelt light flash on and heard the pilot’s voice. “Attention ladies and gentleman. As we near our destination we ask that you stay in your seats for the rest of the flight and fasten your seatbelts.” When I felt the wheels hit the ground, I knew we had made it.
This experience is something I think about every time I get on a plane. The excitement and anticipation that comes with getting on a plane is dulled for a moment. Luckily, this anxiety is temporary and I am able to look forward to what happens when I get off the plane.
It was September 11, 2001 and I knew that something was terribly wrong, but I didn’t know what. I stayed close to my sister in school as everyone else got picked up early by their parents. Everything was different about the atmosphere in my preschool. The teachers looked anxious as they paced around the classroom constantly looking out the windows. I wondered what they were looking for, but kept my mouth shut because I could feel the tension in the air. The teachers often picked up their cell phones to make calls but never reached anyone on the other end because on this particular day, all the phone lines were down in the New York City area. I kept watching as all the other kids left my school praying that I would be next to get picked up. My mind began to wander as I wondered what my parents could be doing. Did they get on a dragon, my favorite creature when I was little, and go to outer space? I had no idea where they were but all I knew was that if everyone else was with their parents then I should be with mine.
Finally, after all the other kids in my class got picked up, my mother appeared at the door. I rushed over and jumped into her arms as my face light up. Something wasn’t the same about my mother, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Usually she is very chatty and outgoing, but today she was quiet. She seemed sad and dazed. I wondered if everyone was under a spell. My mom, my sister and I left school and walked back to our apartment. That walk was probably the scariest ten minutes of my life. Just like the environment in my school, the conditions in the city was even more unusual. The thing that stuck in my mind the most was the piercing sound of the sirens. I thought that all the fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars in the world had their sirens on at once. I wanted to escape the sound, but I couldn’t. There was also black smoke all over the city. A horrible smell overpowered all others and made my sister and I cough. The traffic was also very different because it was moving slowly. Finally we made it home and I was so pleased to run up the stairs and through the door.
This day will stay in my mind forever and in the minds of most other people in the world. It changed the United States by having less freedom because there is much more security. Unfortunately it has caused bias towards certain races and has impacted our military. I was young so on that day was not aware of the true impact of this event. But now I knowing more it truly was the saddest moment in my life.
Hailey,
I really liked your narrative and it was god because I didn't know if you were going to win or not until the end. I think that you should add more detail rowing.....like sweat was pouring down my face, my fingers killed from the blisters and just a little bit more sensory detail but overall nice job!
If you’ve ever gotten stung by a blank-faced wasp, you know one thing. It hurts. So when you’re five years old, it can’t feel much better. Another thing I know that many other people know is that the wasps also don’t like it when someone sinks their hiking boot into their nest. Although I learned this ten years ago, I still remember it.
It was a beautiful day in August, and my dad told me I was going to go on a hiking trip with a big group of my friends. I was very excited at that point. I knew that I was going to have a great time. Even though I loved camping, I was also a very nervous kid. I was very scared of bees. I had only gotten stung once in my life, and I didn’t like it. From that time on, I couldn’t even go outside without worrying about bees. The two hours in the car going to the campground gave me time to ponder my fate if I were to ever get stung by a bee.
When we arrived at the campground, I found all of the campsite necessities, such as trees, a stone fire pit, and, of course, a copious amount of bees. I started my process of worrying over again. I kept up my lamenting to my dad about this issue, and he had pretty much had enough of me. No matter how many times he told me I would be fine, I couldn’t believe him because of my general attitude.
I had a great time for the first three days. The campfires at night were a great time, and marshmallows were now my favorite things in the world. That was when my dad broke the news to me — we were going on a hike the next day. I kept up my complaining about bees, and told him that I would be walking in the back of the line with him. He told me that everything was going to be fine, and he eventually convinced me to go in the middle of the line with my friends. When the hike started, I was getting used to being in the middle of the line, and I was starting to get comfortable. There were three paths to take. One was called Sidewinder, another called Little Loop, and I don’t remember the last one’s name. There was a sign about angry wasps on Sidewinder, so we decided to take Little Loop.
About halfway through the hike, I heard a crunch at the head of the line, and a bunch of screaming. I started swatting things around my head, and then felt a series of very sharp pains on my neck and arms. I started wailing, and my dad swooped in and grabbed me. I thought to myself, “This is my worst nightmare! BEES!” It turned out the term “Little Loop”, meant that it looped around to Sidewinder. As my dad ran back to the camp carrying me, my whiny voice was in his ear harshly reminding him that I wanted to stay in the back of the line with him. Even though he apologized many times, he still hasn’t heard the end of it today, and I haven’t forgotten it.
Kendra
I liked your essay because a lot of people including myself can relate to it. Just like you, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what. Good Job!
Aditya,
I really enjoyed reading your essay about you crashing your bike. You had a great deal of detail on the background information previous of the actually crash. I would have liked to see more detail about the crash. you grazed over that part of it not giving us a good picture of what you were going through, great start though.
During the summer after 6th grade, Little League Baseball was my pride and joy. After a long season featuring a deep playoff run by my Norwich team, I decided to try out for the All-star team with some of my friends. This team consisted of all of the best players that I had competed against the entire season. The level of play was great and it was very memorable for me.
Throughout the summer, our team played in multiple tournaments trying to qualify for the state championship. During the second local tournament, I hit my first home run of my life in a game. It was merely a pop up to right center field but it cleared the tall chain fence. I was so distracted by the highflying ball that I happened to trip and fall rounding first base. After this small ordeal I went on a hitting tear. I was moved up in the lineup and our team advanced to the state championship. It was a best of three game series and we split the first two games. So everything was riding on our success of the final game. If we won we would advance to a regional tournament that would have been aired on ESPN.
Before the game as we were walking to the field my dad told me “try to hit a single, not a homerun. Then good things will happen”. Following this motto I stepped to the plate in the first inning and popped one over the fence with runners on base to give our team a 3-0 lead. It was a pretty low line drive so I was running hard the whole way until it finally bounced on the far side of the fence. It was a great feeling but I knew we still had a whole game to play.
My next plate appearance was different though. The bases were loaded with one out. I knew that if I got only a single it would drive in at least two runs. I picked up my trusty bat and headed for the batters box. I went through my routine of reaching down and rubbing the rough gravel for some extra grip in my sweaty palms. The first pitch was low and outside so I let it go for ball one, but the second pitch was right down the middle. Out of instinct from practice I swung the bat, nice and relaxed. I barely felt anything as I followed through. I felt something that I had never felt before in sports. I knew without a doubt in my mind that it was a homerun. I stood there and watched the ball sail over the fence and into the trees behind the field. The crowd erupted in cheers and it finally hit me that I had just hit a Grand Slam, the single best offensive play in baseball. As I rounded third base I saw all of my teammates crowding around home plate waiting from my arrival. I jumped up and hit home and was immediately swarmed with cheers and congratulations. I felt nothing but pure excitement and joy. It was amazing.
Although we had so much success on offence, we unfortunately ended up losing the game due to a late rally by the other team. It was a major let down, but I will never forget the feeling of knowing that I had done something great before it actually happened.
Hansol,
Great story about you biking crash. It was entertaining to listen to your story and remember some of the reckless things I did as a young kid. You might consider adding some more imagery and detail about you surroundings to allow the reader to imagine what you saw around you. Overall very good
“The Worst Weather In the World”
I woke up with the stuffy, mold smell filling my nose that seemed like I had just fallen asleep to. It was 7 AM and we were preparing to leave the small, local motel in Gorham, NH. We were about to embark on a trip that we had planned for over six months; to hike the famous Mount Washington.
My father, my mother, my sister, Liz, and I all piled into our silver, Toyota van. Excitement filled the van for the last half hour drive to the mountain. We talked enthusiastically, nonstop, until we reached the parking area of the mountain. Many cars were already piling in to get the best spots possible. I stepped out of the car and swung on my backpack filled with a 64-ounce, Nalgene, water bottle, sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a hat. Once we were all ready, we set off to the base of the mountain.
We approached The Tuckerman’s Ravine Trail sign that read, “Mt Washington’s Summit: 4.1 Miles”. Eager to reach the top, we set off, as a nice little family, up the wide, rock trail. Although it was just eight in the morning, the sun was shining brightly on a beautiful, seventy-degree day in September.
For the first half hour of our hike we admired the gorgeous landscapes of the mountain like small trickling waterfalls and steep drop-offs. Occasionally stopping for a family picture next to a fallen tree or huge boulder. In the fifteen minutes, my sister, Liz, and I grew a large gap between our parents due to their slower pace. Ahead by so much, we made a plan to meet up with them at a small lodge in the ravine.
My eagerness to reach the top put another gap between Liz and I. Not wanting to keep up, she turned back to meet up with our parents. But not before making sure I would stop at the lodge to wait for the them. Waving her off, I continued on, solo. Not knowing completely the right direction I would guess when approaching a fork. With no one to hike with, my pace increased to almost a run. Jumping over rocks and roots and dodging other hiking parties on my trek to the top.
It was just nine o’clock when I reached Tuckerman’s Ravine Lodge. Remembering my promise, I waited for the family. After ten minutes and no sign of them, I decided to proceed on. With with the sight of the last part of trail ahead and excitement pumping through me, I was confident I could finish it alone.
After ten minutes, the apparent increase of incline, narrower trail, and rockier terrain, the journey ahead proposed a much larger challenge than I imagined. I stopped at a large boulder and climbed atop. Above the tree line I could see everything and what I saw was stunning. Below me the mountain opened up into a vast bowl of forest. Ahead of me faced nothing but steep rock mountaintop with a magnificent waterfall carving through dozens of feet of steep rock. I knew now why it was called Tuckerman’s Ravine.
I continued on after that short break, feeling refreshed with water and the views. My fast pace hiking style still was in act and I reached the toughest part of the trek quickly. Above I faced a near vertical wall of rock that stood at least thirty feet. Not waiting, I quickly started to climb, grabbing hold of secure looking rocks. Occasionally loose rocks made me slip, but I held tight, knowing that one wrong move would send me down a painful slide of rocks. Keeping my composure I was able to finish the climb and get over the edge of the ravine. What lay ahead was an enormous rock field filled with football fields of boulders.
continued from above...
The physical strain of that daunting climb left me with little energy, but I knew I was close to the top. Continuing through the rock field was tougher than I thought but after twenty minutes I stood just below edge of the summit. Finishing what should have been a four hour hike in just two and half hours. I pulled myself over the edge and was welcomed by 55 mph winds and 30-degree air. What once a sunny day below, was now a chilly, windy, and cloudy day on top.
Over the next hour and half, I enjoyed myself while waiting for my dad and my sister (I found out later my mom hiked back down the trail from the lodge). I explored the summit, visiting the open observatory deck, the warm cafeteria, and the gift shop. Finally, after an hour and a half, my father and sister reached the top as well, greeting me as they walked to the observatory deck. There we stood on top, overlooking New Hampshire below, as we embraced as some say is, “The Worst Weather in the World”.
Personal Narrative
By Rainie Kaplan
A week ago I had just graduated from middle school and I am still shocked that I made it through that dramatic school alive. My cousin Zoe and I are filled with excitement to go on this amazing back packing trip in Costa Rica. It’s a three weeklong community service program that allows you to explore life as a tico (a native Costa Rican). I imagined a small group of students becoming great friends and having a life changing experience, but when I get to the airport with my insanely heavy backpack on my back and in head-to-toe hiking gear the first thing I see is 25 kids all normally dressed huddled together talking, checking their bags and saying their goodbyes. When I get in line to check my bag, I notice the girl in front of me has two huge duffle bags with the monogrammed Louis Vouton symbols all over it. I knew from that point on that this was not what I thought I had signed up for. It turns out that there are 36 of us going on this trip and about 20 of the kids are from the Upper East Side of Manhattan. After I said my goodbyes to my family, Zoe and I tried talking to some other kids. When I introduced myself and told them I was from Vermont, one kid asked if my parents were hippies, and another asked if I knew what a mall was. A little angered and hurt by this I calmly explained that I was normal and that I was dressed this way because I actually followed the packing list.
After going through security and finding the gate we all filed on to the plane. I was stuck in the last row, in a middle seat with an old wrinkly woman who smelled of coffee and perfume and a girl who was on the trip. The next thing I know our captain announces over the loud speaker that our flight has been delayed six hours. The girl on my right didn’t even look at me, and after the announcement was made immediately got up and started talking with her friends that she already knew. When I looked across the aisle to try to meet eyes with Zoe, she was too busy chatting with the girl sitting next to her. I started loosing hope and I felt like the looser from one of those cheesy Disney movies. I look over at the old woman sitting next to me. The woman looks a bit in a daze, being surrounded by thirty snooty middle school kids could put anyone in to shock. Feeling bad for the old woman I decided to try to make conversation with her. We ended up talking for the whole plane ride. She was a very cool Latina woman who was in the medical device field and on her way to a meeting in Costa Rica. I told her my situation and she simply replied, “This is just the first day! Just put yourself out there, and if nothing turns out at least you are in one of the most wonderful places in the world!” This gave me such courage for the rest of the trip.
I didn’t end up having the life changing experience that I originally hoped for, but I did end up having a good time. I made lots of friends from all over the country, and some of those Manhattan kids were actually very nice. This trip taught me that I should always keep an open mind when meeting new people because you never know whom you might meet.
Eileen I thought you did a great job describing your feelings on the plane and you did a great job concluding your essay.
Touchdown! The plane landed with a thud on the dull, barren landscape. “Why on earth did we come here?!” I thought silently to myself with my two aunts by my side. It was the middle of the night as we made the trek from the airport to our hotel. Little did I know of the secrets and surprises that this foreign land held. It was Iceland. It was Iceland and we had no clue what to expect.
My third voyage across the Atlantic brought so many memories I will not soon forget. I mean how many people can say they’ve walked across a faultline from North America to Europe? It was like being on another planet. On the first day we walked through the capital, Reykjavik, which is really nothing more than a small town. The colorful houses and shops stood in stark contrast against the surrounding grey landscape. Later in the trip we would discover the green oasis just on the other side of the mountains and volcanoes.
Another unforgettable thing was the food. The locals enjoy a primarily strictly seafood diet. The enjoy such delicacies like puffin, shark and of course my favorite, Moby Dick on a Stick, aka whale. Eating at some of the Icelandic restaurants was quite difficult for my aunts and I so we found ourselves dining at some of the other surprising eateries there such as Indian, Korean and Italian food. We managed to find one dish we actually found edible called meat soup, a stew of lamb and vegetables. It just warmed your soul in the cold Icelandic weather!
The two single handedly most incredible things we got to visit were two very different lagoons. One, the Blue Lagoon, was a gorgeous oasis in an ancient lava field fed by geothermal waters. We must have stayed in there for hours just basking in the minerals that rejuvenated your skin. The other, the Glacial Lagoon, was a lagoon at the bottom of Europe’s biggest glacier filled with icebergs. We got to cruise around it on a boat and even sample some 1,500 year-old ice! Those two bodies of water were my favorite parts of the trip without question.
Iceland was a land full of pleasant surprises and experiences that I’ll have for the rest of my life. From hiking across glaciers and volcanoes, walked under waterfalls and seeing geysers shoot up into the sky, this was a trip like no other. I’m incredibly lucky to have had such a wonderful experience.
Rainie-
I really loved your essay! You had great descriptions and really did a good job on recreating the event! The only thing you should do is make it flow better but otherwise awesome!!!
Max Schwarz
It was last period on a sunny day and Mr. Bebeau was calling out the people that would be going on the zip line today. The list of numbers he was calling out included my number, so I went up to him and reminded him that I didn’t want to go. He then told me to come just in case I change my mind. I had already decided that there was no way that I was going on that ledge and jumping off but I put on a harness and followed Mr. Bebeau anyway. The people whose numbers didn’t get called proceeded to the area with the tower while we trudged through some tall grass behind the football field and arrived at the base of a steep hill. We kept on moving and started to climb. The hill was covered with thick roots and weaved from side to side. In no time we arrived at the ladder and belay site.
If it wasn’t your turn on the zip line then you were told to sit on the hill or fill in as the person who belays, backup belays, or be the ladder holder or rope manager. I sat on the hill for a couple of turns and was the rope manager once or twice until we were down to our last four who hadn’t gone. Nobody wanted to go. All of the sudden my harness felt a lot tighter. My heart began to race and all I could do was smile and shake my head. After a minute of indecision someone volunteered. My heart slowed a fraction of a beat down. But before I knew it, it was time for another person to go. This time no one volunteered. We all sat there getting reassured by the people who had already gone and had come back up. Mr. Bebeau was up in the tree, the clip in his hand, telling us to hurry up and make a decision. My whole body froze and I choked out the words, “Ok, I’ll do it”.
I was then clipped in and started to climb the ladder. My mind was jumping from thought to thought, thinking, “What the heck am I doing?”, “What if the clip breaks?”, “What if I freak out and can’t do it?” I then arrived at the top of the ledge, for this year this was my first climb I had ever done outside. Mr. Bebeau then started giving me a bunch of instructions but I heard nothing. All I felt were my legs shaking like mad. I asked Mr. Bebeau to repeat himself because my mind was racing and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. After more directions that I couldn’t comprehend he told me to sit down, this I heard.
Soon he gave me permission to go. I knew that at this point the best decision was to just shove myself off and not think about, so that’s what I did. The moment I was off that ledge relief swept over me. I had done it! The wind encompassed me as I flew through the air. I was so glad and I realized that all the comments about how you won’t regret were true. I then arrived at the place where the remainder of the class stood, waiting with the tower. I hit the stopper block at the end of the wire and bounced backward to be caught by my classmates, just as planned.
I now know that it is wise to once and a while throw yourself off that ledge to accomplish something and to feel proud. Overall I think that the feeling of relief and the mere fact that I had done it and that it was over out weighed the stress that I had to go through to be at that point. As I look back at this moment I’m thankful that Mr. Bebeau told me to come along that day, just in case.
Ethan, I liked your description of the moment when the bees came out. There was a grammatical error in the beginning where you repeated a phrase. Also at the end when you were talking about you telling your dad that you knew who wanted to stay in the back, that part got a little confusing.
Nice Job
Ike
“Hey, look at this in the newspaper, ” my dad says “There’s Leonberger pups for sale in Bridgewater.” That was the start of something that will always be a huge part of my Childhood for as long as I’m alive. His name is Ike. He is a 110 pond 10 month old Leonberger. To tell you the story of why I had to work so hard to get him, I have to tell you about our first Leonberger, Ozzie.
Ozzie was a great dog as a puppy but as he got older, he started to act very odd. He started to misbehave and even bite anyone he didn’t know so, naturally, we had to give him away when he was a bit older than one year old to the breeder that we got him from. He also was looking very unhealthy and skinny at the same time he was misbehaving. Only two years later, the breeder notified us that Ozzie had died at only three years old. It turned out that it was a brain abscess that made him so sick. After having Ozzie, because of all of the trouble that he had caused and how sad it was to have to get rid of a dog that was so young, my mom promised to herself she would never get a Leonberger again.
When my dad saw the add in the paper for leonberger puppies, I got so excited that we had to go see them (I had a great relationship with Ozzie, he only did those weird things to people he didn’t know). We went over to see them thinking there was no way we were going to get one but, when we got there, I fell in love with these dogs and so did my dad. “We need one,” I said. But my mom thought differently. We left debating the idea but my mom had such bad memories of Ozzie that she said there was no way she was going to take care of the dog when my dad and I are gone. When we got home, I found all of the contact information on the litter that the breeder had before. I called and e-mailed every single one and I got positive replies that said each dog was the best dog they’ve ever had. This made my mom think about getting the dog.
That winter, I had planed a trip to Colorado for a week with my friends for an amazing snowboard trip and I was so excited. Once all of those positive replys came back, my mom said that if I wanted this dog, I couldn’t go to Colorado ( this was kind of her test of if I really wanted this dog, thinking there was no way I would say yes). I said OK. Seeing how I had given up a trip that I had been so excited to go on showed her that I really did want this dog.
With my moms mind still not made up, we went back to see the litter for a second time. We went to see the parents to see if they were healthy and they were large, good looking dogs. I went into he house, hoping these puppies would make my moms mind. When we left, we had a puppy picked out and ready to be picked up when he was old enough.
The day had come when I could finally go pick up Ike. I had been going to visit every weekend for four weeks and it was an hour drive there. When I got to he house, I went straight to the basement to get the puppy and I took him right upstairs. My Parents filled out all of the vet work and then, we were on our way. Lucky I chose him because that week, I broke my arm and wouldn’t have able to go to Colorado.
Through my winter of a broken arm, Ike was the only thing that made each day great. Now, Ike has grown into a big, loveable dog and, although he is a handful of work, he’s a great dog. I bring him everywhere and everyone who knows him, loves him.
Full of excitement and a healthy measure of apprehension, I waited for the plane. We were taking Iceland Air to Glasgow, Scotland that day and I had never been more ecstatic. I would soon be on my way to a land of castles and open fields, haggis and the delicious Cadbury candy bars that we didn't have here in the United States. I would be meeting plenty of relatives, including one who was my age and lived on a small island called Islay. We would follow this up with a few days in Iceland to see the country and try out the hot springs at Blue Lagoon. It would be a completely new experience, and I was pumped.
The flight over was pretty good, excluding the short layover in Iceland. Like most airports, there were designated smoking areas. Unlike most airports the ones here lacked doors, so the sickening smell of cigarette smoke permeated the hallways and waiting areas. All I wanted to do was get back on the plane to escape the smell and get on with the journey. Sadly, we had a couple hours to go, but it passed soon enough and we flew off to Glasgow. Once there we went through customs and got in the minivan we rented. I knew that cars there would be smaller, but I didn't realize just how much smaller. The person in the back was almost covered with luggage, and even with my smaller body, I had no legroom in the second row of seats either. We drove a short while until we saw a man who my parents recognized as a relative of ours directing us toward a parking spot. He looked nervous, which seemed kind of odd, but it turned out we were parallel parking between his Mercedes and a second car, so his worry was understandable. He introduced himself as Pat, and showed us to the unused apartment of some relative, that we would be staying in for the night. He made arrangements with my parents to meet us for dinner, then let us get settled.
We had just gotten off the plane, so we decided to walk around. We were only a short distance away from what seemed to be a little shopping area, and there was a nice open park-like area near the apartment. As we were walking, we saw a lot of sporting goods shops, and decided that a soccer ball would be a smart purchase as a good way to pass the time and stretch our legs. After all, we would be spending a lot of time in the car during our travels around Scotland. We went back and kicked the ball around in the park a little bit before returning to the apartment to get prepared for dinner. We met Pat and Linda (his wife), a few blocks away from the restaurant and spent the time trying to acclimate ourselves to Pat's very strong accent. Out of all the relatives we met, Pat would be the hardest to understand because he was from a different part of Scotland then all our other relatives.
continued...
While at dinner we learned that our relatives were very divided over favorite soccer teams. Most of our relatives lived on Islay, and loved the Rangers. Pat was so much a diehard Celtic fan that he had their crest tattooed over his heart. Our only experience with these two teams was from the FIFA video game, and we had grown preferential to Celtic. Much to the enjoyment of Pat and the later chagrin of our other relatives. They didn't understand why people with no personal connection to either team would prefer the one that at the time, and still is, worse. I guess it was just because Celtic had a great player that we liked to play with in FIFA, and who helped grow our attachment.
We spent many a day looking around cities at the classic architecture, and making constant detours to see the castles, but the most memorable one was Edinburgh castle. There was quite a line to get in, but it was well worth the wait. It loomed over the rest of the city as if evil, but once inside the castle grounds, we saw just how beautiful it really was. It was full of beautiful furniture and artwork. All in all it was just beautiful; completely worth the long wait in the rain.
We got off the ferry to Islay a little past dinner time. It was getting dark and a relative of us was going to be picking us up. He showed up in a range rover, which I soon saw was a necessity. We sped along a bumpy dirt road at a speed that was much higher than was safe, but the ride was very smooth. We stayed in a house next to that of our relatives that is called Persabus. After settling in, we went over and met the rest of our relatives, including a boy my age named Duncan. Soon enough we were up in his room getting dominated by him in games of Super Smash Bros. That became a daily tradition, along with trying to bounce each other of off a trampoline lacking a net. We once bounced Peter off when he was curled up in a little ball, and he did a spectacular flip before thudding to the ground. Needless to say, we soon stopped that game. From a gleaming stack of Fanta cans that we made while having dinner at a restaurant one night, to the highland cows in the field by the house on Islay, to the road on one part of Islay that was home to three different famous whiskey distilleries, Islay was the most fun I had in Scotland.
I learned that time spent in another person's culture is never a waste of time. Despite differences in environment and in some cases, food, I greatly enjoyed myself. Even if I hadn't had fun, I would've still appreciated that a learned new things and saw things that I simply couldn't have seen in the United States.
Chris
I really liked how you made us feel how determined you were to get Ike. Your writing really showed me how important he is to you.
Twelve years ago, I was like that little girl that you see dancing in the supermarket aisles, twirling until she falls into the hot summer sand, and bouncing down the sidewalk with arms flailing to the music inside of her head. Figure skating was always lingering in my mind, so the summer before my first skating lesson was filled with daydreams of waltz jumps and scratch spins.
As fall approached, it brought chilly mornings, leaf piles to jump in, and, most importantly, the skating season. As I stepped into the penalty box for the first time, with my shiny, bright white skates hugging my ankles, I became nervous at the sight of ice smoother than I had ever laid my eyes on before. When my blades met the ice for the first time, I coasted for an inch across the glassy surface, which felt more like three yards. It ended all too soon, however, as I toppled over onto the cold, unforgiving ice: a sensation that I had yet to experience hundreds of times throughout my life. Little did I know that in ten years, I would watch as my students have the same experience getting on the ice for the first time that I did.
Skating was an exciting experience for me, but a scary one as well. For the most part, I did my best to avoid the older skaters that circled the ice, fast and boisterous. One of the most memorable aspects of my early skating was my mentor, Nathalie. She was a high school skater that helped out with the young kids’ classes. Her brown curly hair and bright smile always lit up my day – nobody at the club could do a sit spin like she could. It was my dream to be like her someday, and as it turns out, that dream would come true.
Ten years later, I stood on the ice after my practice, watching the squabbling basic
skills students squirming in excitement to get on the ice. They poured out onto the ice, until only the new skaters were left, the ones that would be stepping on for the first time. The last one on was Lorraine, who, taking my hand, inched forward one step at a time. She progressed with me from not being able to let go of my hand to completing her first spins and jumps successfully. It was not until then that I realized how I was a mentor to her, like Nathalie was to me. I have continued to skate and teach young children to do so, but I treasure my time with them even more because of my experience with my first student.
I woke up and noticed that the glow of the sunset had changed to blackness. Not knowing where we were or how much longer we would be in the van, I looked around to see what was outside my window. We were pulling into a gravel drive and I could see a light not too far off in the distance. As we approached, a great white house came into view and I saw my Uncle Banjerd for the first time, waiting on the porch to greet us.
My family and I were in Thailand, where we were visiting family for the summer. We had travelled almost three hundred miles from Chiang Mai into the mountains of Chiang Rai, so our legs were a bit stiff as we climbed out of the van and collected our bags. After we finished our greetings, we went inside for a late dinner that had been prepared. I slid off my shoes and went inside. With the cool feeling of the tile floor beneath me, I looked around the house. There were tons of artifacts all around me, but what drew my attention were all the cowboy hats and American-made guns. I continued to look around and saw pictures of my uncle Banjerd with generals from the United States’ Army and Air Force. It had been so long since I had seen anything from America other than the things I brought with me. I was so surprised to suddenly see all of these reminders of America, especially in Thailand.
I asked my dad why Uncle Banjerd had all of these things. He answered simply that my uncle loved almost anything that came from the United States. My dad asked me if I had seen the Jeep Wranglers in the driveway and he told me that the last time he was here, pictures of John Wayne were on several walls. I finished looking around the house and finally sat down at the table with everyone else. After our bellies were full of the warm flavors of Thailand, we found our rooms and fell asleep quickly.
In the morning, after eating breakfast, we learned that we would be visiting my uncle’s church. My grandparents, cousins, parents, siblings, and I all loaded ourselves into the van with dreadful looks in our eyes, not knowing how long our trip would be this time. Not too long after, we pulled into a parking spot in an alley. Ahead of us we saw a beautiful building made of stone and marble. It was Darunaman mosque, one of the largest mosques in Thailand. A man greeted us and then took us on a tour. My grandmother informed my siblings and me that our Uncle Banjerd was the Imam at this mosque. Their family had donated the land that the mosque was built on several generations ago. The man who took us on the tour was very proud of the beautiful, large mosque, and he seemed even prouder to show it to Americans.
After our trip, I still wonder why many Americans think that all Muslims are terrorists and are trying to kill us. My uncle is a leader in a mosque, yet he loves America. Many members from my mom’s side of the family grew up as Muslims and have only respect and affection for America. Stereotyping leads only to more hatred and violence.
Henry -
I really like the way your first paragraph left me interested in reading the rest of your piece- I wanted to know what the suprises were. Your paragraph describing the different foods was very interesting, but you could include some more sensory detail, like smells and tastes. You could also include more detail about what you saw when you were at the lagoons - what did the lava look like, and what made it gorgeous? It was great to learn about your trip!
"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" My Alarm woke me up at 6:45 am. It was my first day at a new school. I got up without even opening my eyes and almost trip on my skateboard as I am walking out of my room. I took a shower and had breakfast. I started to get nervous about the day ahead of me. I was worrying about my classes and who i would hang out with during lunch. I had my schedule but no idea where anything was and who anyone was. When the time came to drive down to the bus I got in the car and we drove to the Marion Cross School which was the location of the Bus Stop. As I walked to the bus I had the worst stomach ache and felt like I was going to throw up. There were so many mysterious faces and surroundings I did not recognize. One of the hardest parts of the morning was getting on the bus. I stepped up the stairs into the bus and had no idea where to sit. All of the seats had at least one person in them making it so i would have to sit with someone that i didn't know. I made my way to the closest seat possible and sat down. The bus ride was the longest 15 minutes of my life. I didn't say a word to anyone and no one said a word to me. I was immensely relieved when we arrived at the school and I could leave my seat and walk into the school. Right as I walked in I went straight to my Homeroom which was also my english room. My homeroom was mostly infested by girls except for 4 boys including me. After i had put my backpack in my cubby I instinctively went and sat down with the three other boys. I had informally introduced myself and learned their names. Pretty much right after that we were instructed to head to our first class. As I entered my first class I sat down where ever there was an open seat and tried just to focus on the class and not on trying to meet new people. After about half way through the day it was lunch time. I went to the cafeteria and was very surprised at the selection of food. There was no cafeteria at my old school so it was very interesting to try the food. after I had purchased my lunch I went back to my homeroom and at with the 3 other boys that were there. From then on the day ran pretty smoothly and I took the bus home with much less caution than before. Before that day I had thought that moving would be the hardest thing I had ever done in my entire life and it ended up being a lot better than I had expected.
Noah,
I really liked your intro and how it was worded. I also like your vocabulary and sensory details very much and they worked very well in your narrative.
Good Job
Silence. Nobody moved, no sound, no rustling papers, no loons. Just silence so heavy I could almost feel it pressing in on my eardrums. We sat in the pitch black holding our breaths in anticipation, holding in sobs while clutching each others hands. Then came the sad sound of a lone trumpet echoing off the edges of the lake creating the effect of a second instrument. As the last mournful notes died away the realization hit me that it was the my last night at Coniston.
Half an hour previously the whole camp had sat on the main lawn bathed in candle light. It was time for the candle lighting ceremony and the handing out of the 5th year triangles. Being a last year camper I sat at the back near the top of the hill and was able to look over the whole camp to the director down by the lake. The sight I saw was stunning. Hundreds of faces bent over papers with song lyrics illuminated by hundreds of candles all down the hill facing the lake, we positively glowed. I don’t remember any of the speeches or songs but I do remember the warmth, I’m not sure if it was because I was so conscious of the fact that my flame was getting dangerously close to my fingers or because of so people sitting next to me but it was a cozy feeling.
Finally, when all the speeches were over we were told to blow out the small flames. All across the hill I could see candles flickering then snuffing into blackness until we were all in the dark. A excited hush fell over us as we all looked out toward the middle of the lake where a floating dock stood. On it a small light could be seen. When the first firework screamed towards the sky the camp split with two very different reactions. The majority of the last year campers, including me, burst into tears. It was our last year, our last night and many of us would not be returning as CITs. For all of us Coniston would always be a special place to remember with friends that we would only see at camp and experiences we would never have again. The other reaction was extremely loud. People around me began whooping at the sky as if trying to be heard over the music that began blasting from the porch. As one by one fireworks were shot off all I could think of was how could fireworks that size be legal to buy for a home display? I laughed as I saw my friend sitting beside me. Seconds earlier she had be repressing sobs and down she sat there, screaming and waving her arms in the air as tears continued to stream down her face. Even though I had been one of the criers once the fireworks and music got under way there was no room to feel sad about leaving. The boom and hiss of the fireworks and the thudding music could be felt deep inside my bones and I was filled with the excitement that had infected everyone else.
Finally the music died down and was finally cut off after the last glowing specks of firework had fizzled into nothing in the lake. This time we sat in a more sober quiet, ears still ringing from the all the noise, and taps began. For me Coniston was a really amazing place. It had been my first sleep away camp and every year I had met great people as well as old friends. For me it’s one of those places that you know so well that it makes leaving just a bit easier but at the same time you want to hold onto it forever and return every summer until you die. But of course that isn’t possible so all I could do was make sure I said to say goodbye to everyone before I left and always try to remember the experiences I’d had.
nick-
i like how your narrative is straight forward. you just want to be careful about starting to many sentences with "i did this then that". I also like that you remember so much about the day even down to how many boys were in the homeroom. Picking the first day of school was a great idea because it's relatable so it draws the reader in more. great job.
It was the first half of what seemed to be a pretty close game. I didn’t really care what the outcome would be anyway since non of our games really mattered. So far it had been a pretty slow start; we were still tied 0-0. However, it looked as if the score was about to become 0-1 as the other team set up for a corner kick in our half of the field.
Soccer has always been the sport that I love playing just for the fun of it. I’m never really too disappointed to be put on the lower team as long as I have fun. There are plenty of other things in life that I care much more about or that I’m good at. Unlike most other people who play soccer, I didn’t start until I was in 5th grade. Having little experience compared to my teammates who had been playing the sport practically since birth, I had never scored a goal before. This wasn’t that unusual considering that my primary position at the time was defense.
For some reason my coach had put me in as a forward, a position I had never played before. I considered how idiotic this decision was as the thought occurred to me that if a better offensive player was in the field right now, we could actually have a chance at winning. I didn’t understand why my coach would put such an inexperienced forward on the field at a time when the score would probably end up being very close. If we had been dominating, I could see him putting me in to gain some experience at playing offense. But now, when the other team had a clear shot at scoring? I shook the thought out of my head and stared at the field, digging my cleats into the grass and trying my best to distract myself from the nervous energy coursing through my veins.
I must have been off in a daydream. Somehow the ball was flying through the air right over my head and I suddenly heard people shrieking my name. “ELEANOR, THAT’S YOU! GO GO GO!!!”. I snapped back into reality. One of our defensive players had cleared the ball half way across the field. Practically every player on the other team was in our half of the field for the corner kick, leaving their half completely bare with the exception of a few defense players near the half way line. I sprinted to the ball and somehow made it past the other team’s defense, who had also been caught off guard by the sudden change in pace. My heart was pounding hard as I ran with all my might, every muscle infused with pure adrenaline. I had never had such a clear shot at scoring a goal in my life.
The fact that I had such a clear shot started to worry me. What if I screwed up and completely missed the goal? What if one of their defensive players caught up to me? I thought about how embarrassing it would be to give up such an easy goal. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I could barely hear the crowd of Hanover parents roaring and my teammates cheering me on. Their voices were faint against the noise of the rushing air pounding in my ears as I flew down the field. It was as if all of my senses had gone completely blank. All I could register was the goalie, the wide open field, and the ball rolling at my feet. I tried my hardest to push the thoughts of disappointing my coach, my teammates, the parents, and myself.
I sprinted harder and focused on the fact that I had nothing to loose. The outcome wouldn’t matter; it wasn’t like we were at the state championships. The next 30 seconds seemed to last an eternity to me. I lived in that moment; I dribbled faster, ran harder, and glanced up at the goal. The goalie looked terrified, and I knew I had the advantage. I came closer and closer to the goal, positioning myself to shoot. I pushed the ball away from me just far enough that I could have enough power, but just little enough so that the goalie would have enough time to come out. My left cleat dug into the ground as I planted it and lifted my right to shoot the ball. I looked up at my target, the far corner. I knew I shouldn’t over think the shot or else I would mess up. My right foot made contact with the ball and lifted it up into the air, soaring towards the right side of the goal with power and speed. There was nothing I could do now; nothing I could do to change the situation. The ball had left my grasp and I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the possibility that the goalie would make a save. She didn’t, and the ball hit the net with a satisfying thwack.
I was in a complete daze at what had happened. I had made my first goal! My teammates came rushing down the field to congratulate me. Parents I didn’t even know came up to me saying “Great goal, Eleanor!”. From that moment on I was never afraid to play offense. To most it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but ever since then I’ve had more confidence in soccer.
Sara-
I can totally relate to your story. I just had my last summer at the camp I go to (Lochearn) which was a really emotional experience. I would suggest maybe flashing back to your first summer at Coniston and what that was like for you/some events at camp or people you met that made an impact on your life.
Brilliant, that name just stood out to me when I as reading the website. The thought of learning to sail aboard a 62 foot schooner was absolutely terrifying, but fun, so I signed up. I did not know much about sailing before this trip. I had never seen anything like the boat, Brilliant. As soon as we all got there, we were thrown into a world of “do it yourself.” The first day, we were taught how do all the tasks, and for the next five days, we did them ourselves. Raising sails, attaching the jib sheet, polishing brass, navigating our way, and lots more. Through many thrilling and funny moments, those six days have been some of the greatest.
The first day it was the slightly awkward introductions, and attempting to create natural conversation. We learned how to do all the tasks necessary to make the boat sail smoothly. To me, the first day was the worst. Rolling waves that were 8 feet high, and almost no wind. Half of my crew mates were sea sick. I just kept my hand on the wheel and kept close attention to the degrees the bow of the boat was pointed at. With no wind, we had to turn the motor on, we were looking for a line of ripples on the water, coming our way. Once the wind finally found us, we picked up speed, and traveled 46 miles to anchor in a little bay on the coast of Connecticut.
“Rise and shine! All you little sailors!” This was our wake up the next morning from our captain, Ham. The eight of us polished all the brass on the boat, totalling to about 2 hours of work. In the middle enjoying a nice breakfast from the cook on board, Tori. Because of all the seasickness the day before, we decided to have a nice calm sail in the Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island. The wind was coming strait at us, which meant we had to tack, meaning going in a zig-zag into the wind. About every ten minutes or so, we would steer into the wind, pull jib sheet to the other side, and then release the mainsail. This task was difficult at first, but we quickly picked up on it from the regularity of use. It was sunny, with just the right amount of wind, we decided to stay in the Narragansett Bay for two days. We jumped off the side of Brilliant, into the freezing cold salty water, and watched little clans of baby jellyfish swimming underneath us. After the second day in the bay, we set out for Block Island.
We were about half way to Block Island, with a great wind, when it all of a sudden it died and a large patch of fog rolled in. We could barely see 20 feet off either side of the boat. We took down the mainsail, to slow down just to make sure we stayed on course. Because of the extremely slow pace, we finally saw the light house from the coast guard station on Block Island. We followed the lights and path or red and green buoys into the Great Salt Pond to anchor for the night. The fog was still very thick, and it was now dark. Two people stood on the port side, and two on the starboard side, to estimate how far away other boats were. The harbor was very crowded and all we could see was the lights on the tip of the tallest mast. We at last put down the anchor at 10:30. We all slept very soundly that night, the next morning, we took a trip to Block Island to treat ourselves to smoothies. The next two days we took it easy coming to Mystic Seaport, stopping a couple times to swim, and enjoying the sail.
We all became friends, made inside jokes, and laughed hysterically at dinner. Watched the sunset from out on the bowsprit and played cards at dusk. We spent hard hours hauling line, pulling the anchor up, and tying sails. I never expected that trip to be so many different things at once. My favorite moment was on the last day, sitting on the bowsprit, watching the water under my feet, and seeing the occasional large purple jellyfish, well, it was brilliant.
Sorrento, Italy. A place with plenty of sun, warm beaches, and ancient houses on cobbled roads. That is where my family and I spent part of this summer. We relaxed on the sandy Oceanside, soaking up rays while sipping large amounts of limonata, Italian lemonade. Surly I will never forget the azure sky and the green cliffs overlooking the water. Italy was all I heard it would be, from bright local markets to cute houses from the fifteenth century. The reason we went was to honor my aunt, Suzie, and her new husband, John; it was their wedding day.
The beginning of the day started out great. My brother and I went climbing in the cliffs, whilst taking pictures of the various butterflies and lizards. My sister and my mom, who couldn’t stop talking about their new dresses, went to get a manicure at the hotel. My father stayed on the beach with a new book. It was the perfect day, the sun was shining, and a feint breeze had picked up. With each minute that passed I became more and more excited, nothing could go wrong!
“Finally!” I huffed as we reached the top of the cliff. From here, we could see anything. To our left was the bay, speckled with big and little boats, while to our right was the rest of the town. My brother was smiling, I was smiling, the world was right. But suddenly- a loud boom erupted from the sky not too far away. We swiveled our heads this way and that searching for the source. Several black, ominous clouds began forming in the distance. “We better get down” my brother said. He was right. All of a sudden the soft breeze became a howling wind. Waves crashed on the beach with each gust. By the time we were halfway down the trail the rain started to fall. Slipping with every step, we eventually made our way back.
My mother and sister were waiting inside the hotel room. My dad was looking at the weather on the Internet. “It doesn’t look good” he sighed. This was truly bad luck. The wedding would be ruined. From our window we could see people shuttling in chairs and tables inside. The wedding would still go on.
When we arrived, most of the guests had already come, they were shaking out wet umbrellas and unwrapping covered gifts. I had expected everyone’s mood to be somber, reflecting the weather, but to my surprise, they hugged, and kissed, and laughed. The rain was pelting down outside now, but we were dry under the tent. Suzie emerged onto the isle and looked as radiant as ever. She was clearly very happy. Even when the priest had to stop reciting the vows because of thunder, everyone remained teary-eyed.
The ceremony ended, and a dj took over the controls. People danced in the center of the tent and little kids ran from table to table. I met people who I had not seen since I was a baby, and I talked with the bride. Outside, it began to get dark, and people pulled on sweaters because it was cold, but they kept on smiling. My family stayed as late as possible before rushing through the rain back to our hotel. It had been a grand night.
What I took away from this experience most is that even when something looks bad, you can always find a positive side. For me, I managed to have a good time at the wedding because of the friends and family around me. I decided that instead of worrying about the rain, I should try and be happy.
It’s hard to believe that some of the simplest things for me now were once the most difficult. I can remember countless days and hours all spent in the gym, doing endless repetitions of each skill, although one practice stands out in my head quite a bit, and so does the meet that followed. It was one of those typical Friday practices that come before every meet, which I always find myself doing endless routines to get ready. Bars was the last event I practiced that day, and my coach surprised me by deciding that he didn’t want to do the skill that I normally competed on high bar, and wanted me to compete a giant instead. I had been competing a free hip on high bar, which is when I circle around the bar without actually laying on it. For this meet, my coach told me that instead of doing that, he wanted me to compete a giant. A giant is similar to a free hip except my body is kept straight the whole time when circling around the bar. I had done the skill a before on pit bar before with him helping me, but I had only done it on regular bar a few times before. Now in addition to doing the skill, I also had to do it without him helping me, and in a competition. This was a complete surprise to me, and I didn’t actually think that he was serious at first. I definitely didn’t think I was ready, and knew he wouldn’t ask me to do a skill that he didn’t believe I was capable of performing. I practiced them anyway as he asked, although none were very successful. But as I practiced, I began to figure out that he was being completely serious, and that I would be competing giants the next day.
At meets, my teamates and I are first given time to warm up the event we are on, and then we have to compete it. The time we were given to warm up bars seemed to pass extremely quickly for me. I was able to manage to do one giant, although it wasn’t as good as I would have wanted it to be. Time was called, and we had to stop warming and get ready to compete.
From the moment I stepped onto the mat to start my routine, the only thing I found myself thinking about was that one skill at the end of my routine. The fact that I probably hadn’t had enough practice and done enough repetitions kept going through my head, and I regretted not putting in a full effort in the practice before. It was time for me to start my routine and I began on the low bar. As I grabbed it I could see the chalk flying and it felt like any other routine, although my mind was still on what was to come not what I was doing. Despite my lack of focus on what I was doing in the first half of my bar routine, that part went surprisingly well. Then I jumped to the high bar, grabbed it, swung myself up, and successfully did my giant. All of the sudden, all my worries went away because I realized that I just did the one skill that I was worried the most about doing, and it was over that quickly. I finished my routine with my dismount, and gave my coach a high five. I had done all that he had asked of me and more than I could ever ask for from myself.
I could barely keep my hands from shaking as I did the snaps on my helmet. I didn’t want to let my team down on the first game. I had only being playing lacrosse goalie for a year and I felt under qualified for my position on varsity. I was out of luck, the first game had to be against our rival team, Lebanon. There was no room for mistakes, we had to win. Throughout the warm up I had missed a lot of shots and that added to my fear.
The whistle blew and it was time to play. I pulled my gloves on and ran out to the field. My highly skilled teammates blew past Lebanon defenders and scored five goals in twelve minutes. As grew confident and let my guard down as did my defense. Our slip caused seven shots on goal. I saved four of them. The captain tried to rally the defense while trying to tell me that I was doing I good job. I really wasn’t.
The game was going by so fast. I was getting the hang of it though. My nerves were no longer an issue by the end of the game. It was clear that Hanover was more skilled and we pulled it through in the second half. The motions of stopping the balls were very clear to me by now. The less I thought about it and the more I just let my instinct take over the more saves I made.
It was an offensive win overall. The score was 19 to 7. Even if i stood in the goal without moving we would have still won. In this game I learned many things. I learned that goals are the whole teams fault rather than just the goalies. With this I knew I had to trust my defense and they had to trust me. I also learned that trusting myself was very important. A positive attitude throughout the game is a necessity.
Lindsey-
I liked the story, although you could have described the wedding a bit more. The story seemed to be mostly about the wedding, although the trip itself seemed to be in more detail.
Annalee- I really liked your story and it was very clear. The ending felt a little rushed maybe you should take the time to make it a little more clear. At the same time it was very relatable and well written.
I just finished my first week of high school and need a break. Because of this, I thought this weekend was the perfect time to take my notoriously difficult horse Koda cross country jumping. Cross country jumping consists of many large, solid jumps in an open field and many horses get over excited or nervous when confronted with these large obstacles in wide open spaces. I know I will have an extremely difficult ride in front of me, but I hope that the amount of energy I will have to expend just controlling Koda and staying on will be the perfect antidote for my back to school blues.
As I unload Koda from the trailer, I can see the fear and adrenaline begin to pump through his body. As I watch his eyes widen and his nostrils flare, I know today was going to be an exciting ride. I can’t wait.
After warming up over a few small jumps, Koda starts to calm down. We head to some large and very solid logs and jump them perfectly. Koda hasn’t pulled any of his dirty, last minute stops on me and I am feeling good. Following my friends, we canter up and down hills, laughing the whole time and commenting on the fact that Koda has not pulled any of his trademark ejector seat moves. By this point, Koda’s initial excitement is wearing off and I am getting a little tired (Even on good days, jumping Koda is no picnic). We decide to do one more element, two 2’6” gates a few strides apart. As I approach the jump, Koda becomes distracted and doesn’t see the jump until it is right in front of him. He slams on the brakes. I stay on somehow, quickly correct him and try again. Again Koda stops at the last minute. This time he has no excuse and is in trouble. I strongly correct him as I am instructed and gallop him to the first fence like his tail’s on fire. One stride away, time slows to a near standstill. I hear Koda inhale deeply as he digs his back hooves into the grass and feel his back lift up as he uncoils his muscles and launches over the fence. But something is wrong. Because Koda has now become afraid of this particular jump, he jumps it much too high and I feel myself losing my balance. As the shock of hitting the ground ripples through Koda’s front legs through my entire frame, I rebalance myself for the few strides I have until the next jump. In the stride directly before the second fence, I feel Koda suck back and know he is thinking of stopping. He is going far too fast for me to do anything now and I give him the length of rein I know he will need in order to clear the fence and hope for the best. I feel his front legs lift and I prepare for flight.
And I am flying, but not the way I thought. At the last moment Koda slams his front legs back down and I fly over his head, doing a complete somersault before cracking the back of my head on the very, very solid wooden fence.
I have fallen off horses more times than I can count, but this is different. I can’t see and I feel like I am going to throw up. I stand up to grab Koda before he runs away but as I reach for him I fall back down. My trainer comes running over and takes off my helmet as someone else grabs my terrified animal. The back part of the helmet that hit the fence has split across the seam. These helmets are meant to withstand incredible amounts of force, so when you crack one, it’s a pretty bad sign. The rest is a blur as I my mom rushes me to the ER where the doctor gives me the unsurprising diagnosis of a concussion.
Starting out your second ever week of high school with brain damage really stinks. Reading gives me a horrible headache and I can’t do even simple math like 5+7. Even more embarrassing is the fact that I have lost my entire sense of depth perception and keep walking into things and hurting myself. This coupled with my inability to understand things people say to me makes many of my new friends to think I am an idiot.
The good thing about my concussion is that it doesn’t have any lasting damage and after two weeks I am acting like myself. But the other good thing about my concussion is that I learned not to complain about things you can’t change because they could always be even worse.
Araya-
I thought that your narrative was really interesting because it was really different from everyone else's. Also it made me really think about things in a different way. I think it is an interesting story to post on September 11 as well.
Chris-
in the first paragraph you switch from looking at dogs in the newspaper to having one really fast. maybe if you added like a line or something between those two section it would make the time switch easier to understand
NOTE: I'm not yet finished with this.
I needed to take a moment to catch my breath.
I stepped out of the dense circle pit and stood on my toes to see what the band on the stage looked like. The amount of vapor in the air from the crowd's sweat was unbelievable, and the ballroom reeked of old cigarette smoke and new cardboard boxes full of merchandise. Soon after, I somehow distinguished a voice through the side-comments of the audience on the edge of the pit.
"OH MY GOD, AREN'T YOU THE BEAR HAT KID?"
I pivoted on my well-loved sneakers to see a girl who must have stood no taller than 4'10" or so. She had a silver septum ring that had lost its shine, an inevitably sweat-soaked red bandana wrapped around her forehead, and a beautifully enthusiastic smile on her face. She seemed extremely familiar and welcoming to me, the scent of her generic perfume surrounding the square yard of the floor on which we stood.
"WHAT?!" I asked, in shock. I was moderately confused, although I knew exactly as to what she what she was referring to. I had bought a light brown bear hat at a music festival a couple weeks before that moment. Could she really have been at the same show?
"YOU WERE AT BIG D AND THE KIDS TABLE A COUPLE WEEKS AGO AT WARPED TOUR! I TOOK MY PICTURE WITH YOU AFTERWARDS DURING AUGUST BURNS RED'S SET!" she replied.
Yeah, it was undoubtably her. But I wasn't even wearing the bear hat. How would we have remembered each other at first glance?
I was surrounded by two sorts of men: energetic/slightly overweight punks, and shirtless hipsters. And then there were the females. Girls at punk rock shows are either into the scene, or they've been reluctantly dragged there by their boyfriends. If the female fits the latter description, she is trying her best not best not to get hurt by the swinging arms of a 300 pound dude with the Dirty Rotten Imbeciles shirt and 10-inch, neon-colored liberty spikes on his lice-infested head. This girl was unquestionably one of the former example, though. She knew exactly what she was doing in the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom.
"Oh my god, I totally recognize you!" I eventually remembered who she was, and we heartily embraced. However, before we could formally converse, the sea of punks swallowed us up as the mosh pit enlarged. She was difficult to find again, due to her tiny size. But when I did locate her, we both decided to start a less violent pit on the side of the stage. I was tired of being casually punched in the gut by every single inconsiderate twenty-something in the main pit.
Sara- I really enjoyed the opening paragraph, but the use of "then came" a couple sentences in does not seem like it's as smooth a transition as it could have been. Maybe try "Suddenly" or another word that sounds a bit more smooth to the reader's mind?
I was faced with what seemed like an insurmountable engineering problem. Over the past couple of months, myself and a team of my friends had built a robot and entered it in a competition, where it would have to run rings around a series of challenges. As simple as it may sound, this was a hellish experience. We poured hours of sweat and toil into this machine, tried our hardest to make it work. It was laborious, but eventually we created something that we believed was as close as possible to perfect. It looked ramshackle, like something we had just thrown together, it functioned perfectly.
On the day of the challenge, it worked beautifully, right up until the deciding round. Out on the field, the robot had thrown some kind of internal mechanism, and now all of our carefully calibrated motor readings and tests were useless. Our mad creation seemed to dance to its own offbeat drum, leaving us and our competitive chances in the dust. I had one last chance to solve all of our problems, to fix this machine, and yet I stared at both it and its operating code in silence. No matter how hard I tried, I could not see anything that wasn't working as we had designed it to.
Everything about the situation screamed to me that we must have imagined the failure, that this was how we had made it run, that this was as good as it was ever going to get. And yet, I still looked, spinning blocks of code and tiny machine parts through my mind in an effort to make them fit together. I wanted so badly to give up, but I knew that something wasn't right, and that it was my duty to find it. Configuration after configuration was rejected by my brain's filters, until a coding command here and a few rivets here shifted - and a flash of light shone brilliantly through my brain. I could suddenly see what had happened, which parts had failed, what programs were illogical, and my hands began to fly from robot to computer and back, fixing.
I solved our problems that day. Our team reached its full potential, simply because of an unwillingness to give up and say close enough.. I have taken one major lesson from that competition: If it doesn't work just as you want it to, it is never good enough.
Dez,
I really enjoyed reading your story. You provided brilliant descriptions of the people at the concert, and the sensory details involved in your writing helped me visualize the scene perfectly clearly. Awesome job!
-James
“Autumn, a mosaic of all seasons”
(Stanly Horowitz).
I was so excited the day we left to go to the Adirondacks for my first backpacking trip. I had spent the last month looking forward to and planning for this, it was all I was thinking about. Since we had the idea to go to Marcy Dam then hike Mt. Phelps, I could barely contain my excitement. The night before the day we were supposed to leave I could barely sleep, but I knew that I had to, if I was going to be ready for the long days of hiking and sleeping on the ground that were ahead of me. I eventually fell asleep in my comfortable bed. All I could dream about was Phelps and finally reaching the top.
The next day we piled all of our gear into the car. When we pulled out of the driveway I waved bye to my parents and we were finally on our way out to the mountains. I didn’t think I could survive the three hour car trip to the Campers and Hikers Building where we would start out trek. We listened to Christopher Shaw, a back country singer, on the way up and talked about the upcoming hike. When we finally reached the High Peaks Info Center, where we would begin our hike, I was ready to start. This was the same building where my parents had met seven years before I was born. It was -15 degrees the day that they met in the parking lot and hiked into Marcy Dam together, the same place that we were going right now.
We finished putting all of our gear in our packs at H-PIC. My backpack was heavy but when all the load bearing straps were buckled it was very comfortable. I had all my extra clothes, a sleeping bag and my small tent in my pack, and enough food to last about three days along with water bottles and a water filter for purifying river water.
When Finally were ready to go we signed the hikers log book at the trail head so if we got lost or eaten by a bear they would know where we were going. After that we started hiking. We took turns carrying the food bad since none of us could fit it into our packs. The trail was rocky and had many fallen branches on it, I was able to traverse it with ease but my sister had a more difficult time of it and as a result hiked a substantial amount slower than me. I eventually got tired of waiting so long for her to catch up every 5 minutes so I just took the food bag and continued to hike alone.
It was fall and the leaves were in full color. The autumn sun was sinking in the sky and the bright orange and red leaves cast dancing shadows on the grounds. I could hear the Birds singing in the trees all around me. I heard the ripple and scuttle of water as the trail passed over a clear Adirondack spring at least thirty feet below me in a gorge. The sun shimmered off the water as it tumbled over the smooth back country rocks. My boots didn’t make a sound as I trekked across the fallen leaves that littered the ground all along the trail I was hiking on. I could smell the fragrance of the damp leaves that lay all around me in the forest.
When I reached Marcy Dam it was an amazing sight. I saw the reflection of the sun, now low in the sky, on the lake made by the large log dam. I sat on the edge of the lake and waited for my sister to show up. When she finally did we found a lean to and set up camp. The next day we started the hike to the top of Phelps. Again I outpaced my sister and reached the top before her. I threw my backpack down on the bald top of Phelps and looked around. The view was amazing, I could see for hundreds of miles and all around us was nothing but the color of October. The changes Foliage stretched on for as far as my eyes could see. My sister finally caught up and se sat on the rocks and ate our lunch as the cool fall wind drifted around us, chilling me through my thin fleece.
After descending Phelps we decided to hike back to H-PIC instead of spending another night at Marcy Dam. Before we got back to the car I began to get tired, dragging one foot in front of the other and in almost a daze. I don’t remember much after the dark veil of weariness collapsed on me. The next thing I knew I was able to see the trail head. I dropped my seemingly massive pack in the backseat and slumped in into shotgun. We started to drive back home. All I remember of the ride were the stars, they shown like diamonds on black velvet and the moonlight lit the world around me with a soft glow. I had climbed one of the forty-six high peaks.
James-
I loved the description you gave of the flooding. It shows how so many people had a different experiences of Irene. Some people just say swollen rivers while other had their houses flooded and sometimes ruined.
It’s been described as an explosion of pink in the past to give you a hint of my pink crazy room. Its walls are a light creamy color, with pink ballet shoes, flip-flops, slippers, and Mary Jane flats sprinkled all over the walls. My floors are a dark pine; hard and shiny with a few dents here and there do to my clumsiness. My bed is in the center of my room pushed against the right wall. Its height is about to my waist, and its pretty wide. The bed frame is white, metal, and has a butterfly, two roses, and two daisies dangling from the top of the bed frame. The quilt has almost an argyle pattern; it is light pink, lime green, black, gold and cream. The comforter has very thick hot pink and magenta stripes, folded at the bottom of the bed, making the bed look short and fat. My bookshelf is to the right of my bed, further away from the door. It is snow white, and has three large shelves overflowing with books. Above my bookshelf and my bed there are three pieces of artwork, one of them being a painting of the HHS art room, done by my sister Ella. A Collage of everything I love, and a painting of swirls, which I did in the fourth grade. On the back wall of my room in between two windows is my dresser. It’s a lesser white than my bookshelf, due to its age. My dresser used to be my changing table; with the changing table part still intact, but instead of diaper supplies on top of it, it has my colorful stuffed animals all bunched together. Then in the left hand corner there is my hot pink chair, with my stuffed animal pug Dudley on top of it, guarding my corner. Then pushed against my left hand wall is my bright white desk, with a big pink desk lamp, and my computer sitting on top of it.
Nathalie, I really enjoyed your memory of falling off your horse, you did a great job of bringing the reader into the scene good job!
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