Essential Elements of Narrative Essays

The focus of a narrative essay is the plot, which is told using enough details to build to a climax.
Here's how:

It is usually told chronologically.

It usually has a purpose, which is usually stated in the opening sentence.

It may use dialogue.

It is written with sensory details and vivid descriptions to involve the reader.
All these details relate in some way to the main point the writer is making.

Narrative Essay Sample

The Biggest Nightmare

Rating: 5.0

It was a hot summers day. Everything around me was slowly starting to melt: the trees, the houses, the sky and the
pathway to my garage. It seemed that I was about to melt down myself, so there would only be a small puddle of
glue-like substance left on the ground. I was walking very slowly. My head felt huge and heavy, and every muscle in
my body was sore. My arms and legs were barely responding to the signals that my brain was sending to them. It
felt like a slow-motion horror movie, only it was happening live. I finally reached the front door and touched the
handle. The path that took only a second for my eyes to see, took about twenty minutes for my body to accomplish.
But, I was finally at my goal.
I slowly turned the handle of the door, only to realize it had barely moved. I took all the strength that I had left in
my body and pressed the handle again. No success. I turned around, leaned against the door, and slowly slid down
to the ground. I felt faint. My head was spinning. I was so thirsty that I could barely think about anything else. I had
to get inside; had to pull myself together and open the door. Otherwise, I would faint here, near the front entrance
to my own house, which was not the scenario Id prefer. I pulled myself from the ground and faced the door again. I
closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath, opened them, and pushed the door knob as hard as I could, at the
time. It gave way grudgingly. If it wasnt for the helpless shadow of a man that I was at that moment, I would
definitely have screamed in happiness for finally winning, over this stubborn door knob. But, all I could settle for
right then was a weak smile, and a deep sigh of relief.
I went inside, and had to wait for a minute before I could make out anything. It was too dark, still very hot and,
somehow, very lonely inside. By the time my eyes adapted to the darkness inside, I could tell no one was around.
What time was it? And where was everyone? The house was completely and scarily quiet. The silence was
unnatural. There was no sound coming from the working fridge, or ticking clock; nothing. I went to the kitchen to
get some water, opened the tap and put an empty glass under it. But there was no water, not even a drop! The
glass remained empty. This seemed like a complete nightmare. I must be dreaming! I felt like the world had died
out, everything had stopped and, somehow, I was forgotten here all alone, left to die from thirst and heat.
I was having a panic attack. With the anger and strength that came out of nowhere, I ran from one room to another,
looking for anyone. Mom, Josh, dad, Charlie no one was to be seen. The dogs were gone too. What is wrong with
the place? Again, for the third or fourth time, I caught myself thinking this was just a bad dream. But, my body still
felt very much sore, and I could vividly feel the pain. Having no clue of what else, except the pain, could help me
distinguish between dreaming and reality, I had to accept the fact that I was living this nightmare for real.
Suddenly, I heard a sound coming from downstairs. It was a very slight, faint sound that repeated in a second, only

louder. I ran downstairs, feeling a little scared, and, at the same time, hoping that it was someone, or something,
that could explain to me what was going on.
The living room was empty. The sound was coming from outside the back porch, and it was increasing in loudness
with every new cycle. It reminded me of when dad and I went rowing, and every time dad turned over the oars,
they made the same whistling sound, cleaving the air. I ran outside the back door, and was almost brought down to
the ground by the strength of the wind. It was a helicopter, right above me, coming onto me. I lay on the ground,
screaming, but I couldnt hear my own voice through the noise of the implacable vanes getting closer, and freezing
me to the ground
Jason, honey, wake up! Its just a dream, babe. You look so pale. Are you okay? My mom was standing next to
my bed, trying to calm me down, as I was still screaming and flapping my arms. The air was on, and the fan above
my bed was making that particular whistling sound with each turn.

My Unusual Vacation
Rating: 5.0

Travelling has always been a passion of mine. Being a photographer, I find seeing new places, meeting new people
and getting to know different cultures, exceptionally inspiring. By the age of 32 I had already been to the majority of
exotic places: the Emirates, Ethiopia, Turkey, India, Laos, Thailand, Japan, Egypt, Malaysia, New Zealand, Australia
and Cuba. So, when a friend of mine who was working as a Peace Corps volunteer in the Ukraine invited me to visit
him for a couple of weeks, I thought: Why not?! I do not know what to expect from this country since I know very
little about it. So, it will definitely be an interesting experience! And I was so right about that.
Ukraine turned out to be completely different from everything I have seen so far. A post Soviet Union country, it is
still struggling to build a developed society. But, being a photographer, I was far more interested in nature, people
and sites, than in politics. Ukraine appeared to be a beautiful, even gorgeous country. Being slightly smaller than
Texas, it is extremely diverse and is full of natural wonders that take your breath away. Kyiv, the capital city,
appeared unexpectedly well-groomed, green and wealthy. Lots of bridges across the Dnipro River, a great number
of beautiful parks, a couple of botanical gardens, and many, many flowers everywhere you go. A lot friendlier than
you would think. Next we went to the western Ukraine with its own peculiar culture and atmosphere.
The Carpathian Mountains are gorgeous and very authentic, with small distant villages and little country houses
that seem like the progress will never reach them. An amazingly romantic place! I had been there in late May, but
my friend says these mountains are beautiful all year round a great hiking spot for spring, a beautiful tent camp
landscape for summer and autumn, with tiny fast mountain rivers that amazed me with their pureness, and a
couple of perfect skiing resorts that do not yield to the Austrian or Canadian ones even a tiny bit. People of Western
Ukraine amazed me as well, especially the elderly very smiley, very positive and very active. The west was
basically the first place to which my friend took me, and it made me fall in love with the Ukraine completely. From
the Carpathians we travelled to Lviv a gorgeous medieval city that is somewhat similar to Prague yet is very
special in its atmosphere: 800 year old castles, wooden churches, gothic catholic temples and palaces, flowers at
every corner and on every window seal, original block pavement streets of the Old City (Stare Misto), and lots of
people in beautiful national clothes vishivanki (embroidered white shirts). Lviv is a magical city and it fueled me
with inspiration to see the rest of the country.
Next my friend took me to Zaporizhzhya an Eastern city with an impossible to pronounce name and two thousand
years of history. The city is built on two banks of the River Dnipro, and has an island in the middle Khortitsa the
biggest river island in the world. The place is very spiritual no wonder that so many centuries ago the wild tribes
of skiffs and sarmates, and later the cossaks (famous Ukrainian soldiers of 1400-1600s, that had a long moustache,
a long forelock and wore wide red trousers), built their fortifications on the Khortitsa Island. The City itself seemed
to me to be still very Soviet-like in its spirit and atmosphere, so it was interesting for me to take photos of their

famous dam with the huge Lenin statue pointing at it, and the factories that were once the pride of the USSR and,
amazingly, still successfully function for export purposes nowadays.
Our next stop was Crimea a big heart-shaped peninsula that is washed by two seas the Black Sea and the Azov
Sea (the shallowest in the world, by the way), has beautiful mountains, fantastic crystal caves and scenic deep
lakes. Its a very picturesque place so green, so virginal, so unlike anything I have seen before. The pictures I took
at the Crimea I consider to be one of the best series in my photo collection. We also attended a wine festival in
Koktebel, where they make pretty good local wine, visited Askania Nova a marvelous biosphere reserve sanctuary
established in the nineteenth century. A great chance to get a scope of what the countrys nature was like some
twelve hundred years ago, still very much unpopulated and virginal.
There was one thought that didnt leave my mind, even for a second, during the whole time I spent in Ukraine: I
cannot believe that this country and its fantastic nature, history and culture are so unknown to the rest of the
world! Ukraine was a true discovery for me, and one of those times when your expectations are nothing like what
you really see. I have visited this country two more times over the past three years, and every time my impression
got fuller and fuller. If you should ask me what place I can recommend to those avid and blas travellers who seem
to have seen it all, Id say without a second of hesitation: Go to Ukraine! Whatever you will expect this will still
amaze and astonish you!

A Trip to the End of the World

Rating: 5.0

It was supposed to be another boring winter. Every year, as soon as that particularly thick fog and white crisp snow
covered the village of Ramsj, its three hundred inhabitants would start spending all their free time indoors, either
sleeping or trying to wake up. This is what people mostly did in winter in Ramsj a small Swedish village located
right in the middle of nowhere, on the shores of a beautiful lake that, unlike the inhabitants of Ramsj, never froze
even during the most severe winter seasons. Winter usually started very early in this part of the country, and it
meant that all life would hibernate almost completely for eight or nine months to come. Everyone was used to this
kind of weather here. Everyone but Lara. She came to Ramsj only three years ago, and she still hasnt forgotten
what life was like outside this sleepy hollow den.
Lara came to Ramsj to work at the local vineyard. She loved the work here. She just wasnt into the whole Swedish
moody depressive climate and lifestyle. A native of Munich, Lara was used to having an active social life, a hundred
and one acquaintances, and a wide variety of places to go out to in the evenings. Well, one thing she didnt have
problems with here was getting acquainted. It seemed that two months after Lara had arrived in the village,
everyone already knew her, and some four months later she already knew everyone here as well. Everyone being
the three hundred and two inhabitants of Ramsj, most of whom work in the vineyards or the local forestry.
Laras first two winters in Ramsj were scarily quiet and stress-free. It was not that she didnt expect the place to be
that way, but it seemed that she already had enough of the quietness and relaxation to start finding it rather
depressive. She craved for sunny days, bright blue skies and smiley faces. That is why Lara long ago decided that
this winter would be different from the previous two that she had spent here. Lara decided it actually wouldnt hurt
to travel around a little, the only problem being that she didnt know what was there to see in wintery Sweden. But
then it suddenly occurred to her that she was closer than ever to the fairy tale land that every child from anywhere
in the world knows about the Lapland. It was right there, a four-hour trip in her SUV and then another hour and a
half on the local transport that looked like a combination of a caterpillar tractor and a land battleship. But, as scary
as it looked, it was the only way to travel around in the severe weather of the Scandinavian mountains.
When Lara finally got to the heart of Finnish Korvatunturi the residence of Santa Claus she was already tired and
sleepy. It was probably due to the Swedish careful and deliberate lifestyle. But, as soon as she came closer to the
small village house that looked like a postcard picture, three cute little elves dressed all in green and with little bells
sewed to their cones, approached her. Two of them took Lara by each side and the third one pointed at the house,

speaking some weird language and talking in a very weird childish voice, half-laughing and half- whispering. That is
just as much as it took for Lara to start feeling like she was part of the fairy tale. Being a clear-eyed 27-year-old
woman, she suddenly felt like a gullible little girl who woke up in the fairy tale. Lara followed the elves inside the
house, and suddenly felt so warm, so comfortable and so at home. The elves pointed at the old brown arm chair
by the fireplace, and ran away, leaving the sounds of their contagious joyful laughter ringing in Laras ears. The girl
hopped on the arm chair, tucked her legs underneath herself and stretched her arms towards the warm vibes of the
fire. She didnt even notice when an old man with a big white beard, dressed all in red, quietly approached her by
the side and gently put his right arm on her shoulder.Well, hello there, dear. Youve grown up so much since your
last visit, my girl.

The Climb
I have this fear. It causes my legs to shake. I break
out in a cold sweat. I start jabbering to anyone who is
nearby. As thoughts of certain death run through my
mind, the world appears a precious, treasured place. I
imagine my own funeral, then shrink back at the
implications of where my thoughts are taking me. My
stomach feels strange. My palms are clammy.
I am terrified of heights.
Of course, its not really a fear of being in a high
place. Rather, it is the view of a long way to fall, of
rocks far below me and no firm wall between me and
the edge. My sense of security is screamingly absent.
There are no guardrails, flimsy though I picture them, or
other safety devices. I can rely only on my own
surefootednessor lack thereof.
Despite my fear, two summers ago I somehow
found myself climbing to a high place, while quaking
inside and out. Most of our high school had come along
on a day trip to the Boquern, a gorgeous, lush spot in
the foothills of Peru. Its prime attraction is the main

waterfall, about 100 feet high, that thunders into a

crystal clear pool feeding the Aguaytia River. All around
the pool and on down to the rushing river are boulders
large and small. The beach is strewn with rocks. On
both sides of the fall, the jungle stretches to meet it,
rising parallel to it on a gentler slope.
After eating our sack lunches within sight and
sound of the fall, many of us wanted to make the climb
to an area above it. We knew others had done so on
previous trips. A few guys went first to make sure they
were on the right path. But after they left, my group of
seven decided to go ahead without waiting for them to
return. I suspected we were going the wrong way, but I
kept silent, figuring that the others knew better. We
went along the base of the hill until we reached the
climb. It stopped me in my tracks.
The climb ascended steeply above us. Along the
right edge the jungle hugged the rocks; passage
through its trees did not look feasible. The majority of
my view was filled with rocks. Looming high to the sky,
the boulders rose in a tiered manner. Peering back
down toward the river, I saw a steep slope of rocks all
the way to the water. All I could think about was how far
it would be to fall.
My tense thoughts were interrupted by the
realization that my friends were already beginning to
climb! My anxiety increased as I watched them.

Do I turn back? My whole being shouted, Yes! Will

I regret it later? I really want to get to the top, but
I voiced my uncertainties to my friends. They
dismissed my fears and encouraged me to stick it out.
Questioning my own sanity, I decided at least to
attempt the climb.
I chose a path that seemed easiest. My friend Tom
was ahead of me. Then, suddenly, he slipped and slid
backward about 10 feet! I watched, paralyzed, until he
stopped himself and assured us he was all right. My
heart was hammering.
Now those who had tried the other way came back;
it had not worked. Consoling myself that my friend Seth
would be right behind me, I shakily began the ascent.
The path led up a narrow area between boulders. In
it, we reached a place where there just were no good
handholds. Seth braced my foot, and those above sent
down words of encouragement. I was soon past the
first challenge safely, but not feeling much better about
the rest of the climb.
The difficulties only increased from that point on,
with scary spot after scary spot. Though I knew I should
not look down, I could not always ignore the long drop
to the boulders below. My breathing sped up, but my
heart pounded even faster, growing loud in my ears.

My friends kept right on climbing. But they did not

forget me. Someone was always behind me to help
hold my feet steady when necessary, and someone
else was always ahead to offer a hand up. I trusted
them more than myself; I knew my feet could easily
slip. With friends supporting me by words and actions, I
slowly gained ground.
Finally we came to the worst section yet. To me the
slope looked very close to vertical. The slight
handholds were few and far between. Being short, I
knew the stretches would be difficult enough in normal
conditions. In my current panic, it would be much
worse. The alternative was to go back down. Which
was more difficult? I didn't want to go either way, but
obviously I had to go somewhere.
The trouble was, we were not getting any nearer to
the falls. By now, we realized that this route was not the
way most frequented! But knowing this did not get me
any closer to safety.
Since getting up this next part was next to
impossible, and waiting for a rescue helicopter was not
an option, with fear and trembling I decided to go down,
but not by myself. Melody agreed to go with me,
earning my eternal gratitude. She paused to pray for
safety; I did not trust my voice enough to pray aloud.
Now, with our backs to the rocks, the drop was
continually in our line of vision. It seemed even steeper

than before. The song Angels Watching Over Me ran

through my head as we began, Melody going first. I
kept up a steady stream of chatter, my trembling voice
betraying my fear.
One of the first tough places we came to gave us
trouble. Cautiously stretching one foot down, Melody
could not reach the bottom of the boulder. A slip would
mean an extremely long drop. So we tried a different
route where a fall would be shorter. It was somewhat
wet and would entail a short slide to reach the bottom.
Melody made it safely. I hesitated, unsure of my
footing, and picturing myself at the bottom of the cliff,
bones broken and pain wracking my body, if I still lived.
You can do it! I'm right here, Melody called. She
waited patiently, not pressuring me to hurry.
Inching carefully to the edge, I could see in the
corner of my eye the boulders and river far below. As I
started down the rock, my foot slipped! My heart
jumped into my throat as the terror I had held just under
the surface swept over me.
Im gonna fall! I inwardly shrieked.
It had been only a small slip, however; I was not in
midair! I took a few calming breaths, and my heart
repositioned itself where it belonged.

With no further mishaps, we came eventually to the

last troublesome spot, the stretch between two
boulders that had given me problems on the way up.
Thankfully, the rest of our friends had given up climbing
to the top and had now caught up to us. There were
two possible descents from here. One way included a
short jump down. I decided to check out the other way.
Seth was working his way down this second route
when he fell a few feet and bruised himself! I again
looked over the first option.
Do I want to jump? Theres a big drop if I jump
wrong or dont stop on the ledge! But the other way!
I knew if I was to get down, it would have to be
Seths way. He was willing to help me however he
could. I inspected the path he had taken. There was
some low vegetation, matted down and sloping slightly
toward the edge. Then came a drop down to a narrow
inlet between rocks. That was not so bad. The hitch lay
in the fact that there was no handholds or footholds,
and my short legs would not reach to the rocks.
Uh, I dont know about this. I dont like the looks of
it! I said, my voice quavering.
You can make it, Amy! I'm right here. I wont let you
fall, Seth promised.
Slowly, painstakingly, I backed over the vegetation.

Im coming down, I warned, my voice unsteady.

Im ready, answered Seth. I got you.
His assurances gave me the strength to go on. I
trusted him implicitly. Flattening myself onto my belly, I
edged my feet into midair. Seth held them tightly and
slowly lowered me, guiding my feel to a firm place as I
let my body slide over the leaves, twigs, and rock.
When my feet made contact with the solid rock, I
heaved a huge sigh of relief. I could feel the fear
draining out of me.
My arms and legs were scratched up; I was dirty
and sweaty. But none of it mattered. I was at the
bottom!
Yaaaaaaahhhh! I yelled. I never felt so alive, and
so thankful for that life.
The Boy with John Travolta Blue Eyes
High school alone is the hardest part of any
teenagers life, but when it gets mixed in with an
awkward adolescents idea of liking someone, life turns
into a whirlwind emotional adventure. Like my plate
wasnt overflowing already with a chemistry teacher
who called me Crash (a name I acquired after
dropping a beaker during our first lab), a sassy algebra
teacher who said that I didn't have the aptitude for the
subject, or a French teacher who flirted with the class

and laughed at her own jokes. No, I complicated things

even further because stupid me fell in love.
It all started one morning at my locker as I fumbled
to find the French book I hadnt used in about a month.
In the crowded locker bay someone stepped on my
toes and, consequently, rammed me into the absolute
zenith of high school popularity standing to my right. I
accidentally hit Miss Popularity while she attempted to
apply lipstick. In the reflection of the three mirrors that
hung in her locker, I saw a red smear across her acnefree, rouged cheek. I also saw the image of the person
responsible for this collision. When I turned to get a
better glimpse, there he was.
Lockers may have slammed, Miss Popularity may
have pouted, but everything stopped for me. All I saw
was him. It felt like someone had reached down my
throat and, with strong fingers, drew my breath and
stomach from my trembling body. His sapphire eyes
drilled deep into my heart, and every nuance of his face
became eternally etched into my mind. The tall, thin
body stood out like a glistening jewel among the dull
coal of the locker bay. Sensing my eyes burning deep
into him, he turned around and said, Ah, sorry. My
bad. The words were spoken by a voice that could talk
a man down from a ledge. I could tell by the tone and
inflection that he felt deep remorse in his soul for
displacing my bodyor maybe the burrito he had at
lunch didnt agree with him, Im not really sure. From

that moment on, during every free second, I suddenly

became busy thinking about him. Wondering about this
boy made sleepless nights overflow with sweet images.
Dull math periods were filled with idol daydreams. I
became obsessed with this senior with John Travolta
blue eyes.
I wasnt the only one who decided that having Blue
Eyes as a boyfriend was a good idea. Miss Popularity
decided that he, out of all the salivating dogs begging,
whimpering, pawing for her attention, would be the
perfect playful puppy. Worse yet, I had to witness her
primitive flirting ritual in the lunchroom.
She would strut toward the soda machine, swaying
her hips from side to side, in an effort to catch one of
his incandescent blue eyes. She was beautiful and she
knew it. This was when it really started to get goodfor
him I mean. Purposely, her skirt inched up revealing
her fleshy thigh as she struggled to remove a quarter
nestled in her warm pocket. Blue Eyes was rabid with
lust. Foam gushed out of his mouth and fire burned
within his eyes. He was imagining the heat of the metal,
so close to her body, then falling from her manicured
hand to the floor. As he picked the coin up, those blue
eyes examined every centimeter of her shapely legs.
He was so close he could smell the sweetness of her
perfume mixed with laundry detergent and the playful
scent of teenage girl.

The whole scene caused a churning in my stomach,

which turned to a hopeless nausea. The colorful world
of love turned into a black, grey pit. Every strand of my
hair hung like a 400-pound weight. There was no way I
was going to give in to Miss Popularity, who just
happened to be my best friend. Yes, yes, I was the
goofy sidekick. She could turn the world on with her
smile, and I couldnt turn the world on with anything.
Through friends, acquaintances, and the grueling
detailed accounts from Miss Popularity, I slowly gained
more knowledge about my new love.
Oh, Lisa, he smells so good!
Smile. Yeah, Miss Popularity, I bet anything with a
pulse smells good to you.
And hes so sweet!
Bigger smile. Oh, and why is he so sweet? Maybe
its that shapely body of yours.
But I might have to work on his style a bit. Then
hell be really hot!
Smile. Nod. Then hell be hot!? If the kid got any
hotter he'd be illegal in 37 states and 2 territories! This
boy should not be allowed to roam around in public.
All the basicsname, address, and hobbies
slowly unfolded, and an elaborate plan of action for an

encounter started to form in my mind. But before it had

a chance to fully develop, I had a surprise Blue Eyes
siting. He came to my photography class during one of
his study halls (by this time I knew his schedule) to do
extra work on one of his pictures. My mind raced; my
hands shook. Should I act like I like him? Should I not
notice him? Should I talk to him?
Talk to him. Hes your best friends boyfriend. Talk
to him! Oh, how can I look at his cherubic face when I
know he'll be looking back at mine? I dont believe it.
Hes got to be kidding. I dont believe hes wearing that
shirt. He looks so good in that shirt. How can I talk to
someone who looks that good in a shirt? That cotton
clings to just the right places, and his jeans are
sculpted to enhance and accentuate that squeezably
soft
So distracted by the mental roller coaster I was on, I
couldnt speak when he said, Phat print.
Left with my eyes agog, I missed my one
opportunity to speak with that walking, talking piece of
artwork. Days dragged on and so did Miss Popularitys
relationship with Blue Eyes. He would nip at her heels
as they walked down the hall. They would cuddle in
class, and she would even feed him at lunch! Whatever
the phoniest couple thing that youve seen, they did it.
Im surprised that people werent driven to violent

nausea and fits of puking when they saw them

together.
But like most good things, their relationship had to
come to an unfortunate end. After Blue Eyes wasnt
such a new puppy for Miss Popularity, their relationship
deteriorated. From what I gathered after late night
confessionals with Miss Popularity, he wasnt learning
any new tricks.
Later that year I went to his graduation, and with the
toss of his cap and the flip of his tassel, a sense of
defeat and despair filled my body.
Good-bye. Jesus Mary Joseph, you are such an
idiot. You obsessed over him for almost a year! Do you
realize you never spoke one word to him? Not a single
syllable. Yes, but if you had he would have laughed at
you and your silly, girlish crush. You didnt deserve him
in the first place.
Oh, but I really liked him. I liked him so much, and
he didnt even know I was alive!
Get over it. Half the school doesnt even know
youre alive.
I watched his blue Honda Civic race away. With the
peel of the tires and the smell of burning rubber, I knew
he had gone forever.

Then the pain lifted from my body, like a heavy

weight, and was replaced by a feeling of
accomplishment and relief. I made it through the
grueling torture of a high school crush and lived to tell
about it. There existed no class project hard enough or
cafeteria food indigestible enough to even compare.
Narrative Essay

Attitude Is Everything
Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When
someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"
He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The
reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad
day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.
Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive
person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 'Jerry, you have two
choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood.
Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.
Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side
of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk,
every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose
to be in a good or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said.
Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I
made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never
supposed to do in the restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three
armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combinations. The robbers
panicked and shot him.
Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of
intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six
months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my

scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.
"The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the
floor, I remembered I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into
the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I
read, 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I
said. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over
their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."
Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we
have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Narrative Essay
Road tripping with friends is supposed to be fun and exciting. It gives me an opportunity to jump in the car and
explore somewhere or something that I have never experienced. My 2003 trip to Chicago was both nerve wrecking
and exciting at the same time because I got to be in certain situations that I have never been in before.
I remember the first time I went to Chicago, my then-boyfriend and I were in rush hour traffic. My heart was
thumping in my chest so fast because I have never seen traffic like that before in my life. Cars were bumper to
bumper, yet people were still trying to fit their vehicle in spaces no bigger than a toothpick. I decided right then and
there that these folks were crazy drivers, and I did not want any part of it. I remember thinking to myself how
delighted I was that I was the passenger and not the driver.
We had stopped off at McDonald's because I had to really use the bathroom. I was relieved when I reached my
destination. I turned the handle to the bathroom, but the door was locked. I sat back down for a while, and went back
to the lady's room. I attempted this feat five times. My ex just sat there looking at me stupid. He said, " They keep the
door locked at all times because of the crack-heads going in there getting high. You will have to get the lady up front to
unlock it for you". Hello, I am from a small town and the population is 10,000 therefore, I have never encountered
this problem". Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.
Later that night we went walking on the water front. It was windy and somewhat chilly, but the lights reflecting off
the buildings added a little romance to the evening. Maurice showed me Sears Tower, and I was so excited because
the building was so tall. I felt like my neck was going to break looking up at it. I am a pretty tall woman, but compared
to that building I felt 5 inches tall. Then we drove by China Town, I was really amazed at how beautiful it was. The
buildings had signs on them written in Chinese language. Everything was lit up like a Christmas tree. It reminded me
of some Hollywood movie up close and personal.
In essence, the trip to Chicago was definitely unforgettable, but I am glad that I took it. I had experienced things that
I may not have ever been able to experience again. I saw a lot of wonderful and beautiful scenery. Most importantly, I
learned that any of my future trips will be made without me behind the wheel. Being a passenger can be stressful
enough at times.

"The Birth of My Baby Brother, Joe"

I was very happy when my baby brother, Joe, was born. It was exciting. I will never forget it. It happened last year, on June
29. My mom gave birth to him, and I finally got to have a little brother. His birth day is very special to me.
The day started like any other normal day. I woke up. I think I ate pop tarts for breakfast. I wore a green shirt with a tractor
on it. My mom's due date wasn't until July 2nd, so I didn't think he was going to be born that day. I figured it would just be
like any other day.
I got on the bus and went to school. I don't remember much of what I learned that day. Before it was time to leave at the end
of the day, Aunt Chloe came to my class and got me out of class early. She told me that my mom was at the hospital! My baby
brother was going to be born soon! She said she was going to take me to the hospital . I missed soccer practice.
Aunt Chloe drove me to the hospital. He car smelled like dirty clothes. I got to ride the elevator up to my moms room. She
told me that my baby brother would be here before the end of the day. I was so excited! She said that she was in labor and
was having contractions. She said it painful and that Aunt Chloe and Gramma would take care of me while he was being
born. She said she needed Daddy to be with her. She told me she loved me. I asked her how long it would be and she said "I
don't know, but hopefully soon." My dad told me to be good for Aunt Chloe, and not cause any problems.
So, Aunt Chloe took me home. She got me dinner at Burger King. I think I got chicken nuggets. My mom called me after that,
and said "Guess what! Joe is going to be born, but I'm going to have a c-section. She told me that a c-section is a surgery to
get the baby out." I said, "Okay, when can I meet him?" She said, "Hopefully soon!"
So, the next thing I new, Aunt Chloe and I were on the way to the hospital, even though it was almost my bed time. I got to
see my baby brother through the glass. I couldn't see my mom because my dad said that she was in recovery. After a little bit,
my mom came in a wheelchair, and she held my baby brother Joe.
I got to see him for the first time! He was so tiny! I didn't know that babies came that small. He had a lot of dark, black hair.
It was as dark as a tree stump. He was sleeping. We went to the hospital room, and later, my dad said I could hold him if I
was really still. I sat on the couch with a pillow, and my dad sat next to me and let me hold him. He didn't cry at all. He just
slept.
A few days later, my mom and Joe got to come home. It was so nice to finally have a little brother, even if he can't play with
me yet. He is now ten months old. He does cry sometime, but mostly he is a good little boy. He likes it when I make funny
faces and when I blow bubbles. I'm so glad he was born.