Wilmington Friends Meeting Narrative

As it approaches, as if it were going downhill, I brace my arms for the impact and my impeding death. At the last second, the truck vanishing and through a mirage comes a figure that pushes me into the hole. The fall wasn’t long, but the landing was rough. I could feel the pain of something jagged as well as hear the crunch of bones and metal. As I try to recover from my fall, I look to my right and see Alex’s class ring on the hand of a detached limb.

My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that red ribbons began to flow from the gashes. “What the – Jay, let’s scram!” Footsteps thundered upon the floorboard as the intruders made their escape. I doubled over, freeing a heavy breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

When he was on his way to pick up the boys he became distracted and lost focus of where and how fast he was driving. All of a sudden he was headed head long into oncoming traffic so he jerked his wheel to the right. When he did that he avoided the oncoming traffic, but sent himself flying off of the road into a tree. Junior was okay, but the car definitely was not. He just knew his father was going to be furious with him, but how was not sure if he cared anymore.

On October 8th an early afternoon my mother and I rode a train to head downtown to visit my father at work. He worked so much the only time I see him was in the morning and at bedtime. We pasted through most of the wooden brown town. Every time I go outside I see a million shades of brown. We reach busy and crammed downtown.

The hammer came back up, and down again. Eyelids just about to close the distance, a one-thousand ton weight on his shoulders, every single drag of the foot through the snow bringing him closer and closer to collapse. His eyes closed, the amount of ground he was covering shortening as the agonizing seconds went on. Panic shot through his mind as he lulled; what if there was somebody nearby? He looked from right to left, a long, wide, twitching gaze on every drift.

“Dad where are you?” she said. She turned on the flashlight and entered the woods. She was searching around until she found the bodies half buried, blood everywhere. “Dad? John?”

Finally the moving truck came to a screeching stop. As Sterling exited the family car he looked so shocked at his new neighborhood it was like he had been dropped off in a haunted town. As the front door opened, it let out a loud squeak, and all that came to Sterling’s mind was haunted house. “Click” turned on the lights and slowly a huge smile formed on Sterling’s face” Pretty nice” he thought to himself. As Sterling ascended the stairs in leaps and bounds, he couldn’t wait to see what his room looked like.

My eyes suddenly protruded outwards as they locked onto a wide metal door – with rust covering its burnished doorknob. I assumed that this must’ve been the room for the servants. I reached for the corroded doorknob, only to tragically realise that it wasn’t turning. I felt the vigorous blood being pumped into my brain, as my veins struggled to remain intact.

Jackson’s heart sped as he ran towards his home. He could hear the pumping of his heart and the sound of his feet hitting the concrete. He turned onto his street and immediately slowed down, the door to his house sat wide open. The door let out a creak as his fingers grazed against the dark oak. In the living room, a light haired man sat facing the door.

They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble

5 years ago, one fresh midnight, arrived to a new place in Atlanta Georgia that our life forever changed. There were plenty of cars, trees, and building. It is fairly cold and the wind is blowing like the tree arms dance. Many lights that can be seen shine through the windows of buildings at night time. It quiet outside.

“At around the point where the Mace Boulevard exit sign is posted”, Dr. Nolan-Pryor was looking to her left, when suddenly she heard “the sound of a crash” coming from a location ahead of Dr. Nolan-Pryor’s car and to her right.

He told us that Dallas had suffered a stroke and that his brain was failing. He said that Dallas wasn’t going to be able to survive much longer, as for he has already lost his vision. We each began to say our goodbyes to Dallas. For a moment, he stopped crying and was silent, as if he was listening to us. That was the first time I had ever seen my dad

I watched from the car as the rusty looking green tractor had neared my household, slowly inching it’s way forward. The thing hardly looked like it could do any damage. I was immediately proven wrong as the beast let down its massive claw that creaked and squeaked as it lowered and sped up, automatically plowing through the house as though it had never been there in the first place. from the back of my father 's truck, my stomach twisted and

My leaden arm reaches for the door handle, "Right here 's fine, man," I falter. Not waiting for the cab to stop, I burst through the passenger door. Frantically, I sprinted on the air two inches above the asphalt. Breakneck. Thunderclap.