Personal Narrative

Rory, Rory, Rory,
We’ve all heard the story
She’s more bonkers
Than a honker

That’s what they keep telling me. They think I’m crazy, they think I’m out of my mind.

For 2 years I lived with that chant, it has haunted my thoughts, my every breath.
I’ve given it my best, I try to fit in, I try to be cool, but I never could win. New year, new school, new people. All I need to start over.
Finally the first day of school arrived, and luckily for me, the ceiling starts to crack.
“Don’t panic,” I whisper to myself “It’s-not-real, it’s-not-real.”
My mother yell from the kitchen. “Aurora , is everything ok?”
I slowly walked across the hall, holding on to the beige, smooth wall. The ceiling’s cracks keep getting bigger and bigger. Mini earthquakes

I rapidly shifted towards the front door. “Let’s go.” I mumbled.
Around this time of year the landscape of New York is painted with red and orange foliage. You can feel the wind chills. Sometime later the yellow school bus rolls by. Illaria and I climbed up the stairs and sit in the third to last seat. The bus moved on through the streets to a different neighborhood. The bus pulled up at Cape Coral Middle School. Illaria was in 8th grade and I in 7th grade. Algebra was the first class of the day.The halls buzz with excitement as kids hurry to their lockers, chatting.
“Come in Aurora,” Mr.Howard welcomes me “your seat will be next to...Joslyn. Joslyn please raise your hand.” Once I looked up I recognized the girl from my bus. She had black ebony hair, and fair skin. It was her eyes more than anything, every shade of pale and golden brown spreading out to a darker brown border. The daylight seeped through the cracks of the curtains as it was caught in her eyes. My feet slowly started to shuffle in her direction “Hello Aurora,” she says cheerfully, “nice to meet

Suddenly a creature appeared in the corner of the class. Really, it was more of a shadow. Wisps of darkness lingered near it. The look in its eyes, it was like nothing was there to behold. An endless depth of ink, sorrow, pain, and despair. Neither the whites of its eyes nor the vessels that flowed through them could be seen. They were depths of Tartarus just waiting for me to jump in. Holding a thousand souls yet there were none to be seen. I blinked, attempting to erase it, but nothing changed. Sliding across the floor went my seat as I sprang up. Every living soul in the room stared in shock at my trembling