I have always been a pretty quiet kid. My mom says I didn’t start talking until I was four, when one day I just blurted out an entire sentence. “Joe, You’re a man of few words,” she’d always say to me. I generally thought of myself as a good kid. I got along with others, I never talked back, and I never got in trouble. I have one close friend, his name is Spencer and we’ve pretty much been best friends since he moved in next door to me when we were two. I thought of myself as average. I was the boy the other kids didn’t pay much attention to in school, and don’t get me wrong I was fine with that. Basically nothing remotely out of the ordinary happened to me until I was seven. Thats when it started happening, I never did it on purpose it just …show more content…
I sighed and prepared for dismount. This was my favorite part. I shifted all my body weight forward and launched myself into the air. I had never gotten this high jumping off the swings and began to hopelessly topple to the ground. I flew with the full force of my weight on my right arm and as it made contact with the ground I heard a crack that sounded like a hammer hitting cement. Startled, I stood up to realize I was fine. I didn’t know anything had happened until Spencer let out an agonizing scream. His right arm was broken badly. Jagged bone stuck out from his mangled flesh as thick red blood began pouring on to his Star Wars T-shirt. Spencer had not moved from his spot in the grass. Tears welled up in Spencers eyes and coursed down his cheeks. I had hurt him. It was my …show more content…
That morning I had purchased a gun to fulfill my wish of suicide. I walked to the park to try and talk myself out of what I was about to do but it was no use. I wanted out. I sat down on a bench and felt the tears coming to my eyes. I guess I did want to live just not like this. My eyes burned as hot tears began to spill down my face. I pulled the gun from my pocket and clutched it tightly. I had the very thing that could put me out of my misery in my hands. I stopped crying and my face turned to stone. My fingers curled around the trigger and my shaking hands brought the barrel of the gun to my forehead. The fact that this was the end brought me a sick and twisted feeling of relief. I shut my eyes and pulled the trigger. The boom of the gunshot echoed through the park. I opened my eyes in disbelief realizing the bullet had not injured me. It had happened again. Two joggers heads exploded, not mine. And when the police came they found me kneeling in a pool of blood next to their bodies with the gun in my hands. The trial lasted three years and I was charged with murder, receiving the death sentence. Today is the day of my execution. I know the poison will not kill me, it will kill the
Everyone thinks that war is terrible, but those who experience first hand know what it is truely like. Soldiers know how it feels to have someone’s blood on their hands; they know the feel of holding a gun. Let me tell you how it feels when you have to end the life of a person you don’t know. It feels like you have the weight of the world crashing down on your shoulders. I do not know why you are are reading this and if I will be dead when you do, but I want you to know that it is not a joke. Everything that I mention in this journal happened to me, a simple man from Vermont, named Robert Gray. This is what happened to me in the Civil War.
I was sitting in the old rickety chair that looked as if it had been there for five years. The smell of gunpowder hung in the morning air as I leaned over the rifle rest. My finger wrapped around the trigger as my eye focused through the scope of my grandfather’s Springfield ’03. I took a deep breath and let half out. My finger tightened on the trigger as I awaited the recoil and crack of the gunpowder igniting. Finally, when my finger’s pull was enough to move the trigger, the gun went off. Moments like this are why I love shooting guns.
I am Monise Ghandchi. I am a 17-Year-Old persian girl who holds many personalities. I am energetic, athletic, generous, loud, quiet, innocent, guilty, and etc. However, the youths i grew up with narrowed my presence down to one thought. A single story. Although i’ve wondered, I never actually knew why people at my school wouldn 't interact with me since I’ve always been extremely friendly and generous towards anyone who got to know me. Then again, not many people tried to get to know me. I remember trying so hard to make friends that i have even straight up asked other kids if i could be their best friend. All they would do is give me an odd look and brush it off, ignore me, or shout at me until i went away. Needless to say, my strategies of not
He turned his head away unsuspecting that the time of his demise was near. I raised my gun up, looked through the scope, put the dot on where his vitals should be, and using great effort not to let the shakes take over and alter my shot, I squeezed the trigger. I watched the bright yellow sparks fly from my barrel as the black powder expelled the lump of lead flying straight into his chest. As he staggered away in shock from the events that occurred in what felt like a fraction of a second I kept a close eye on him to know where to retrieve his dead
My adrenaline starts to pump. “Get set!” I am ready for this, I tell myself. “Bang!” the sound of the gun goes off.
"I heard a scream, and I turned and looked over my shoulder," Santos said. "I saw him. I saw him and then I saw the gun. I just fell to the ground. People were running and screaming, but I just fell to the ground."
When it was my turn to shoot I felt the rough texture of my gun as I lifted it up. Looking down the barrell and steadying it out, taking a deep breath in. Then I yelled pull as I observed and followed the orange clay target that flew up in the sky. I squeezed the trigger when I was right in front of the clay target hearing the loud bang go off. As the shot went off the shell had sent many soaring pellets into the air. The target had shattered in a thousand small pieces as though its life had just ended. I lowered the gun and smelled all the smoke that had been released. At that point I realised that ear plugs were as needed as much as oxygen was.
Gunshots flew through the air, it felt like everything was in slow motion to me, I started to feel excitement flood my body, the rush of missing all these bullets made me feel alive, before I knew it I saw the uniforms of our enemies, I raised my gun, looking through my rear sight scope I locked onto on my first victim, he was a young fella, probably 21. I pulled the trigger. Once my gun made its roar I was exposed to everyone’s gunshots, people dropped like feathers, this suddenly became more real to me, I’ve killed more men than I could count, but I couldn’t stop. It was at this point kill or be killed, I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to do honour to my country.
I didn’t really have of enough time to really think about. I’m going for it ,so i get ready for the jump. “Baam!” I failed almost landed face first into the sidewalk but i put my hands out to break my fall and landed wrong on it.
...The lifeguard yelled, "Keep your hands and your feet together." I sat down on the edge at the very top of the slide, he gave me a hard, fast push and I was off.
...ove the ground, I yanked down on the parachute control straps with all of my strength. The parachute got more air, and I slowed, almost to a standstill, and gently touched the ground. As my feet touched the Earth, I went into my roll and then stood back up. No broken bones or bruises.
I flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them." This made me react in a worried way, because I did not know what was going to happen next; however, the worry also heightened my
We about jumped out of our skin. Then, I heard the saddest cry I had ever heard. This many years later and I still can’t stop the cry of the little brown bunny from echoing throughout my head. I heard the gun click back and my Papa say, “We finally got the bastard! We got him!”
I aimed and pulled the trigger. This was a moment that I will never ever forget. It’s a moment that changed the way that I saw hunting forever. When we all woke up the sky was still black as coal. Everyone still had sleep in their eyes.
Screaming kids… we have all had to deal with them in some way or another, whether it was in a restaurant, baby-sitting, or maybe even your own kids. We all know they get annoying after a while. Imagine this, it is 100 degrees outside and eight o’clock in the morning and all of a sudden 20 screaming kids come running towards you and all of them want to jump on you. Sounds like a perfect way to spend the summer, right? Being a tennis instructor for a kid’s camp is not exactly how I picture my summer, but we all have to make sacrifices at some point. The days seemed to drag on, and the weeks seemed even longer. There was a set routine for everyday. We started out at the flagpole, went to ply tennis, and then had lunch and free time.