Personal Narrative Analysis

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We all woke up that saturday morning hearing a cacophonous cry of sorrow, I closed my eyes in terror of what might have happened. As I opened my eyes I see that Anne Marie was crying on her stand on top of the shelf, looking down at Adam, who was on the floor with his arms and legs chewed off by that mean dog, whom they call buster. I thought this was gonna be the last I saw him. I also remember when we all met him so clearly. It was for Marilyn’s 8th birthday and her favorite things were army men, and princesses. It was one of the best phases that she went through while she was growing up, at least that I could remember. I’ve watched her grow up, because I grew up with her. I am Stuffie, a little old penguin that Marilyn got when she was

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