Personal Narrative: My Horse

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My electric fence stopped working, for there is no electricity. I found out the evening of the day I woke up. House lights went out, electronics stopped functioning, vehicles wouldn’t start. ‘They had set off an EMP and now the world I know has been cast back into the dark ages.

I decide to go to the next city instead of my hometown. I’ll have a better chance of going unnoticed and a lesser chance of someone recognizing me. It takes me about an hour to get there, alternating between walking and a steady lope. My horse is in good shape and quite healthy for his age of 25. By looking at him, you can’t even tell that he is old or aging.

When I finally arrive, I can see the city has already been hit by catastrophe. It’s worse than it was yesterday …show more content…

His gaze studies me and I hold my breath. Please, don’t see I’m a girl.
“You look a little young, sonny,” he says.
Crap. I should’ve picked a different age.
“I can pull my own weight, sir,” I say.
“I’m sure you will. Do you have any experience with firearms?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve hunted and shot before.”
He nods, still looking me over, “Does you Pops know you’re here?”
“My parents are dead.”
“Ah, so we got a young man, bent on revenge, with nothing to lose.”
The thought of being rejected and turned away troubles me.
“Please let me join, sir. I won’t cause you any trouble, and I assure you I’ll-,”
He holds up his hand.
“What have you got that you can contribute?”
“Uh, I got a couple of good horses, and-,”
“Horses will do. Ross, boy, I expect to see you at the high school football field in the morning. You will be part of my squad. I am your squad leader, Stern’s the name. Will you be there?”
“Yes, sir! I’ll be there!”
“Good, see you then!” he gestures for the next person and I walk …show more content…

When I find a secluded place, I pitch camp, where I plan on staying for the next few weeks or months. When I’m finished, I grab my rifle and slingshot and head out into the woods, looking for some dinner. I’m a pretty good shot with a slingshot, and it isn’t hard to shoot. Plus, I can hunt without alerting anyone of my presence, whereas my rifle would let people know that I am here. It doesn’t take me long to find a pheasant that I killed silently with a stone. After starting a fire and eating the bird, I sit back and listen to the horses grazing around me. It’s nearly nightfall. I have successfully pulled off my disguise. I feel somewhat

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