Personal Narrative: A Walk Through The Woods
March 24, 2011 was a cold, bitter day. I had sat in my chair in front of the glass, slider, door peaking out to the house across the river that had haunted me for years. I could just make out the shadow of the young man who had frightened me throughout my childhood. The house held a cold glaze and it's horrifying characteristics seemed to escape from the windows of the house. I had planned this day over and over for three years. Everyday I'd think, and I'd think, and I'd think, about every movement of my plan to execute the man that took my life. I had boated down the river about a quarter of a mile so I could come to the house through the back of the woods. Gun in hand I stepped out of the boat and began my trek through the woods.
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I let my feet feel the carpeted stairs inch by inch. A found missing flyer was framed on the wall as I paced up and down the hallway my head was out of my mind or was it my mind was out of my head? Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. It never stopped! Where was it! I banged on the wall over, and over, and over, and over again. I ran to the closet door and opened it. There it was; the screaming. There she was; the girl. I couldn't see her, but I could feel the chill. A victim. I closed the door. My eyes crossed and rolled back. A shot of adrenaline shoots up me. The screams poor out of my mouth. I can't control it. I try to close my mouth, but I can't. I start walking down the stairs at a fast pace. Foaming at the mouth I try to get myself together but I can't. Why. Before I know it I'm picking up my gun and walking at an even faster pace out the door, but how. Something's pulling me, but nothing's there. I'm walking faster, and faster, and faster. Past the river, past the boat, into the water, to the shore, through more woods. Walking, and walking, and walking, and walking. I stop. My upper body seems to collapse, but my legs keep me stable. I look around as if I'm checking to make sure no ones there. I take the gun to my head I start to weep and call for help... But I'm already
About …show more content…
I let my feet feel the carpeted stairs inch by inch. A found missing flyer was framed on the wall as I paced up and down the hallway my head was out of my mind or was it my mind was out of my head? Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. It never stopped! Where was it! I banged on the wall over, and over, and over, and over again. I ran to the closet door and opened it. There it was; the screaming. There she was; the girl. I couldn't see her, but I could feel the chill. A victim. I closed the door. My eyes crossed and rolled back. A shot of adrenaline shoots up me. The screams poor out of my mouth. I can't control it. I try to close my mouth, but I can't. I start walking down the stairs at a fast pace. Foaming at the mouth I try to get myself together but I can't. Why. Before I know it I'm picking up my gun and walking at an even faster pace out the door, but how. Something's pulling me, but nothing's there. I'm walking faster, and faster, and faster. Past the river, past the boat, into the water, to the shore, through more woods. Walking, and walking, and walking, and walking. I stop. My upper body seems to collapse, but my legs keep me stable. I look around as if I'm checking to make sure no ones there. I take the gun to my head I start to weep and call for help... But I'm already