Abraham Lincoln's Newberry-Personal Narrative

It was a windy, and chilly day in Newberry. The small old town that it was. The air frigid, and the trees bare as though a human is stripped down to its bare bones. The town was desolate except for supper time. The flags on the street would dance back and forth. Some stuck in the iced air. The light poles on the side of the streets would never light. Due to the shattered light bulbs that rarely glowed. For people would drive miles to go to Luke’s. It was basically the only thing open in Newberry. It was a rare diner that it was. It served coffee and donuts all day, and was open all the time. That was unique for Newberry. The town historic yet haloed. The smell of dust, linens, and must lingered in the streets. But the town was desolate, not
a soul was seen. Where are all the townspeople and the children on this weary day after school and work hours? They must be a stray. Or could they be swept into the arms of their own Newberry High School's theatre. Could this be for the one and only showing of the timeline of Abraham Lincoln’s life? Or the whole town could be missing like the lost city of Atlantis? What would it be? Well the whole town had maybe occasionally stumbled across the announcement that this play was going to take place. So maybe they were there. As I went to find out, the sky had turned gloomier than normal, which was unusual because Newberry is always the same. Maybe it was a sign. As I arrived, I went inside the perfectly packed theatre. People were behaved and sitting ready for it to begin. The play began. After the first act everyone stayed still, not moving. They were in amazement like a person would be if they saw a pig flying. But this was different it was like they were in his life. Even the rambunctious children didn’t make a sound, and babies didn’t cry. When they got to the end of the second scene it was time for the assassination part of the story; where John Wilkes Booth assassinated President Lincoln. Everyone knew it was going to happen so they sat up in their squeaky seats and some covered concerned eyes of theirs.
Here at this theatre the cast including me had gone over this many times, making sure it was performed true to history and that it was acceptably accurate.
But right as I; the actor of John Wilkes Booth pointed the .44 caliber pistol at Griffin; the actor of Abraham Lincoln, it went awry. When I pulled the trigger it shot a real bullet into the back of Griffin’s head. Now all you could hear was silence like a dead heartbeat. Silence, the shrieking of the soul. Silence, where you could even hear a pen
drop. Everyone looked at me besides my parents, they had already fainted due to knowing the fact that their son was most likely a murderer.
The audience members all waited for someone to say something, anyone. But no one did. Finally, I ran over to Griffin surrounded by a pool of blood, and put my ear by Griffin’s heart to see if it was beating. It wasn’t, it was dead, he had flatlined, like the rest of the people mentally, who couldn’t believe their eyes. Finally, after it seemed like forever, I looked around and screamed call 911. Elisha the young woman in the front row got out her phone and called. We could all hear her describing what had happened as calmly as she could. Five minutes later we all heard a siren, everyone looked around at each other. Then we heard hurried footsteps in the hall scurrying it was the EMT. But right as they got to the door to the audience they knocked. Everyone in the room sat still. Finally, Lorelai got up to open the door and it was locked, she tried the others and locked, they were all locked. At that very moment she fainted due to knowing that she was a witness of murder, one of the many other’s in the room. We will have to go to court, we will have to make statements, we were witnesses in murder well everyone except me. I was the murderer. Those were the thoughts tingling in everyone's mind at the moment. It was like having a foot asleep; no one could think, no one could talk, they were
stunned. Moments later we heard the EMT’s trying the doors and soon the police knocking and banging on the doors to try to get them opened. By now everyone was tired and annoyed so they dozed off, but I was up and alert. The only thing I could think of was if they couldn’t get in. Could we all die of starvation? Would they think I meant to kill him?
The police were going at the door for it seemed like hours and they still weren’t in, which wasn’t a good sign considering they have probably tried everything they can. For example, trying to break it down, using the jaws of life, etc. By this point an older man has had a heart attack, and is now unconscious and six people have fainted and are in shock. The healthy people were assisting them or just plain old staring into space. Oh, and well Griffin’s still lying there dead in a puddle of his own blood. It’s a complete madhouse, but a silent one. By now its hour four everyone is beyond starving and all phones are dead. We can’t hear the screaming and yelling of the officers and firefighters due to the soundproof doors. All we hear is a jumbled mess of words. When were we going to get out, screw the injured, I got a hockey game on. But who actually put the bullet in the gun, has that been solved?
Previous to the play many had been backstage before the show talking to their daughters and sons performing in the play. Many had glanced at the gun to see the replica that it was. But who loaded it with the bullet. That was determined to be found out. Later on, I decided I would detect it by looking at the surveillance camera’s I got off the wall. It was on film so if you studied it carefully, you could see the person and go from there. As soon as I came to the person walking into the frame, I woke up in the same place I was hours ago in the exact same I spot I was when I pulled the trigger. It was a vision into the present, I was Tommy.