Ghost Guard Narrative Essay

It was a nice sunny October day. I had no idea what would happen that day. I was watching the front doors of the Parliament Building with my fellow guard. We were making sure that people that could do bad things couldn’t get inside. I failed badly. I heard a loud gunshot and I suddenly had a slight headache and then was out forever. “HEY! HE WAS SHOT! HELP! HELP!” my partner shouted. “WHAT HAPPENED?” another guard yelled.
I couldn’t see over everyone so I just waited for everyone to move out of the way. My spirit had heard that a guard had gotten killed by the maniac who was still roaming the building. I had no idea that that guard was me.
Then I had seen that the killer was found and shot 31 times. “THERE HE IS! GET HIM!” a police officer shouted. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The paramedics walked out of the building with a man on a stretcher that looked just like me and the killer behind him. It was at that moment that I had put the puzzle pieces together that I was the guard that had been shot. I felt a push on my chest, some how. 1 word, CPR. I left the world young and healthy. There was no reason for me to die. At my funeral, my security friends gave me a spot in the building for my body. I was really annoyed that the killer had hurt me. I knew exactly who the killer was. He was a man Michael Zehaf-Bibeau. He was homeless and he was on drugs. His dad was a Libyan- Canadian Father and his mother was a freak. I always passed him when I was on my way to the Parliament Building. When I saw him near the building, I knew he was up to something because I heard him say something about being so angry that he wanted to shoot something and he hated the Parliament Building because his brother was a soldier and he was killed in the army and he wasn’t buried