Personal Narrative: Blood
Blood.
All I could remember about that incident was blood, death, and the screams; the thick metallic scent that drifted through my nose and down the streets and the death of so many people. The screams of the victims that were pleading to spare their lives, but the merciless killer shortens one life at a time-slowly and painfully. It only took one shot. One movement of a finger could kill you. I had experienced that. The sight of someone dressed in black-a man, the smell of the metal gunpowder, the stench of coppery blood, the sight of blood splattered all over my chest, legs and arms.
But the blood wasn’t mine. I watched in shock as my twin brother collapsed on to the ground in front of me, his thick, black hair hoping to hide all the blood
All I could remember about that incident was blood, death, and the screams; the thick metallic scent that drifted through my nose and down the streets and the death of so many people. The screams of the victims that were pleading to spare their lives, but the merciless killer shortens one life at a time-slowly and painfully. It only took one shot. One movement of a finger could kill you. I had experienced that. The sight of someone dressed in black-a man, the smell of the metal gunpowder, the stench of coppery blood, the sight of blood splattered all over my chest, legs and arms.
But the blood wasn’t mine. I watched in shock as my twin brother collapsed on to the ground in front of me, his thick, black hair hoping to hide all the blood