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Personal Narrative Essay: Death Of A Handgun

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Personal Narrative Essay: Death Of A Handgun
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I reach out into the hall and grab the belt, pull it inside the bathroom and look at my prize.I have a walkie talkie,a taser,lots and lots of bullets,and a handheld gun.I stop when my gaze finds the gun I slowly and very carefully pull on the pocket strap and find the gun black with a gold handle, along with red lines making beautiful markings across the burning gold. I don’t understand why a handgun would have such art, but I don’t have much time to think about it.The fire of a different gun brings me back to reality and I slip the belt on with a quick swipe of my hand.
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