Personal Narrative Of My Writing

I was running too hard to scream, yell, or cry. I glanced back apprehensively only to see the creature persistently gaining on me. Gasping, I drove myself harder than I thought was possible. Every muscle in my body was burning; my bones ached with every step, but I forced myself forward. Tripping, I tumbled to the ground, splitting open my knee, and slicing the right side of my face. Tears were making their way down my cheek, I felt the pain shoot through my body. I forced myself to stand and run; my life depended on it. Spinning on my heel, I glanced over my shoulder, only to see the creature looming dangerously close. Crying harder now, I pushed myself into a sprint. My knee burned and warm blood oozed down my cheek. I began to panic and
Walking over to my desk, I sat down with some charcoal pencils and a pad of paper. Taking a deep breath, I opened the box. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I only saw an ordinary pack of crayons. Shrugging off my discomfort, I opened the pack and started drawing a new project, that I had been thinking about. I sketched out the body form and let my pencil take over. After about an hour, I had finished all that I could do with my pencil, so I decided to give the crayons a try. Disregarding the message on the box, I colored in my picture taking time to imprint every line. Smiling with pride, I lifted my newest drawing of a miniature man struggling to get away from the grasp of a giant hand. Laughing, I put my hand over the drawing. As I did this the strangest thing happened, the little man came to
I knocked a chair over in the process. The little man looked up at me, stretched his little legs, and yawned as he readjusted his little coat. Staring with interest at this little man, I put him on my bed and uneasily pranced over to my phone to call Jamie. “What is it?” I dragged her through the house, and into my room, careful to shut the door behind me. I pointed at the little man on my bed. “Look! I know it sounds crazy, but I just made him with these crayons!” I ran over to my bed, and grabbed the crayons to show Jamie. She laughed at me, with such intensity I wasn’t sure what to do or say. “Are you pranking me? What little man are you talking about, and there is no such thing as magical crayons!” I stared in horror at Jamie, “Wait, you can’t see him?” “No, there isn’t anything to see.” She told me. She left, still chuckling as I slammed my door and stomped over to my art kit. I began to self consciously sketch the monster from my dream. That will show her not to laugh at me, I thought to myself as I finished the creature on an easel. I drug the creature out of the paper, as I had done before, and joyfully looked over my creation. It was an exact image of my nightmare. I smiled malevolently, as I thought of what Jamie would do when she saw this. Suddenly, my monster drew out a steel throwing knife. With incredible speed, threw it barely missing my head. Giving me one of the most evil grins I had ever seen, it started to glide across the