Personal Narrative-The Woods Of Sorrow
The Woods of Sorrow
I looked behind a patch of trees. Still no sign of our campground. I considered myself lucky that the puppet hadn’t found me. I had just taken a walk a minute ago, and I’m already lost. To make my life worse and more unfortunate, a psychopath puppet is loose—killer psychopath puppet.
I saw some tracks on the ground, and something about them worried me a lot. I heard some high-pitched laughter, like the one of a kid, and I remembered what the tracks were: The puppet’s tracks. I ran into that puppet once before. He was freaky. I never should have come here in the first place.
After the laughter died down, I listened a bit but could hear no other noise except for my own frantic breathing. I’m fine for now . . . for now. Those words echoed through my head, …show more content…
I wished I would have been home then. Suddenly, something jumped out from the bushes. “Hey, that was empty!” I accidentally yelled. I turned around and saw the puppet. Silent, little creep, I couldn’t help myself from thinking.
Now, his whole look was in my memory bank. His clown costume, his broken eyes, and tons of other details I’d rather not get into. The only nice thing about him was that he wasn’t not big.
He lunged at me, and I ducked. He got trapped in a bush long enough for me to pick up a large stick. When his head popped out, I started bashing it like crazy, until the head was total nothingness.
Some of his blood got onto my stick, and I threw it away, not wanting to know what would happen if the blood touched me.
The puppet grew suddenly, all except the head, to my size and picked up the stick. I was dodging the attacks, but eventually it cornered me. Just when I thought, This is it, some bullet fire rang out, and the puppet fell to the ground, dead.
I looked up and saw one of my fellow campers with a rescue squad. “Piece-of-junk haywire animatronic,” he muttered. And he brought me back to the camp, where he explained
I looked behind a patch of trees. Still no sign of our campground. I considered myself lucky that the puppet hadn’t found me. I had just taken a walk a minute ago, and I’m already lost. To make my life worse and more unfortunate, a psychopath puppet is loose—killer psychopath puppet.
I saw some tracks on the ground, and something about them worried me a lot. I heard some high-pitched laughter, like the one of a kid, and I remembered what the tracks were: The puppet’s tracks. I ran into that puppet once before. He was freaky. I never should have come here in the first place.
After the laughter died down, I listened a bit but could hear no other noise except for my own frantic breathing. I’m fine for now . . . for now. Those words echoed through my head, …show more content…
I wished I would have been home then. Suddenly, something jumped out from the bushes. “Hey, that was empty!” I accidentally yelled. I turned around and saw the puppet. Silent, little creep, I couldn’t help myself from thinking.
Now, his whole look was in my memory bank. His clown costume, his broken eyes, and tons of other details I’d rather not get into. The only nice thing about him was that he wasn’t not big.
He lunged at me, and I ducked. He got trapped in a bush long enough for me to pick up a large stick. When his head popped out, I started bashing it like crazy, until the head was total nothingness.
Some of his blood got onto my stick, and I threw it away, not wanting to know what would happen if the blood touched me.
The puppet grew suddenly, all except the head, to my size and picked up the stick. I was dodging the attacks, but eventually it cornered me. Just when I thought, This is it, some bullet fire rang out, and the puppet fell to the ground, dead.
I looked up and saw one of my fellow campers with a rescue squad. “Piece-of-junk haywire animatronic,” he muttered. And he brought me back to the camp, where he explained