"Past tense personal narrative essays with a beginning and a ending" Essays and Research Papers

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    I am a 14 year old chubby boy that goes to Westlake high school. I enjoy devouring large amounts of food and going to the lake in our city. The lake is rumoured to have man eating otters surrounding the premises. I don’t like to go as much because I don’t like those scary stories about the lake and we usually run out of food at the lake. We’re going to visit the lake in a couple of days and I’m scared of the otters at the lake. I’ve been having nightmares about it every night and can’t seem to get

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    Scaredly‚ I get into the cool water and plop on my water skis and swim over the to the rope and handle. My grandpa‚ excited‚ asks me if i’m ready but I don’t reply cause I am too frightened to even move. He assumes I am ready and started the boat up and yelled “Here we go!”. I really wasn’t ready‚ I was sobbing and kept saying “I can’t”. As the boat started accelerating My knees locked up and I didn’t even get out of the water before I let go of the rope. The second attempt wasn’t as bad because

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    A possession is something someone owns that they seek an immense amount of value in. Some possessions mean more to certain people depending on the circumstances surrounding it. It may have been handed down from a family member‚ or it might just be something they bought to remind them of a loved one who passed away. It could be as big a car‚ or even as small as a ring. The main thing about a possession is the meaning it holds within it. One possession that I hold dear to me is my baseball glove.

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    COMING TO AMERICA One year ago‚ my mother was speaking to father about moving to another country. I was thinking that we will just move somewhere near Belarus‚ but one time I asked my mother‚ ’’ Where we will go‚” She answered:’’ Maybe we will move to America’’. I asked‚ “To America? Really? She answered: ‘’ Yes‚ my dear. Yes “ I was so excited about America. I never knew that me and my family will move to America‚ New York City. My parents

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    Life as a refugee Living as a refugee is a life filled with horror and petrifying situations. A life which I don’t think can be defined as a life‚ many haven’t lived in years. All they have done have been trying to survive. And in these three paragraphs you will probably figure out that what their life is like‚ is revolting and gruesome. They live in constant fear of not knowing whether they will survive‚ or die trying. They flee from a life where bombs drop over their heads‚ and men rob their homes

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    Have you ever had a dream that you were running from something terrifying and no matter what you did‚ you couldn’t escape it? The dreams I have experienced about tornadoes have left me with the feelings of desperation‚ because I know that they are a force beyond my control. I could not imagine the immense pain people endure after having their lives destroyed by this vicious catastrophe. In my opinion‚ tornadoes are the most frightening natural disasters for both their mental and physical destruction

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    I have always been raised by a single parent‚ and while I have continuously received the necessities for school and life in general‚ luxurious items were not seen as important as the things we needed. My mom has always taught me and my brother the concept of things I want versus things I need‚ and I have always admired how hard my mother works to provide for me and my brother with love and support for our lives. This scholarship opportunity would greatly take some burden off of my mother. The financial

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    If I had to choose whether to be forever homeless‚ but free to roam the earth as I please or live the life of luxury and be locked in my mansion‚ I would choose to live the life of luxury and be locked in my mansion. First‚ I would have to worry about food or other needs. Homeless people sometimes go days without food or water. I cannot imagine how difficult that would be. If I were homeless‚ I would spend my time roaming the earth for something to eat. I would not have enough money to even travel

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    “We’re going to mine off the navigation path?” I snapped. “Wicked Pass is the closest feeder system to the Wildlands. We don’t want to mix with those types of people‚ they live lawlessly.” “Where is your adventure?” Fisher laughed. “We’re going to make a killing on this belt. If any trouble comes…we will warp and jump back out.” My father started his mining career wildcatting this way‚ but he had never taken me mining in a lower security system before. However‚ I’d actually been in Wicked Pass before

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    Sarah: This bima holds many l memories for me. 30 years ago I was up here with my family having my bat mitzvah. I have many wonderful memories of that event. My father falling asleep during the Friday night service in the front row. My grandfather‚ your papa‚. always an opinionated guy‚ not sure if he could come up to the bima and say the torah blessing because he did not believe in god‚ but letting me know he was proud of me in his own way. And Rabbi Axelrod‚ a wonderful warm man‚ welcoming

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