Narrative Writing:

(This essay met and exceeded standards when….read below)

Element: ELA7W2.a

Narrative Writing: Engages readers by establishing and developing a plot, setting, and point of view that are appropriate to the story (e.g., varied beginnings, standard plot line, cohesive devices, and a sharpened focus).

Parts of a plot: exposition, rising action leading to a climax, falling action leading to a resolution. Observe below how Hannah actually engages the reader with what could be considered the climax of her narrative, the attack of the father.   This was also a good way of varying the beginning of the essay and establishing the primary conflict that would drive the plot of her story with a hint of suspense.

Element: ELA7W2.d

Narrative Writing: Includes sensory details and concrete language to develop plot, setting, and character (e.g., vivid verbs, descriptive adjectives, and varied sentence structures).

Element: ELA7W2.f

Narrative Writing: Uses a range of strategies (e.g., suspense, figurative language, dialogue, expanded vocabulary, flashback, movement, gestures, and expressions, tone, and mood).

Element: ELA7W2.g

Narrative Writing: Provides a sense of closure to writing.

The Completion: By Hannah (Nicole) Sanders

“Hurry, hurry, He’s coming!” I screamed to my mother. We ran through the cabin looking for places to hide. We finally came to a wooden box where two people could fit, which was perfect for my mom and I.  When we squeezed inside, we could hear my drunken father coming up the stairs. “Oh you want to play hide and seek, when I find you, you are going to die!” my father yelled.  As his feet hit the ground, I felt my heart pounding too except my heart was going at a much faster rate!  I frantically whispered to my mother, “I love you momma.” She replied “I love….., but before she could finish BOOM! There he was staring me face to face with his furious red smokey eyes.  He angrily pointed the gun at me whispering, “I love you too sweet heart,” as he pulled the trigger, I closed my eyes to only hear a snap.  There were no bullets in the gun! “Run,” I screamed to my mother.  We ran hand in hand with each other; my mother’s foot got caught in some wires.  “Go,” my mother yelled.  I hesitated on whether I should leave or stay by her side.  Then on the counter, I saw the bullets to my father’s gun; my father obviously saw them as well. Like two runners racing to the finish line, we both dashed toward the counter, but my father won the race.  He quickly popped the bullets in and pointed it at me saying, “I love you too and I’ll love you till the day you die!” Then he pulled the trigger but unexpectedly the fired round did not hit me! The house was silent; I spun around to the shocking discovery that the bullet had hit my mother instead!

“Momma!” I cried out loud. My father moved in closer. As soon as he got close enough, I turned around, picked up a knife from the counter, and cut his face as if it were a cold cut meat sandwich. Then I grabbed the gun making him the new target. “I love you too and even though you put this family through a lot: coming home drunk and beating momma, selling drugs, and starting drama! It’s all over now!” I shouted. The bullet greeted my father’s chest leaving him fallen to the ground with no reply.   

With flashy lights, the police arrived; approaching the door, they yelled “open up!”  I ran to my mother’s side with the gun that felt as heavy as a sledge hammer, still in my hand. The police kicked in the door, shining the flashlight in my face “ma’am put the gun down,” the officer demanded. Speechless, I put the gun down and studied each officer’s face. The officers had determined looks on their faces, but I was not sure what they were determined about. Then the officers recited lines I commonly heard on popular detective shows, “place your hands behind your back; Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, you have a right to an attorney…etc.” Their tone and convicting glances gave me a feeling that they would not believe my side of the story.  All I was to them was a criminal who had murdered my mother and father. Without any hesitation, I put my hands behind my back and remained quiet. Next thing I know, the FBI agent came in and talked to the officers, “we walked in on the girl standing over this fellow over here.” I could not believe what I was hearing. I was not standing over the body! When the FBI agent came over to interrogate me, the first thing he said was, “Hey, how are you doing, my name is Mr. Clarke, what all happened tonight young lady?” “Where’s my mother (?!?!)”  I asked sharply. Then he nervously replied “your mother is still alive; she has been rushed to the emergency room and will be treated well.  Now, all we need to know is your side of the story because from what the officers told me something just does not sound right.  But, what they do have on you is evidence: your fingers prints on the gun, your parents both being victims, and you being the only one standing here now.” “Well it all started out when my mom and dad were fighting because she asked him to sign a letter, but I was not sure what it was all about, then I remember hearing my dad yelling, “if this marriage goes down then we all go down!” so later on that night it happened. My dad had got drunk and came into the house with the gun so me and my mother hid, but he found us. However, when he pulled the trigger the gun had no bullets. My mother and I ran and her foot got stuck in some wires. I looked up and saw the bullets for the gun on the counter but my dad got to them before I did. Then he took a shot and I was quick to find out he had succeeded at hitting the target which was my mother, I was able to get the gun and I shot him; I was horrified. I thought I was going to die!” I said. It grew silent when I finished saying all I had to say until the EMT came over and asked to have a moment with Mr. Clark. “Well the girls mother has recovered but it turns out that she does not remember a thing, not even her daughters name!” The EMT nervously answered. “Where is her mother located, asked Mr. Clark?” she has been placed at Harrison hospital right up the road. I quickly ran to be with my mother.   

   As I walked through the doors of Harrison hospital, I saw numerous patients waiting to be examined. I stopped at the front desk to ask the lady where room 230 was and she rudely replied, “room 230 is not allowed to have visitors at the moment so go away!” I could not imagine not seeing my mother; I decided to search for her room myself.  I found room 230.  My mother was lying in the bed looking so helpless. It was awful.  I quickly ran to her side, “mom get up! You have to be a witness for me in my case, I have been charged with murder!”  She replied, “who are you?” In a weak voice, she pointed to the door and attempted to yell “get out.”  I did not want to aggravate her so I honored her request.  As I walked down the road, I fell to the ground and prayed to God asking him to give my mother back her memory.  I felt like a bird that had a broken wing struggling to fly once more.  Then as I started to get off my knees, I saw Mr. Clark standing over me. I fell into his arms and cried.  While I rested my head on his shoulders for a moment, I can tell he was getting emotional as well. I thought to myself, “if my dad had been as caring, this entire ordeal would have been avoided.” Mr. Clark put me in his car and we drove back to the hospital.  He led me to my mom’s room. I hesitantly entered her room where I saw a second bed placed directly next to my mother.  The mattress appeared to be as soft as Mr. Clark’s caring eyes.  I walked over toward my mother, while Mr. Clark turned the lights off and left us alone.

 The next morning I read to my mother passages from the bible, one of her favorite activities she would often do on her own.  This started a routine that continued until that long awaited day came.  My mother’s memory returned to her.  Mr. Clark recorded her statements concerning the events of that night.  With the truth in his hands and an eyewitness, I was cleared from all charges.  That night my mom and I ate dinner at the hospital.  For once in my life, I felt happy.  Life seemed so shattered like a puzzle with scattered pieces, but all I needed was the truth and faith to make the completion.