Personal Narrative: The Bella Vista Mental Hospital
I am surrounded by darkness, confined in a paltry room its contents limited to a bed with a thin mattress and pillow. The air is dense and smells of blood. The brown walls smothered in writing reek of mulch. The only way to get in or out is through a small metal door that is locked from the outside. I feel like a caged animal, my every move being watched. I curl up in a ball on the floor, panic, worry, and uneasily drift in and out of sleep. From what I can tell I am in a mental hospital. The Bella Vista mental asylum, the place where nothing good ever happens. I tremble uncontrollably and hear queer voices in my head. Did you hear that? No what? Those sounds, Hailey screaming, to maybe it's someone scraping on the door. You should go open
Fourth Ward Polls: A Short Story
389 Words | 2 PagesThe door slams shut. A dry breeze follows me into Ryan’s Fourth Ward Polls as I escape the cold October night. An eerie group of men eye me up and down as I walk to the bar for my evening dose of cognac. As I shake their stares off, an old bartender greets me. We indulge in some light conversation about the upcoming Election Day as he pours me my smooth glass of cognac.
Chapter 1-49 Creative Writing
676 Words | 3 Pages"Are you reading this? If you are, then you have woken. You have been in a coma for 23 years. Everything you've ever seen, felt, heard or tasted was a hallucination. Your friends weren't real.
Personal Narrative: Overbrook Asylum
1298 Words | 6 PagesIt was a gray day. The sun did not shine; it could not pierce the layers of powdery black skies along with the fog. The thick mist that was not really rain, or fog covered the southeastern corner of New Jersey. It was depressing, just like most days in the area surrounding the Overbrook Asylum. On the outside, Overbrook was a welcoming place where patients were treated with care along with respect; the inside was very different.
Insanity In Elie Wiesel's 'Night'
1008 Words | 5 PagesOnce again, freezing darkness was carrying me in its hand. This time, I was hearing a breath so rough and powerful than the wind of the 1400s. Fear can sometimes make us want to die when you feel that we are in danger because it means two things: either you die and you don’t fear anymore, either you are saved but in that case, you are condemned to fear again and again until your last breath. That was the situation I was put into.
Juarez: The Destruction Of The American Dream
755 Words | 4 PagesLocked in a dormitory which became my only survival resource, for the disaster and dystopia that surrounded me in every inch of my eye, and which soon became my worst fear in the entire planet, death. Terrifying, frightening and alarming was the ambiance that was perpetuated in my conscience. Unimaginable nights when a single room became the aegis of my brother and myself from the violence and murder, which suddenly portrayed as hell in my perspective. Liberty and freedom had become slavery, and for one moment, I even thought if this was worth a better future. Worth risking the lives of my family.
Kool-Aid M A Short Story
1934 Words | 8 PagesIt was 8:07, Saturday morning, when I awoke to an insufferable rapping on my door. I tried to ignore it, and sleep, but the knocking persisted. This went on for no less than thirty minutes, until, it suddenly stopped. The abrupt silence was unnerving. I sat up in my bed, wondering if they had finally given up, and gone away.
The Insane Asylum Short Story
513 Words | 3 PagesThe Insane Asylum On Halloween, Freddie and his friends Rex and Stacy were walking around the city of New Orleans and found the abandoned insane asylum . They all said that it looked cool, but they didn't know that it was haunted. So when they walked in they found the whole place was trashed and the walls and floors were rotting. The floors were broken and the smell was if there was a sewer in the abandoned building. Facing up with the broken edges with blood all over them was the smell of the bloody clothes of all the insane people that had killed themselves 20 years earlier before the whole place was abandoned!
Personal Narrative: Rabidus Insane Asylum
881 Words | 4 PagesRabidus Insane Asylum While I sat alone in my room, my parents were cooking our family dinner. Each year my mom and dad prepared a huge feast for the night. It wasn't Thanksgiving, it was not holiday, it was purge night. A purge is where there is 12 hours with no laws and with no limitations to what you choose to do. I took my medication with a glass of chilled milk, and went into the kitchen.
Gwen Harwood Monologue
440 Words | 2 PagesI can hear the footsteps coming. Closer. So close. I hear the rattling of the keys as someone drops them, at the front of my door.
Personal Narrative-Lace Room
766 Words | 4 PagesImagine that the only thing in existence is one room. The room seems to be dark, like the deepest onyx, and barren like a frozen tundra. You turn realizing you were facing the wall and see many shadows lining along the edges of the room. From the shadows emerge several beings. Limp and pale, almost to the point of being translucent.
Personal Narrative: St. George Asylum
1634 Words | 7 PagesToday I sit here in my own cabin, head team lead of the St. George Asylum. These four blue walls surround me, a huge window looking over the main sleep room of all the mental patients. Number 83, the wheel chair is empty, as empty as the depth of my heart. The anger builds inside of me, with love in my heart, and tears down my cheek. Chair, bed, and clothes number 83 have become a huge part of my life and who I am today.
Personal Narrative: Bartow
950 Words | 4 PagesThe room engulfed my nose a awful smell and looked atrocious with Bowel movements on the floor next to thr toilet and a musk in the room filled my nose with despair only because inmates had been in this place for days and haven’t took showers. They feed us a bologna sandwich with eggs and grape jelly a lot of the inmates didn’t eat it but I knew I had to keep my energy up. Face tattoos and deranged faces most of the guys there had been thru this process before as they stood around the very tight-spaced room like as if we wasn’t in a cell where we couldn’t tell time or see the
Personal Narrative-Rosebud Reservation
270 Words | 2 PagesI woke up in Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. I live alone, my family lives down in Iowa. Sometimes I visit my family, and they love it. I have decided to take another trip down to visit.
Personal Narrative: Growing Up With Mental Illness
693 Words | 3 PagesGrowing up with mental illness they called me crazy, annoying, and angry. They looked at me differently. They’d even talk about it amongst themselves, but never offered guidance. That’s the problem with society these days. Everyone loves a party, but no one wants to clean up the mess.
Personal Narrative: My First Surgery
517 Words | 3 Pages“Sure” I thought. At this point we had arrived at the actual building and I kept thinking I wasn’t going to make it out, like I was going to have open heart surgery or something. The whole waiting room smelled of a doctor’s office which bred even more fear within me. And before I knew it my name was the one being called out. It was time.
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