Narrative Essay: I Don T Shot A Gun?

1114 Words 5 Pages
“I haven’t shot a gun in 30 years.” Terror draped in my shaky voice, ice cold eyes with his bottom lip tightly stern, as I caught the gun sheriff Tate threw in my direction.
"I’d feel mighty comfortable if you did now...” Tate replied snarky with a harsh hiss.
As I took hold of the gun the overwhelming feelings flooded over me, I heard the whispers of the trees echo through my head. Reminiscing the last time I aimed a fire arm, the last time I was caught.
I took a step closer to the gravel and dirt road, my heart slowed as my breath caught in my throat I glanced around, the trees danced on the gravel, with a whistle. The heat waves radiated the yellow light from the afternoon sun as it set over yonder. Taking in a breath that filled my lungs,
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He knocked again and out emerged my mother, hysterical with tears as she pulled me in for a tight embrace. Through sobbing she managed to say a quick thank you to Officer Tate as he pulled me indoors, where I was met with a slap to the …show more content…
I don’t wanna see you with a gun again” boomed father as I just stood there taking the punishment. Mother cowered in the corner watching it unfold that was okay I didn’t want her hurt. He sent me to my bedroom where I let the tears fall as I fell into a solemn slumber, not long after I heard screaming, he was yelling at mother again and I heard the slap. Running out of my room quietly I peeked from round the walls, where I saw mother on the floor crying clutching her cheek. Father stood powerfully over her I could see the rage and coldness of his soul in his eyes as he turned and looked in my direction. I quickly ducked behind the walls where I faced the kitchen. There sat my gun, leaning against the peachy yellow walls still loaded from before. Looking at it I gulped swallowing down my nerves as I heard heavy footsteps near me I moved my small body to the kitchen with ease and heaved the heavy gun into my arms, I heard him starting to get agitated with mother’s hysterics. My father is a loud man, even his mumbles I could hear word for

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