Personal Narrative Essay: A Day To Walk Home
Instead of thinking of the water, I pretended the nasty, murky, water was like the bright, blue, mats at the gym. I began taking slow steps, with each step there was a creaking noise. Like a noise you’d hear when you walk across an old hardwood floor. The noise was getting increasingly worse. Once I reached the middle instead of creaking I heard a loud cracking. Then-SWOOSH-down I went into that nasty, muddy, yucky water. It was different than swimming in the lake. Some of my friends were laughing and others were going for help because god knows what is in this water than can seriously hurt me. I swam or walked back over. I wasn’t hurt but it scarred the poop out of me.
Whenever I got back to shore, my new enemy, Jake, was waiting. He held out his hands. I took them and he helped pull me back up. There was like a two-foot drop between the water and land. Jake was your typical twelve year old boy who enjoyed nothing but baseball. He always wore a Red Sox tshirt. After we got me passed the two-foot lift, I was kind of mad. Because I was cold and my clothes were soaked. Possibly forever stained.
I grabbed my shoes and socks and walked back home. Instead of walking home alone, I had him with me. So strange. But he also lived a couple houses down from me and it was like six o’clock. It was dinnertime. I got to my house.
I yelled at Jake, “Thanks for