Personal Narrative-A Day In A Storybook Home

I wake to the same blank walls that greet me every morning, a sleek silver alarm chirps sharply, waiting to be switched off. I slip out of scratchy wool blankets, pushing a small button to silence the alarm that has served its purpose for today. I press a small grey notch in the wall next to my tiny cot to reveal a minimal closet that holds a few dull articles of clothing. The routine of getting ready every morning is so well practiced that I do it now without much thought at all, allowing my mind to wander in daydreams as I perform the monotonous tasks.

Today I turn fifteen, and everything is still the same.

Despite not being able to remember anything before coming to the Institution, I’ve never been able to call it home. A home should be bright and warm, like the homes in storybooks, not empty and cold. I’ve been dreaming of a storybook home since I could read, and I’m not about to stop now. Breakfast is the same every day. A nutrient-rich porridge paired with a small piece of fruit grown in the greenhouse. After a few small bites of the tasteless tan mush, I pick up my apple and take a cautious nibble. A stinging …show more content…
Through the safety of a glass panel, I look on in hopeless defeat as a boy my age is being dragged into the Institution. His name is Gill, I recognize him from my class a few years ago. He must have tried to make a run for it, but that’s never worked for anyone else. As Gill is swallowed by the tall stone walls of the Institution, I hear the buzz of a door sliding open behind me. I try my best to look unfazed and calm as I turn around to meet the guard. A tall woman full of sharp angles greets me, her hand resting on a stun gun attached to her hip. Commander Blithe. She raises an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to try something. Instead I lower my gaze to the floor, brush off my clothes, and move to follow her out of the greenhouse. Unlike Gill, I don’t put up a