Personal Narrative Essay

2431 Words 10 Pages
Red… Gold… Orange… Blue… Catching a glimpse of the blue skied day, the leaves rained down on me, swirled by the promise of winter approaching. A faint hint of kerosene perpetually tainted the air, assuring citizens what would occur from hoarding books. As I perched on the branch watching the mindless citizens lazily stroll by, I began to imagine a different world. The world that my uncle and his people describe in their retellings of all the burned stories. A world that appears to be forever lost, despite the attempts of the group to revive the unresponsive community. My uncle finally allowed me to accompany him on one of his “business trips” upon my seventeenth birthday. He says that seventeen once was an important age in a person’s life; …show more content…
As I watched people go about their daily tasks, I contemplated what they could be thinking. No one talks anymore; if you try to talk to someone, it is filled with awkwardness on both parties. Yet this did not stop me. At home, my uncle and I have genuine conversations, unlike the countless of citizens who converse solely to ask when the next showing of the latest sitcom will appear on the Parlor. It was a crisp night, the wind whistling by carrying the multicolored leaves around. Along with the wind a sharp smell of kerosene accompanied the refreshing breeze – bringing me back to reality. Turning around to try and pinpoint the abrupt source of kerosene brought the man into focus. He was fairly tall, with a distinct salamander tattoo and a phoenix-disc on his chest. The increased smell of kerosene now made sense, of course a firefighter would reek of the fuel for their fire. I learned his name was Guy, Guy Montag and he was my neighbor. He was the first person I had met outside of my house and my uncle’s group who could genuinely carry a conversation. My uncles group of highly intelligent and organized individuals was what we found on the other side of the fence after walking a couple of miles down the river. I didn 't mind the time walking through – this was the first time in my life that I had not smelled the gag-inducing smell of kerosene. This …show more content…
We talked of the horror that had just occurred to all of those innocent people – the people who did not choose the way of life they had been living. Yet as we talked, the sadness I felt began to dissipate. Of course I was saddened at the loss of so many innocent lives. But how could hope not surge through me as I thought of the possibilities that laid ahead of us. New books could be written with new stories – the old ones could be resurrected. I thought of the art that could fill a new city with the freedom of creativity. A city where creativity is not only accepted, but encouraged. Perhaps for children school would consist of more than mindless activities to tire us out; perhaps we could ask questions. I dreamt of everything that we could make this city, everything that I could make this city. Despite the destruction of everything I had ever known, despite my uncle dragging me to this group, despite all of it, I finally had something that I could make of my own. As I walked with Montag, I began to realize that we were the future of our society. The red, gold, and orange leaves blew from the trees, resurrecting memories of the fire that caused so much destruction in the city. Yet as these leaves surrounded us, a new fire began to arise, a fire inside me. This fire ignited hope inside me as I realized that I could make a

Related Documents