Personal Narrative-Home

I sat by the hearth warming my cold hands against the blazing fire. My hands were too numb even to begin my schoolwork. The mile walk from the schoolhouse was a great burden during winter days. When I arrived home the hem of my skirt was soaked from the piles of snow on the ground. My mother worked hard to provide for me and my many siblings. My winter coat was merely scraps of cloth sewn together. We were all expected to do our part around the house. Being the oldest I had to care for my younger siblings, help prepare meals, mend their clothing, and on top of that balance my schoolwork. It was a lot of responsibility to take on at such a young age, but was glad that I could help.
When my hands had finally thawed, I walked over to the room …show more content…
At that moment we had both known who had to go. Me. I was expected to ride through 40 miles and alert all the generals that the British were coming. My father nodded at me, a solemn look plastered on his face. “Go Sybil,”
As quickly as I could I had grabbed my hood, and raced out the door near our barn. I had swung open the gate to Star’s part of the stable and hopped on her back.
“Hya!” I screamed. She had whinnied and then begun racing off into the distance. As I rode through the wind, icy snowflakes and freezing rain stuck to my face like paste. My hair has fallen out, curly locks of hair flowing behind me in the wind. As we passed through the towns, I knocked on all the members of the militias doors. I had screamed out “The British are coming! Prepare for an attack!” I rode through forty miles of town in the freezing rain. Ten hours of screaming through towns, alerting everyone of what was coming. When I had finally arrived home, I was exhausted. I collapsed on my bed and the never ending feel of pride still within me. I had just saved thousands of lives. Me, just a teenage girl had done something that only a grown man could’ve done. That feeling from that very night had never left me, not for the rest of my