Personal Narrative Story: A Great Father

A Great Father A big, plump man with his belly showing proudly under his green working suit, going along with a face of an experienced business man with wrinkles to prove his age. If you ever sit to talk with him, there’s not much you can do except listening to his endless babbling from something as simple as weather to completely self - centered opinions. That is the kind of father I have, still I loved him for that. I will always remember the faint scent of liquor after he came home from a party; moreover, the useless argument about not wanting to get fat yet still eat everything that come into contact with his dry mouth. In the least, he is the one that holds the responsibilities of our family on his sore shoulders and the one that shapes …show more content…
Then, my father (in his handsome narrator voice) started to pick off the stories he told the last time. The stories were all so wild and vivid, mixing with the fact that I helped my father create the story, sometimes I even visualized the whole story while he was narrating it. It could be considered the most relaxing moment I had. My favourite story was about a fight between one great hero against a tremendous giant lion. According to me, I was the hero that crept into a horrid looking cave to fulfill my ultimate destiny; the air was damp, the strong wind rushed past me as if it was warning not to step in. I didn’t want to take another step, but the taste of delicious food that lingered on my mouth from the farewell party of the villagers and knew I needed to do this for them. Nevertheless, the stories usually never ended or was forgotten another …show more content…
The total silence throughout the day is one of the main aspect of my village. If you don’t count the occasional tweeting from the delightful birds, no one ever tends to come out of their own personal cages into the wide street, including me. Behind the houses that face toward the street, a deserted land, cover by tall grass, surround the village. It doesn’t give off any smell, though it is a perfect home for variety of unmentioned animals. These creatures somehow finds its way into the house through the abrasive wall and cause quite a chaos each time. Once a gecko slided onto my back, while on another time two baby frogs leaped onto my foot. The feeling was reprehensible. The stickiness of their feet was sickening. The experience was absolutely like something gluey being attached onto the skin. It is knotty how much abhorrence is built toward these disgusting animals overtime. Since there’s only two houses that face each other, my house is easily identify. A moderate white house, built in a western style, top with a jagged blue roof. In the corner of the house is decorated by one beautiful intimidation of a waterfall. Couple of large rocks - attached by slippery moss - pile up on top of each other to create the foundation of the waterfall, letting the cool water slip down into a replete pond. The pond doesn’t