Personal Narrative: The Immigrant

It was a tedious night in the office with a profusion of paperwork, and waiting around for for felonious acts to be committed. So as, just to alleviate the monotony in the small room. I remember the how the ring of the incoming call suffused its way throughout the room until all eyes found the source of it. I couldn’t wait to see what vermin we got to clean off of the streets today, for our moral citizens’ sake. I hoped it wouldn’t be a false plea or a call from an official. I took almost every call at the station in our quaint town. I was confident I would be the recipient of this call too, for I would do anything to get out of the office and into the action.

The receiver stopped ringing abruptly when I picked it up, and brought it to my …show more content…
It seemed as if the whole town was asleep ,and each street longer than the next, in the pitch black of night. We knew differently of course, for whomever was on the street for which we were headed must have been awake at some point or another. Finally, we pulled up to the alleged place of suspicion. It didn’t look like much, just a modest cottage fit for a small amount of people. Dim light was coming from the cottage, indicating that someone was stirring. This was of to be expected, for this claim did not sound completely inaccurate. The door was promptly knocked on, and we could hear a shuffling of feet. This shuffling was at a speed that an elderly man shouldn’t have been able to manage. I promptly got a tight feeling in my chest, sensing that this may not in fact be the man we were checking …show more content…
Thinking of where evidence might be hidden away, I looked and looked until I thought all spots must have been searched. I looked up to see my two partners being offered drinks by the man, whom looked a whole lot less swave than when we arrived. I formulated a plan in my mind, I would wait him out. A confession, That was the only way I could think to incriminate him without evidence. I made mindless small talk with my colleagues, hoping that they would catch on. The man was now growing paler by the minute. The man then Gasped and looked at us as if he had never seen us. He then faded to the shade of that of which think a ghost, and promptly screamed! I will never forget what he said to me, for it was that of great sorrow and delusion. Calling us villains and admitting his acts of treachery really was his finest hour. Even if he wasn’t calling out in remorse, but in futility he still gave us what we needed to do our