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Personal Narrative
My uncle, Gerard, used to live in Oklahoma because that’s where the
National Park Service decided to locate him. The roads were long and winding and the
roadside was filled with oil wells while the road itself was littered with dead amarillo
carcasses. It was one of the most interesting drives my family and I had ever taken. My
uncle lived in a luxurious house on the north side of a lake. In my opinion, this was one
of the stupidest ideas ever! The mosquitoes grew to the size of quarters and would swarm
around not only people but any animals attempting to come near the lake. It was quite
similar to a scene taken from the Divine Comedy. After viewing my uncles house and
the park in which he worked, my family decided it would be an excellent idea it take an
afternoon stroll around this mosquito infested lake. I was seven at the time and my older
brother, Andre, pleaded with my parents to let us stay near my uncles house. This
decision was made only because my brother didn’t want to walk around with, in our
opinions, “boring adults.” I was allowed to stay behind as well.
When my family had left for their walk Andre and I were left to entertain
ourselves. My brother took to skipping stones while I found a good hardy stick I could
lift and, as many boys of seven do, was swinging it above my head like a mad man
fending off imaginary foes. Then, in my opinion at the time, I had the most excellent of
ideas. I came to the conclusion that while my brother was sitting on the shore of the lake I
would take a rock, throw it over his head and in the process would get him soaked. There
was a litter of stones near the stick I had found and began deciding which would be best
to complete my task. I found a rock that I could easily throw, but no! I needed a rock that
would create a humongous splash and would do the job of successfully getting Andre
sufficiently wet. I then decided upon a rock I could hardly lift but figured it would get an
elephant drenched if thrown with the right arc. Meanwhile, Andre had retired from his
stone throwing and sitting on the shore right where I wanted him. I positioned myself
behind a rotting ponderosa log. This concealment would help me in the long run. I
couldn’t outrun Andre, I knew this for sure. I obtained this knowledge from years of
Andre playing his continuous game with me of seek and destroy. My only option left
would be master of camouflage. I was taking my life into my own hands, but first I must
lift the rock. As I took the rock into my grasp my small arms were shaking due to the
shear size of it. I began rocking it back and forth. Just when I felt I had built up enough
momentum I released the rock into its aerial voyage. To this very day I can visualize that
rock sailing into the air. I ducked behind the log to take up the position of master of
camouflage. But there was no splash, no gigantic wave of water created by this mass into
liquid; only a dull thud piercing the silence of this riparian environment. I slowly and
cautiously raised my head above the log. Andre was lying on the ground. “Oh my God!” I
muttered to myself. A small voice in the back of my head began chanting these words,
“You’ve killed your brother”. Slowly at first, only as a mere thought but the voice
continued into a crescendo. Soon the noise was pounding in my ears and the realization
of what just happened hit me. Cain and Abel came to mind, I was Cain, I slew my own
flesh and blood. I looked at my hands, blackened with dirt; they were filthy. I had
committed the supreme evil. No!! It was an accident!! I tried to reassure myself but the
voice in the back of my head was relentless. Suddenly a groan was expelled from Andre’s
mouth and I returned to reality. Andre sat up rubbing his head. “O my God, He’s alive!”
When I saw him there returning to consciousness I wished he was dead. “Oh hell, I’m in
for it now!” I was standing up still behind the log. Andre turned toward me and looked in
my eyes. I returned the favor and gazed back, awestruck. His eyes were very watery and
off focus like he couldn’t keep his eyes on me without blinking continuously. He then
spoke, voice cracking, like a man doomed to solitary confinement who is not accustomed
to something as simple as speech. I can’t remember what the first words from his lips
were. I could feel the water filling up in my eyes and soon the pain of the lump in my
throat had to be released. But my howl of despair never came. I blacked out.
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