Essay about personal narrative

Submitted By wyatt32121
Words: 687
Pages: 3

Proceeding to a fork, the sight of a yield sign catches my eye. The grinding sound of malfunctioning brakes rattle my ear drums, looking forward seeing the yield sign pass with no hesitation, the accelerating vehicle proceeds to move towards us. I quickly brace myself for impact; I grabbed the front of the dash, and gripped the door handle. Glancing over at Jordan I see no seat belt, because he decided to take it off prior. Quickly both vehicles swerve opposite ways, but still colliding, my body froze as if I was struck by ten thousand volts of electricity, not moving like a locked up engine, as the truck begins to rotate on two wheels. I glance back over as Jordan levitates out of his seat. The windows explode outwards as if there was a bomb inside. As if we jumped the car the truck flips in the ditch.

Looking around me, I realize it’s all over. Jordan laying half outside the windshield, I grab his shoulder thinking that he was dead. Quickly he looks at me, face covered in blood, he shouts get out! He scurries out of the upside-down truck threw the passanger window. I hang from the seat belt, confused with what happed; I find the buckle and replace myself. Realizing my glasses were no longer on my face, I begin to search the rubble. I feel a hand grab the back of my collar, and my survival instincts activate. I quickly pull away from it and swing at it. A man outside the truck shouts “get out, I’m trying to help!” I look half blinded and come to my senses, and crawl out. Squeezing through the small opening, I see Jordan on top of the ditch, his hands covering his face, while he wimpers. I zip up the ditch and see the demolished Pontiac. The Couple in it were sitting under a tree, the girl was crying, but looked alright as did the man. I asked if they were alright, but no reply, I felt insulted and walked in desperate search for my glasses. Diving back into the truck, I begin to dig through the old brake pads and napkins. After two minutes I give up, and exit the crash. As soon as I squeeze out I check myself and notice blood all over me, I search myself and cannot find a wound, and I realize the blood wasn’t mine.

All of the sudden a man in a hat approaches me, and asked me a hundred questions. I try to answer all I can, but the EMS insisted I get in the ambulance, I