Personal Narrative

Denny Staples

Staples 1

January 24, 2007 English III AP The Biggest Game Summers spent at my Aunt Nana’s house always proved eventful, not because we went anywhere extraordinary, but because of the places my cousin, sister and I imagined. There, on the rolling, bucolic acres of Nana’s frontier, we would become South African headhunters, cops and robbers, or the NBA’s next prodigy. That is, if we survived the day without squabbling too much. On one of July’s fiery days, the three of us remained inside Nana’s house – no one wanted to be a South African headhunter when it actually felt like South Africa outside. Fuses grew short. Tempers sweltered under the sun’s gaze. Languidly tromping into my cousin Kemisha’s room, I prowled her dresser, searching for a trinket that would serve as my prey. She eyed me from her perch on the bed, watching her possessions as a lioness would her cubs. Stopping at a blue and red ball with flopping tendrils, I snatched the prize up and tromped out of the room, my prey in tow. The lioness followed. Arriving at the den, I tossed the ball to my younger sister, Briana. She accepted the toy with a precautious glance at Kemisha, testing our cousin’s boundaries – the game was on. My sister and I tossed the ball back and forth for a minute, constantly creating new tricks to make our game appear more enticing than it really was. “Give it back,” my cousin protested. Finally, we’d gotten the rise we were looking for. “Why?” I press. “It’s not like you were using it.” I lackadaisically tossed the ball back to Briana, demonstrating my lack of concern for Kemisha’s order.

Denny Staples

Staples 2

January 24, 2007 English III AP The ruckus that ensued was just what I had hoped for when I’d initially stolen Kemisha’s ball. Kemisha fought breathlessly for her ball back, jumping ferociously between Briana and me as we passed it back and forth, a game of Keep Away gone awry. After the frenzied activity had sapped the breath from our bodies, we looked about the den, surveying the aftermath. Mountains of magazines stood disheveled on the floor, chairs were toppled over, and pages of the latest TV Guide lay strewn about the room. Couch cushions teetered haplessly on the edge of the couch, and somewhere on the opposite side of the room, candle wax dripped onto Nana’s work table. Still panting, I stood triumphantly and threw the red and blue ball at the wall before it bounced off and fell behind the couch. I made for the door before Kemisha’s voice stopped me. “You have to clean this mess up!” “It’s not my house,” I retorted. By this time, my aunt was beginning to make her way down the stairs, no doubt investigating the strident noises the three of us had been creating moments before. Dashing out of the den, I plopped down in front of the TV in the living room, quickly straightening my clothes and regaining my halo as Nana tromped by, her faced twisted in puzzled anger. I simply shrugged at her sidelong glance, a testimony that I’d had nothing to do with the noise. After a few moments, I heard the intense bellows of my aunt as Briana and Kemisha had to atone for the catastrophe that had been created in the den. There’s a fine line between sinners and saints.