I stared at the blinking cursor in disbelief at what I had just done. I was actually finished; made with a paper that I agonized over for 6 hours. The document was due in just 4 hours and I had all week to do it. The radio no longer worked because my brother had connected to the Internet and thus cut my connection. This was the least of my problems while working on this document. But I did it. My life changed with a teacher's journey to the blackboard and one sentence, a narrative essay. God, I hate narrative essays. My day was going well. I devoured a hearty breakfast, my brother, for once, got out of the shower quickly, and there were no major missions pending. Life was very, very good. Then life began to fade into oblivion. I saw on the board outside Mrs. Smith's room the journal entry for the day. It was about what I would write in a narrative essay. Hope has faded. Somewhere on the planet, a nuclear bomb has fallen. An earthquake struck in an unknown location on Earth. A volcano erupted on Jupiter's moon Io and killed a group of Ionians. Someone's red rose withered and the petals fell to the ground. The end of the world was indeed upon us. My jaw dropped and alarm bells went off in my head. I went completely blank. I tried as hard as I could to write my diary. Channel One came on and talked about a nuclear bomb going off in India that caused an earthquake that somehow caused a volcano to erupt on Io (which had killed a group of aliens). My jaw dropped once again. It was now the ground. As I finished my journal, Mrs. Smith walked to the front of the room and talked about, du du du, the narrative papers. She gave us a cold, white study guide that gave me no hope of survival. She then gave us another bad sheet of paper... middle of paper... I must have a half decent grade. So, I started it and I was sure I was going to succeed. God, I hate narrative essays. You should write about your own personal experiences and expect to get a three-page article out of it. I don't have any events in my life that would fit in a three-page diary. The events of my life are either too fuzzy in my mind, too insignificant to fit into a three-page article, or too voluminous and broad to fit into an essay and would require a 500-page book to describe them. explain. I do much better in other types of essays besides narratives, like the persuasive paper. I look forward to these kinds of essays more than I look forward to doing other narrative essays. In the meantime, though, I'm going to try to convince James to get off the Internet. Maybe then I will have a better narrative subject. I Hate Narrative Essays Anyway.