Personal Narrative: My Life In New Orleans

Have you ever been to Atlanta,Georgia before?The time i went to Atlanta,Georgia was month I have ever had. I got to hangout with my cousins,family,and friends. We had so much fun with them because we did something so much fun.We went to Atlanta,Georgia to go visit people.

If I had a ticket to go anywhere, i would go back to New Orleans, Louisiana because that's my home town where I was born and raised. Half of my family that i haven't seen in awhile is down there. I miss the food there, it was extremely delicious.

At the beginning of the month we stopped at the sweetwater river crossing because the land was ideal for camping and lavish for the animals. At nightfall we were attacked by another tribe of native americans, this battle was faster although more meaningful because 7 of my close friends died in the battle. Joseph and Tom both died in the battle leaving Tom, Dave and I left in the council. Joseph's death was early on in the battle, him and his family were slaughtered horrifically as joseph was fighting off the indians he watched as his daughter was decapitated and wife's throat was cut open as she screamed and pleaded, Joseph upon watching was distracted from the task at hand and was stabbed in the stomach and was left to bleed to death on the

A Cherokee leader grabbed my leg and put alcohol on it. Then he used a shirt to wrap it around the wounded area.I could still walk but not that well. One of the US soldiers told us that three more days and we will get there. What we started the trail there was 210 Cherokee and now there is only about 50 of us. I was starting to feel better and I almost walked properly. This would have happened if we stayed in our territory. At night we were finally given food and water. I felt like we haven't eaten in years. In the morning, one of the Cherokee members was arguing with a U.S. Soldier. The U.S. Soldier got mad and then started to fist fight. The Cherokee punched the soldier and took his gun. All the U.S. Soldiers were pointing their guns toward the Cherokee member and then the Cherokee member shot and killed the soldier.All the soldiers fired at the Cherokee member and he died. We kept on walking for a long amount of time and we finally had reached our destination. It was the worst thing that had happened to all of us. Most of us died on this journey and where we were sent, was too cold for us. Many of the Cherokee members got sick and died. Only 30 of us remained and living in this new piece of land was hard to

I was fortunate enough to participate on a mission trip to New Orleans, just a year after Hurricane Katrina occurred. It was a horrific sight, all those people in such grief, and fear in their eyes. A desire was instilled in my heart to help those affected by such tragedies. I will never forget one of the nights there, my church group visited a small church that had just finished being rebuilt. They had lost everything in the storm, some even lost family members. I noticed an elderly woman sitting alone in the back pew, I walked up to her and asked if I could pray about anything for her. But she told me to sit down and listen. “I lost everything in this horrific storm, my house, car and all of my family. But I have my church back and that is enough for me. I thank God for allowing me to be alive, I am one of the lucky ones.

Ever since I was able to write, I documented my everyday encounters. My journal expanded alongside my writing skills. However it was until college that my true passion for storytelling unfolded. My freshman year, I declared my major in journalism. I craved getting out of the college bubble and actually going into the community. Listening to stories about people within the community excited me, and I thrived off being able to rely this new information back to the public, especially people within the college bubble. This past year I was able to publish some stories about volleyball and softball games in Ole Miss’s newspaper, The Daily Mississippian. Currently I am a member of the Native American Journalist Association, working on a project about

On a dark and gloomy day, a cloud of sadness comes over the cemetery where many people gathered to mourn the death of Katrina Whyne, the mother of young Jasmine Whyne, only 11 years old. The death remains a mystery to this day, but what happened the day of her death will be remembered forever. Family and friends gathered together to celebrate the life of Katrina Whyne and grieve her loss. One of Jasmine’s closest friends Sophie Fogg, hasn’t spoken to Jasmine since Katrina’s death, as only Sophie knew the truth of Katrina’s demise.

Living in New Orleans for over 6 years the effects of health disparities lied at the heart of my community.

“Five Mississippi” -- Oozing crimson blood squirts and jets all over my snug apparel. Like a blazing fire, it spreads all over my “scratched” body . “Four Mississippi “-- One last glimpse of the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds, before I fade away. In that grimy, dreary, and wintry starlit sky, but that weather just made me expect the feeling of death. “Three Mississippi” -- Eyes of scarlet are gazing at me, however, I only perceive a blur; yet those eyes only made its ivory silk tailcoat, silver lining top hat, and chocolate skin seem more…nefarious. “Two Mississippi” -- Cozy fuzzy gloves are carrying me; flinging me to the strange electric glow of that eerie river; where I slowly sink into the ominous waters: drowning, bleeding,

On the other hand, I didn't have a problem making friends. In matter of fact, my mother used to get concerned when I bring more than five friends over to the house. My buddies and I used to have a good time every single day until Hurricane Katrina came. Hurricane Katrina has change my life in a flash, I lost all my friends because I didn't have any way to communicate with them. Social media didn't exist and I was too young for a cellphone. I forgot about my friends and my friends forgot about me but I still miss those people today. I realize the true definition of a hurricane, clothes destroyed, family photos soaked, and furniture destroyed and stolen. We had to shop at goodwill and thrift store just to replenish our closets of clothes. My

I was around seven or eight when Hurricane Katrina hit. I do not remember much about the event besides what the news said and what my family relayed to me. I had been living in Georgia for about a year or two when Hurricane Katrina had hit. Being so young I was not as knowledgable about the disaster until I was older. It was hard for me to be sympathetic because I was ignorant to what was truly going on. I remember my mom watching the news and telling my older brother and I to be more grateful for things but I never truly understood why. I remember lots of people moving to Georgia especially to my neighborhood. There was one family that I remember vividly. They lived in the same building as me, they had three boys, a girl, and a dog. They were

Why Tulane? There are plenty of obvious reasons for wanting to go to Tulane. For one thing it’s in New Orleans, and who doesn’t love New Orleans? I live on the North Shore. I could come home every, single weekend and I would never miss a holiday with my family. Groceries and laundry wouldn’t be a problem.

I knew I was not supposed to be doing what I was about to do. My momma and papa warned me a million times and I even got grounded once, maybe twice, for disobeying them, but this was the festival of colors we are talking about. When you are a big, little fish swimming in and out of the caves and rocks and through the underwater bubblers around the florescent seaweed, and flipping the sea slugs over and racing the turtles down by the Mississippi Street Bridge. Everyone that was important in the river colony spent every minute of their free time in the shallows under the bridge. Once you experience the bridge nowhere else is as fun or amusing. There were rebels and dare-devils that weaved in and out of little rock pools sticking out of the river’s

It was a freezing, dark night, and the bright moon was hiding behind a dense layer of black clouds. As I was wondering the streets, rain started pouring over the city of Houston.

I grew up a suburban neighborhood in southeastern Louisiana. At first it was a relatively quiet place, and the people who lived on my street were kind and, well, neighborly. Life as a kid back then was about as typical as it gets in my opinion, but, as the years went by, things just seemed to get worse. What was once a place for fun with the neighbor's kids and barbeques or pool parties for the whole neighborhood quickly became a cesspool of divorce, solitude and generally antisocial behavior. Kids started dropping out of school, getting pregnant, stealing, and some my classmates in high school tragically passed away under horrific circumstances. Eventually, even I had to forsake my education due to crisis, and right at the beginning of my