narrative essay

Thump. Thump. Thump. The pounding of the door awakened me in the dead of the night. Distinctive voices were calling through the door. I lay in my bed quietly as I heard the footsteps of my mother in the hallway. Lights went a blazing, lighting her way, some spilling into our room. Then I heard a door open and more feet shuffling into our quiet home. “Police,” said an unknown voice, so loud and so clear. “Put your hands up in the air and get down on the floor.” My mother moved to obey the order. More feet were moving about. Voices were talking above voices. Someone asked my mother a question. As I listened, I heard the fear in her response and the frustrations in the other. Doors were opened, and then shut closed. Footsteps trekked throughout the house, as if they were looking for something or someone. I heard voices talking, but I didn’t understand what was being said, all I knew was that I was scared and curious.
My curiosity got the better of me and I moved to get up. My older sister, Chelle, grabbed my hand.
“Don’t move,” she whispered.
I asked her, what was going on. She responded, “I don’t know. Go back to sleep.” I lay back onto our bed, but I didn’t sleep. Instead, I thought about my mom. What must she be going through? Who were these people? Minutes seemed to pass by with nothing happening in the other room, but talking amongst them. I couldn’t just lay here and not do anything, I thought to myself. I have to do something. They might hurt her. With wild imaginations churning into my mind, I decided I needed to face them and my imaginations.
I untangled my hand from my sister and slowly got up. With the little light spilled underneath our door, I turned my head towards my sister. Her eyes were opened and tears streamed down. “I’m scare,” she whispered. I replied, I was too, but I wanted to know what was going on.
“I’ll go with you,” she said, moving quietly about the bed into the next one where my two oldest sisters were sleeping. She shook them,