Personal Narrative: A Life In The Ghetto

Man in the Mine A life in the ghetto is no life at all. Especially in Molesville, Pennsylvania, a town left in the dust by modern society. Ever since I can remember my mother has been sick, this terrible place is the cause. With little sanitation the streets are rat infested and the poor die young. We had not had enough money, when my father left us, to afford food to live with, let alone go get help from a doctor. After my mother’s pregnancies she gradually became more and more sick. I thought my mother was in pain from the way she sat on her bed constantly crying. That theory was proven one day when her will to fight died. She transformed into a being of hatred. Her heart turned as black as the night. She was different, the mother I once knew dead. Although I knew she was still there, deep, deep down waiting for me to rescue her from herself. In almost an instant I decided the only way to save her was to earn the money for
After waking up this time, I once again thought I was in the mine. I was wrong. I woke up in a small bed covered in blankets with my two younger siblings staring at me. “What happened,” they both said as soon as my eyes had opened. I told them all of it. What I had been doing to save our mother the work I was going through. The pain I had endured trying to achieve this goal. They both began to cry and told me to never worry about money anymore. I once again passed out. It was morning, but something was not right. I felt strange like my body was not my own. I was in the same room, yet something was different. I got up looked in the mirror and was astonished at what I saw. I felt that what I was looking at could not be a mirror because the images I saw were not of me. I saw a poorly shaven man of about twenty-five staring back at me. He was thin and looked like death had barely escaped him. He was scary, although what scared me the most is thinking about what had happened to