English &Honors Engish 9 Our Narrative Nonfiction Writings

By: Brooklynn Carron ~ The Harmony of Grief - A Titanic Story ~ (Based on Wallace Hartley and His Band)

With every despairing crack beneath my feet, the ship began to cry—like a mother losing her child, mourning the lives that she could no longer protect. The weight of her sorrow engulfed us, knowing guiltily that we could do no more than she could. It wasn’t her fault that she was forced to take her last breath beside us.

As I stand there beside my band, there is nothing out here but the midst of tragedy. The frigid wind of the ocean soaks into my bones, as if it’s trying to embrace me. Only the stars can understand us now, as we are left only with our sins and regrets.

The wailing of human grief fills the air, alongside the frantic footsteps of those in desperation, making my stomach churn. Every thump from the deck synchronizes with the strings of my violin. I glance around me at the many personal belongings scattered and abandoned, much like the rest of us. I watch as people attempt to board the lifeboats, their faces marked with pure anguish. Hollow eyes that rarely blink, swirling with dread.

Even though I chose to stay, I can’t help but grieve what my future could have been. Even so, no matter what I feel, I can’t go back now, and this is my final task. I am obligated to help my people in their last moments and make them feel at ease one last time. We have to sacrifice our precious memories, hopes, and dreams for the sake of others. That is our sole job now, and quite a worthy one.

The band and I exchange glances, coming to a silent agreement—we mustn’t back out now.

As our instruments resume harmonization, we fill the air with solace as we play “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” grasping at any attempt to calm the passengers, striving to give them comfort in such cruelty.

The oily residue from the Titanic's machinery coats my throat in a bitter taste. A lump soon forms, from the overwhelming sound of screaming. Even though we’re playing as loud as we can, it still doesn’t overpower the unforgettable sound of bodies hitting the water as they cry out to us for salvation. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to soothe my thoughts and block out everything but the music.

As I pour every last ounce of passion into my music, I feel my hands starting to bleed. A painful reminder of the fate I’ve chosen for myself. With each drop of blood that trickles down, I know it’s blending with the unwelcoming water that draws closer to us, joining the lifeless bodies lost to the dark depths beneath us. It’s a burdening thought—how my blood, uniting with theirs, is painting the moonless ocean into a mournful canvas.

I slowly open my eyes, only to see that the remaining lifeboats have already left. Countless people stand, soulless, watching as their families leave them behind. Children cling to each other in terror, trying to comfort one another and make sense of it all. I don’t think they even realize that these are the last hours we will ever get. I wonder what we did to deserve such unfortunate circumstances.

Suddenly, my eyes begin to brim with tears. I am more terrified about losing my friends than my own life. They aren’t just my bandmates. They all have families, dreams, and memories they hold very dear. They have names, and souls.

I momentarily stop playing and turn to see how each of them is doing. They follow my lead, and we all fall silent together. Now, there’s no way to distract ourselves from the painful sounds around us.

John.

George.

Will.

Tommy.

Eddie.

Each with his own individuality—and it’s going to be stripped away from all of us. I just can’t fathom that.

Will’s hands start to tremble as he holds his viola, likely with the same fears overwhelming his mind as the rest of us. He looks up, noticing that I’m glancing at him, his brows furrowed.

“Do you—” Will starts, his voice breaking, “do you think we’re doing the right thing here, Wallace?” he asks. “Is it going to be worth it when we won’t even be able to remember who we are?”

My eyes widen, and I can’t look away. My heart begins to race while nausea rises in my stomach. My adrenaline is wearing off, and there’s not a single thing in this world that can stop the undeniable fear in me. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure so I don’t make the others more anxious.

“There is nothing else we can do, Will. This is all we have left to give—our lives, our dreams, and any hopes for the futures we so desperately craved. Immerse yourself in that dread and continue until the very end,” I say, looking at each of them. Their mouths fall open slightly, unaccustomed to my being so direct.

I turn back, adjusting myself into a more comfortable position with my violin. But before I can play again, Will speaks up once more.

“Thank you, Wallace.” His voice is soft, barely audible. I look over my shoulder at him, only to be met with the most sorrowful expression hidden beneath a thankful smile. I try to smile back at him, but my face feels heavy, like it’s about to collapse and reveal every vulnerability.

“You don’t have to worry about thanking me,” I say, my voice cracking. “You aren’t alone in this.”

He nods, avoiding my gaze, looking instead at the floating bodies in the pitch-black sea. The faint glow from the lifeboats in the distance, so far away now, fades slowly—like memories. Our hands are frozen, mine bloodied, but we pick up our instruments anyway, fumbling over the strings yet persevering, as if it might somehow save us.

“Do you think it’s reaching them?” Tommy asks, his eyes glued to his violin.

I delay my response, watching the last crowd of people on the deck pray and hold each other. Strapping life jackets onto one another, waiting for the inevitable. Our music plays solely for them and no one else. The howls of the wind interrupt our notes, but do not silence them.

“That’s all we can hope for,” I finally say, patting his shoulder. “If they can’t hear it…at least we know we did everything we could.” He nods, accepting the answer.

It’s not only for the living—it’s for the dead. Transcending our concepts of life and death, we must believe that they, too, can hear our farewell.

Each note we play dances into the night, a mournful melody forever entwined with the sea. In that moment, I think we all understand that our music is more than just a performance; it is a farewell to ourselves as well.

The frosty air seeps through every fiber of my being, sinking deeper into my fragile bones. My fingers, once so deft on the strings, are numb and rigid. I can barely move them. My last few, trembling notes shiver through the air, fading into silence. I can no longer feel my hands, and tears stream down my face.

“Did I do enough?” I whisper, floating in the ice-cold water, my voice barely a murmur. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response. I’m alone now, and I know these are my last minutes. I look up at the stars, the only light left, counting them one by one, feeling my body betray me. Around me, the groaning of the ship fades, as if she’s putting me to sleep, her final gift—a gentle release.

My five bandmates have already drifted into a permanent rest, their skin as pale as snow, their faces empty, yet dignified. I share this quiet moment with them, knowing it will be my last. All of us are embraced by the peace of letting go.

I shut my eyes, replaying the music in my mind to soothe myself. Memories flip through like the pages of a photo album. I see the faces of those I love, feel the warm sand beneath my feet, hear the cheering of the crowds. I cling to these images, feeling them slowly fade, scattering into the stars.

A calmness washes over me, even as the cold has taken over. I am thankful I was able to do my job, to finish it with honor. Comforting people with music is a blessing. I gave them all I had—my passion, my dream, my life.

With my violin still strapped to my chest, I hold it close, not wanting to let it die with me. And as my people surround me, I am finally able to let go.

By: Audrey Elliott ~ "Today's the Day"

It was a hot June day. The humid summer air passed into Audrey's lungs in an attempt to calm her excitement. Warmth touched her legs as she sat on the tan wicker couch. “Today's the day,” she thought, after years of convincing, it was finally happening. Audrey sat with her two sisters, waiting patiently for the doorbell to ring, listening to the sounds of the birds singing their song.

As she waited patiently outside with her dad and two sisters, she heard the doorbell ring. "Come inside, guys," her mom said with excitement and nervousness in her voice.

“Ahhhhh!” screamed Olive, Audrey's youngest sister, as she ran up the steps going up to the deck. No one noticed the deck that had become so hot you could cook an egg on it or that the neighbors planted new flowers. All they were focused on was Charlie.

Audrey's mom couldn't contain her excitement as she exclaimed, "She's in the garage!"

While Audrey walked to the garage she couldn't help but notice the butterflies in her stomach. It's finally happening, she thought as she opened the garage door. As the dog breeder pulled a crate out of the back of her car, the three sisters exchanged looks of eagerness. “Bark! Bark! Bark!” Charlie was letting out yaps of wonder and confusion.

“Here's your new puppy… Charlie!” The dog breeder said with a smile as she let the 8-week-old bundle of joy into the garage to find her new family. Olive, unable to contain her excitement, she jumped up and down. The puppy's warm paws on Audrey's soft legs almost brought her to tears. They had a dog, finally. Audrey remembered all the times she and her sisters begged for a puppy, she chuckled a little remembering the PowerPoint presentation her sister Ava put together or the long family talks about getting a dog.

“Welcome home Charlie!” Audrey said holding her close to her heart as if she may never let go. Charlie got passed around the family, each one saying how soft and cuddly she was.

As we walked through the house to the backyard Charlie looked around as if she knew this was where she was going to be. This was going to be her home. When Charlie was outside she ran around the yard with so much zeal, she was eager to see where she was going to be living. Upon discovering the waterfall, the little golden retriever was captivated by its beauty. After playing for a few hours the puppy was so stimulated she needed a break, she found a cozy spot next to the waterfall and fell asleep. So peaceful and so cute the puppy slept there for the next two hours.

As the family showed Charlie inside, Audrey saw the crate and remembered her and her mom putting it together. “Could I have that piece?” Asked her mother “Yes Mom. Charlie’s going to love her new home” “I hope so honey”. They had put so much work and time into Charlie's new home. A pile of hand-picked toys from various stores and online shops sat by her crate. “This one I picked out for you!” Olive said showing Charlie a duck with fake feathers.

While the puppy was resting the family talked about how cute she was while eating dinner, which consisted of hot dogs, juicy watermelon, ripe tomatoes, and crispy fries. After Charlie had woken up from her nap, they gently brought her into her crate and showed her where she would sleep and the many toys she had, Audrey then carefully and lovingly put her collar on which said “Charlie: 612-741-0901” and knew in her heart this dog was going to bring their family many more wonderful memories to come.

By: Hunter Cullen ~ Lt. Dan

Lt. Dan tied his boat to the dock in the Tampa Bay Harbor. Tampa Bay was preparing for hurricane Milton which had turned into a category 5 hurricane. Lt. Dan was preparing his small white 20-foot sailboat for the storm.

Lt. Dan is a 54 year old man living on a sailboat in Tampa Bay Florida. Lt. Dan is a disabled person because he is missing a leg. When Florida was evacuated because of hurricane Milton, Lt. Dan refused to leave his boat. He had faith in God that nothing would happen to him during the hurricane.

Hurricane Milton made landfall at 8:30 p.m. Lt. Dan was in his sailboat and fighting the hurricane's heavy winds and tall waves. Lt. Dan wasn't scared of the hurricane. God was on his side.

Lt. Dan said to himself, “I can make it.” He thought, “I have seen worse, I know God will protect me.”

Hurricane Milton was a very strong hurricane. 1 to 2 weeks before, Hurricane Helene hit Tampa Bay and Lt. Dan survived Helene. Lt. Dan was a brave person to be out on a sailboat during a hurricane.

Now he is famous on social media, because he survived two hurricanes in a sailboat. God helped him survive. Lt. Dan believes that he could ride out the next storm.

By: Brelyn Mayotte ~ "New Dog"

Weeks in advance my mother told me that she was getting a puppy. When the day came around I was extremely eager to see him. Although the air was very cold I could still see the smile in everyone's eyes. The snow had pretty much melted completely off the ground and all that was left was ice that I had slipped on once or many times just to look at the puppy. I was slipping on the easiest pair of shoes I saw lying on the floor and paired them with my winter jacket. I wanted to quickly get outside and see the new puppy my mother had brought home.

Although I had barely gotten up not that long ago I was excited to meet him. I slipped on the ice once or two times before reaching him. I still had been in disbelief that my mom was coming home and bringing a new dog. I thought like this because puppies were a lot to take care of. The moments building up to waiting for my mom were so exciting.

I waited on the couch looking out the window and turning my head every noise I heard. I quickly got up when I saw her truck pull around the corner. I slipped on the easiest pair of shoes or the ones that I found on the floor first, and cautiously but not so cautiously ran across the icy driveway. My mother slipped out of the car with a tiny-looking bear (the puppy) he was adorable and had the cutest puppy belly I had ever seen.

By: Evan McCormick ~ "Concrete Jungle"

It's the fall of 2003. The sidewalks are packed, and the crunch of leaves under your shoe adds a moment of peace from the noise of the bustling City. Cars, buses, taxi cabs, and pedestrians seem to flow like a river.

Yet somehow, in this Concrete Jungle, it all seems natural, flowing rivers of Roads, constant streams of vehicles, pedestrians flowing on the side rocks daily like a stream, buildings like trees, and the air cold as ice. How I dream of seeing a real Forest.