My Story of the Lost Child Narrative Essay

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His words kept ringing in my ears. The message was just half absorbed when I realized the magnitude of what I had done. It seemed like yesterday when I answered daddy back . Now, in the eyes of my family ,in the eyes of society even in my own eyes. I was a misfit ,doomed to be goner. Tears welled in my eyes as the words were recalled, ‘Child, you have taken the wrong path . You are lost Here I was just 17, an age when teenagers were just being exposed to the realities of adulthood and I had thrown my life away wasted the love showered on me, and taken a path I would forever regret.

But just 24 months ago, they were the best friends one could have. It seemed that fun was alright. Everything we did was fun. Hell-riding when shadows were long,maki8ng video arcades my homeб whishing at girls… My parent’s advice fell on deaf ears. Books and studies were my prime enemy. ’Freedom’, those friends or mine called it so engrossed was I, basking in my world of ‘freedom’, that I failed to see the walls of justice closing in on me. Late night developed into early mornings, sometimes I would not go home at all and then they introduced cigarettes.

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My voice of conscience was buried beneath the promise of more ‘freedom’. I saw less and less of my family I only went home for meals. Quarrels was the only form of communication. It was then that I was introduced to stealing. It was fun initially, like everything else I did, fun of cause it was challenging. But my hands soon become light and longer. I realized I did not need my family anymore, all those meaningless admonishments ,those baseless advice and they thing they called love and security. So I ran away from home, cutting all ties with my relatives and dropped out from school.

I was now a professional in stealing. My life slowly rose in comfort, built on a house of cards. I could get as much as $100 a day. One day ,I was caught stealing. I know this day would come, in fact I longed for it. Now, I could show my gang who was the toughest and bravest, The man who caught me was old. Easier still! I revealed a dagger and calmly sounded a treat. This guy was a pushover and it was no problem at all. Slowly I grow in confidence at my ‘abilities’. My horizons now covered extorting mugging and break-ins.

It reached on extend when I believed in what I was doing I could prove my parents wrong who said you needed a degree and honestly to bring you to the top? I started making new ‘friends’, bigger and more dangerous. I wanted a new identity ,not the goody- goody image that labeled me before. But what I wanted was not going to be served on a sliver platters. I was handed a challenge, to go and take money right in front of my parents’ eyes. This, they said, would divorce me once and for all from my family. This would strengthen the vow of independence. Secretly, I wished my parents would try to stop me.

Come on dada my heart invited as I walked down the road to my house. Come on ! shout or me ! sudden surge of nervousness gripped me as I opened the front gate. But I quickly pushed it aside. I chided myself for being a soffie . Suddenly, I felt a strange quietness that blanketed the house. Everything was as usual, except for a small candle that shone through the front window. AS I peered through, the picture of my father was seen on top on the house altar. My mind buzzed with confusion, flooded with questions. It was then that I felt the heavy hand of gather lifted on my shoulder and the fateful condemnation…

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