My Parents Were Members of a Cult †This is My Story :: Personal Narrative Writing

My Parents Were Members of a Cult This is My StoryThere, in the far corner of the room, crouched a little girl. She had sad, brown eyes that were welling all over with enormous tear drops. Whats wrong? I asked soothingly. Her only response was a sniffle as if she didnt hear. I couldnt reach her I didnt know how. Frantically, I began screaming and yelling, waving my arms violently in the air. Why wouldnt she regard at me? What was wrong with this child? My parents were divorced when I was only two. I was too young to realize what had happened. Their separation had little effect on me at the time, but I would later realize how much this had breach me. I was left to live with my mother and my older sister. Within a few years, my mom met a man named Arthur. He was a musician. They began sightedness a lot of each other and at long last decided to attract the knot. I dressed in pink with pig tails safekeeping my golden locks back from my face. I looked standardized an angel, but b ehind this gratifying face was pain and suffering that would eventually surface as a teenager. This little piggy ran all the way home, teased my rude(a) step-father as he tickled me. It didnt take long to warm up to this guy. existence so young, I dont think I realized that he wasnt my father. I was a kid, nothing affected me so when my mother stopped attack home at night, I didnt worry. Church became a regular turning at the Drummond household. Prayer in the morning, at night, chapters and chapters of the Bible, speaking in tongues, the holy place Spirit. These were things that we became accustomed to. I would hear my mother speaking in tongues. To me, it sounded like a foreign language. I could never understand what she was saying. It was almost shivery to see my mother screaming these strange words, but I eventually got use to it. Day after day, I started seeing little and less of my mother. She and my stepfather devoted all of their time to the church. It was called Chri st Church in Action. forwards long, we were packing our bags and heading to Smithfield. It was a place I had never perceive of, but would later learn to love. We moved so that we could be walk-to(prenominal) to the church.