All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Her Hazel Eyes
(The Cop)
The light flashed before my eyes. The beautiful white light that everyone sees when they die. I glimpsed back to reality, my uniform was mangled with red sticky blood, the sergeant badge was barely visible. The suspect had fled long ago, after stealing $1000 from a bank. I took out my wallet and looked at pictures of my family. Tears ran down my face as I realized I would never see my daughter’s hazel eyes, or my wife’s affectionate smile again.
“I love you guys so much” I whispered as I closed my eyes and pictured her smile until there was darkness.
(The Robber)
What have I done? I had gone into that bank with the goal of stealing $50,000, but instead left with $1000, and a gun with one less bullet. A simple robbery had just turned into a murder. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and when my finger pressed upon the trigger I was shocked. When the bullet hit the man I flinched. The echoing sound of the gun, along with the terrified look on his face made me fall to the floor. I considerd going and helping him, but what could I have done without him sending me to jail? I have a daughter to support. Without looking back, I turned and sprinted home.
My daughter greeted me.
“Dadda” she exclaimed, as she embraced my legs. I picked her up and peered into her hazel eyes. I felt a sudden sensation of guiltiness. The man I shot had the same hazel eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if he had a daughter that wasn’t smiling and holding her father as my daughter was. I looked at my daughter with a tender smile on my face. What type of person do you want her to become?
“I’m sorry baby girl, but dadda has to go”. Her hazel eyes pierced me, but I knew what I had to do. I grabbed the bag of money and walked toward the police station.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
This piece was written in my 11th grade Composition class.