I am taking a creative writing class to help me wiith a memoir that I am trying to write and my professor is having me write about my expierence in the third person which I am finding difficult but am working on it, I have a small piece that I have been working on and thought I would share.  Thhis is something I went through when I first started showing symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis at the age of 9 and it is written in the third person.


She slowly struggles down the hallway to her room.  With each step she looks as if she is dragging a lead weight on her right leg.  Her leg is not the only problem her and her mother discussed, it was the strength of her arm and hand as well.  Her mom had just decided to take her to the emergency room and she was on her way to her room to get dressed. 


Finally reaching her room, she begins looking for her pants and sweater because the chill from outside was starting to slowly crawl its way over her body.  Looking for these items looked to be challenging for her, each movement had her wincing in pain as little electric currents shot down her right side.  Along with this pain was the struggle of trying to hold on to what she tried to move or grab.  The weakening of her grip started a look of fear across her face.  In her whole life she had never felt anything like this.


It was taking her longer than usual to finish getting ready and she was just attempting to slide on her left glove when a knock interrupted the slow progress she was making.  The glove slipped out of her hand once again as she heard her mom ask,

“Honey, you almost ready?”

Trying to keep her voice steady she replies,

“Yes mommy, just trying to put on my glove.”

Her mom enters the room and sees her daughter slowly reaching towards the ground for the glove and asks,

“Do you need any help?”

Her voice now a little shakey she whispers,

“Yes Please.”

Her mom walks quickly towards her and  slips on the glove.  With her eyes filling up she asks her mom,

“Mommy, what is wrong with me?”

Not wanting to lie to her daughter she softly says,

“I wish I knew, that is why we are going to the hospital.”

With a heavy down pour of tears she leans into her mom and begins to sob no longer holding them back.


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