1. My Journey as an Immigrant
... hard and difficult. I was just a little girl no more than 5 years old. I can still remember the day that my father took me by the hand and walked with me to the bus station. This is where my journey began. I did not have a clue as to what was going to happen. I was an innocent child; I ... and it was night time. I can still remember the fear and panic that ran through all of my body. The picnic never took place, it was all a lie. They had lied to me, this was not a picnic after all, and my elders had found a way to convinced me to take the long walk into the wilderness. ... good thing ...
- Word Count: 1987
- Approx Pages: 8
- Has Bibliography
- Grade Level: High School