Call narration

Everyone has the experience of writing a composition, so you are familiar with it, especially the narrative, which is more common. Narrative is about what you have seen and heard in your life, and the author's true feelings about life. So what does a good narrative look like? The following is a description of the call I compiled for you, for reference only. Welcome to read it.

Call narrative 1 Mother's call is a gentle language, which makes our body and mind feel warm.

Just last week, I was going back to school the night before. I want to go back to school without a quilt because of the arrival of cold air. I suddenly heard the phone ring. As soon as I answered the phone, my mother said, "You will take the quilt back to school tomorrow!" " I just said "Oh", and my mother told me again and hung up the phone immediately. Afterwards, I went back to my room and took out the quilt. I finally put it in the car and tied it up.

The next morning, I returned to school. It was really cold that night. Some students didn't bring quilts back, and they all said it was cold at night. But I feel very comfortable and warm, all because my mother's teaching keeps me warm. Make me happy.

Mother's call is a sincere hope, and she hopes that we can unite and live in peace.

Taiwan Province Province is a part of China. But a shallow strait separates mother and son. Out of reach. The mother kept calling her son across the channel to ask him to come back. It's just like the lyrics in "Clouds in Hometown", "... Come back, come back, vagabond ..." Isn't Taiwan Province Province a vagabond? She's wandering alone outside the strait, and she doesn't have the care of a mother's love. Shouldn't she go home? "Taiwan Province Province, my son, come back quickly, and the door of home will always be open for you!" The mother made an affectionate phone call to her son. Taiwan Province Province, did you hear that? Come back!

Mother's phone call is a touching reminder. She reminded us to protect the environment.

Now the environmental pollution of the earth is becoming more and more serious. Especially "white pollution". People use plastic products without restraint, which leads to a lot of silver hair in an instant. Do you have a son who wants his mother to be white-haired? Industrial waste gas is sprayed into the sky unscrupulously, causing a "black hole" in the ozone layer over Antarctica. Do people want to make their mother who has been raised for thousands of years black and blue? Listen, mom, she's moaning and calling us. Shouldn't you answer mom with practical actions? Should we let her down?

My friend, my mother's call comes from love, hope and pain. Let's listen to mom's call! !

Call narrative 2 I was born in a remote mountainous area, about 5 miles away from home, and there is only one primary school. I spent my childhood in this remote village. My father took me to a school with only two simple classrooms, but I was lucky. My father regards me as the apple of his eye and leaves me the best food. I am the only girl in the class who wears a skirt. My classmates all envy me for having a good father, and I am proud of having such a good father.

Father's love accompanied me to grow up. When I was in the fourth grade, my father sent me to the primary school where my hometown was located. Because of the distance, I began to live on campus. The environment has changed, and so have the classmates around us. When they talk about what kind of secretary and director my father is, and there are tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of deposits at home, I dare not say my father, because my father is an ordinary farmer.

Last Wednesday, the spring rain continued.

After school in the afternoon, all the students in the same dormitory have rain gear, and they all go home with rice and vegetables. I also wanted to go home and get rice and vegetables, but I accidentally didn't bring rain gear. Facing the continuous rain and muddy mountain roads, I hesitated. What should I do? Let's wait a little longer. Maybe this spring rain will stop soon.

The campus is extremely quiet. Several students in my class also accompany me to school. Suddenly, there were hurried footsteps outside the school gate. I looked up outside the school gate and saw a middle-aged man who was over half a century old and hunched. Although the drizzle made me unable to see his face clearly, the familiar figure made me know that he was my father. Dad came into the school panting. He was soaked to the skin, but the bag he was carrying was not wet at all. The bag is wrapped in plastic cloth and held tightly in your arms. His shoes are covered with mud, and so are his trousers. At first glance, he looks like a hillbilly. I know what he is doing. He came to deliver rice and vegetables to me. My eyes are moist, but at the same time a very uneasy mood rises in my heart. Because, I am afraid that my classmates will ask me, your father is like this. I have always been a decent person. If they see me, where should I put my face? At this time, if I am at home, I will call my father affectionately and even jump into his arms. But here, in front of these classmates, I can't call my father, or even complain about what he is doing at school. Let my classmates see my father's respect, and then my dignity will be all over. Dad came to see me. He looked up and looked at me blankly when he saw me unhappy. He seems to understand something. He handed me the bag, turned slowly and disappeared in the rain without saying a word. I hurried back to the dormitory, trying to sing a song to drive away the unhappiness just now, but I couldn't sing it. Dad's lost eyes just now always appear in my mind. What will dad think when he gets home? Maybe his heart is bleeding, maybe I hope this week will pass quickly, let me go home quickly, let me jump into my father's arms quickly, and then call him. Today is Friday, and my greatest wish will come true soon. Unfortunately, something happened. My mother came to school early this morning and told me, Fenger, your father got an acute illness yesterday and was admitted to the county hospital. Please ask for leave and go to see your father with your mother. My heart sank and I regretted it. I know, dad is sick for me!

We hurried to the county hospital and walked into the ward, only to see dad's eyes closed, his face pale, his forehead wrinkles deepened and his white hair increased a lot. I walked quickly to my father's bedside and gave a deep cry: Dad, dad's unconscious dad, although I couldn't hear his daughter's late call, I clearly saw two crystal tears hanging in his wrinkled eyes.

Call Narration 3 Dress up in the scorching sun to attend the summer afternoon. The leaves of Cinnamomum camphora are very thick and there is sunshine everywhere. The cicada is still tirelessly calling for the summer when the skirt rises, just like I am calling for you. I squatted in front of the bed in the intensive care unit, calling for you at the top of my voice, dad. Between heaven and earth, it seems that there is only the sound of tears slamming on the ground, mixed with my trembling voice and your heavy breathing, polishing the gloom that should not have happened when it suddenly rained heavily in the summer afternoon. You seem to hear my call, one after another &; Others; Dad, I tried to open my eyes, but in the end there was only one tear left, which fell quietly, like falling into a deep nightmare.

This is the truest call in the wilderness of life. I followed it, clenching my fist secretly.

On the night of early autumn, the night is like water, cicadas sing low, and the wind swings with the night. I fell at your window, half asleep, and heard you calling my name. With a cry, a light flashed in the darkness in the distance; Two sounds, dead leaves are green; Three times, the world shines and floats. Your mobile phone is trembling slightly and your voice is hoarse, daughter. It's like reading a hit-and-run symbol. I seem to have returned to my childhood in spring, and I quickly replied, as if I had made a lifelong proposition.

That's the call I care most about for the rest of my life. With it, I shed tears silently.

In the middle of winter, heaven and earth are covered with a white curtain by invisible hands. Take one step and your steps will collide with the cold. I left a series of shallow footprints in the snow because I was in a hurry to go home. I looked back and saw that your clothes were bloated, but it was hard to hide your thinness and your breathing was heavy. Those hazy fog, like the curtain of life, blocked the frozen air. Speak slowly to me, my father can't keep up with the depth. In the vast snow, you labored through the crowd, so clumsy and funny, but it made me cry.

When you called me, I stood in the dirty snow and cried like a child.

That is the most helpless call of life in the vast snow, and I will follow it and run to you firmly.

In this life, the snow is long and the sky is far away, and I will hear your stupid call.

I have only listened to your call for fourteen years, but your desire and love will accompany me through the sunrise and dusk of the rest of my life.

Call Narration 4 Grandpa passed away forever, leaving me endless thoughts and countless memories. I held the pen in my hand and wept silently … ..

Grandpa's impression is too clear in my memory. That scene often appears in front of my eyes and seems to have been deeply imprinted in my mind. I want to hide it, but I can't. It seems that grandpa's haggard voice is enlightening me and making me think deeply. ...

I'll never forget that day. I heard that grandpa had a tumor in his stomach, so he couldn't eat anything and couldn't take care of himself. We hurried to visit grandpa, and when we arrived at his house, I was shocked. Grandpa looked extremely weak, as if God could take his life at any time, because he had no ability to resist and collapsed in bed beyond recognition. Originally sallow face added a little paleness and became thinner. It's just skinny, my mouth keeps creaking and my eyes are dim. I can't believe what I witnessed is true. I hope this scene is fictional, in an unreachable dream, but it's not. It exists mercilessly and objectively. ...

Grandma took us to another room and told us that grandpa's illness was very serious and the tumor had deteriorated. When I heard that grandpa can only eat one glass of milk every day, my heart was shocked: Oh, my God! He is a doctor, and the most glorious thing in his life is to overcome his illness. Today, however, he suffers from the most hated disease in his life. Why? Why? A question mark filled my mind. I hid behind the door and looked at grandpa through the gap. He is still pale. After all, blood is thicker than water. After all, he is my grandfather. After all, he is a relative. I can't stop this relationship. Unconsciously, tears came out. I tried to restrain them, but I couldn't help crying. In the twilight, I seem to hear my grandfather calling me. I hurried forward. It's just my illusion. ..

I feel an inexplicable coolness when people go to the empty building; Broken thoughts, I hold the pen in my hand, as if vaguely seeing the back of a tall old man, so familiar and kind. ...

Call for Narration 5 The wind rustling in the treetops, the sound of water splashing stones, the melodious singing of birds in the treetops, the crooning of crickets beside the grass, and the frolicking of children at the entrance to the village are all the voices of my hometown.

My hometown is very ordinary. There are no towering mountains, endless grasslands and rough seas, but my hometown has its own tranquility and serenity.

I still remember when I was a child, I always liked to explore in this huge village. Climbing up the tall branches, listening to the rustling of the breeze blowing through the branches, driving the leaves to dance, and the sun shining through the leaves, it is very warm and comfortable. Holding a book at this time, you can spend the whole morning on this tall branch. My brother and sister and I went fishing in a small lake, but we were caught by shrimp. Finally, I was soaked to the skin, with mud on my feet, carrying an empty bucket, crying all over the village and going home in a mess. Chasing chickens and driving ducks but straying into other people's fields, I was scolded by a dialect I didn't understand ... the voice of my hometown echoed in my mind, how kind. But what I like best is running under a tree by the water, leaning against a tall tree, staying there all day, listening to birds singing during the day, watching ants move home bit by bit, and catching ladybugs on the grass with their hands, but I was shocked by dancing butterflies and honey bees. At noon, I looked for the treasure under the stone in the stream, listening to the water singing cheerful songs. From time to time, a few flat stones will be found to throw the water out. It is convenient and interesting to watch the stones flying on the water and listen to the sound of water splashing cheering for the stones. In the afternoon, on my way home, I read my favorite books and listened to the small talk of adults after busy farm work by the twilight of the sunset. At night, accompanied by crickets and oilers, I look up at the sky that belongs only to me and count the shining stars. The voice of my hometown rings in my ears.

It was the sound of leaves dancing with the wind; It is the sound of birds and insects playing together; That is the sound of streams and stones playing; That's the shining sound of the moon and stars; All this is the voice of my hometown.

Now I live far away from home. These two places are very different but each has its own beauty. Here, I am floating in the neon ocean and living at an extremely fast pace. But the voice of my hometown has been calling me. The people and scenery in my hometown are quiet and lively. Everything about you is a symbol of beauty. Listen to your own voice and find your own taste. Your voice is always calling me.

Call 6 "Xiaoyu, go home for dinner …" Whenever I see grandma's kind face in photos, this familiar call rings in my ears.

I spent my childhood at my grandmother's house. At that time, my grandparents were over 60 years old, and my grandmother's main task was to take care of me. Although my grandmother can't read, she cooked a big meal. When it was time to eat, grandma called me at the door: "Xiaoyu, go home for dinner ..." Hearing this familiar voice, I remembered the delicious meal. I am playing outside with my friends. I crossed my legs and ran home. I accidentally washed the mud off my hands and put my little hand into the bowl of food. "Delicious, delicious." I chewed my cheeks while enjoying the vegetables. Grandma saw me gobbling, and her face was full of love.

Every afternoon, my grandfather teaches me to write. The small blackboard for writing is made of small wooden doors by grandma. Grandma was not idle when I was studying. She sharpened my pencil for a while and was busy doing housework for a while. Grandma is very handy. She will make many toys for me. I like grandma's cloth tiger best. A piece of cloth, a pile of cotton and a needle can be turned into a magical cloth tiger in grandma's hand for a while. Although the workmanship is not refined, in my opinion, it has been enough for my friends to envy and marvel for a while. Grandma can also make wooden guns. I often carry this wooden gun in the wheat field in the east of the village. The gun broke his arm and leg. Grandma always complained that guns were useless, and then she made me one. At the end of the meal, of course, there will always be a familiar name: "Xiaoyu, go home for dinner."

In a blink of an eye, I reached the school age and followed my parents to study in the town. There are too many new things in the town, my study task is getting heavier and heavier, and the opportunity to see my grandmother is gradually decreasing. Suddenly one day, my grandfather called my mother, and I vaguely heard on the phone that my grandmother was ill. I was scared to see my mother's eyes red. My mother said to me, "Xiaoyu, my grandmother is ill." Don't worry, your grandmother will get better gradually. "Hearing these words, I didn't think much, and my heart returned to the calm of the past. But I don't know, my grandmother is terminally ill, and my grandmother won't let my mother tell me.

A few months later, my mother took me to my grandmother's house with red eyes. Standing in countless wreaths, I was scared silly. Is grandma not good? Go away. What do you mean? I ran into the house and cried for grandma. No one answered, but I saw the cold portrait of grandma in the photo frame. I stayed there motionless, and tears as big as peas fell down. Looking at grandma's kind face, I remembered the familiar call in my ear: "Xiaoyu, go home for dinner."

Grandma, I'm in grade six now. Did you have a good time in heaven? How I want to hear your repeated call to me: "Xiaoyu, go home for dinner ..."

It was an ordinary night. Before going to bed, my mother brought me a cup of warm water from the water purifier as usual. While drinking water, I asked my mother, "Mom, why is the spring water in Changbai Mountain that we drank last time sweet, but the water in our house has a strange smell?" My mother touched my head and said, "It's late today. When I have time to tell you the story of water when my mother was a child, it tastes very sweet. " I listened to my mother's words and fell asleep slowly. In my dream, I came to a strange place and strange things happened.

This is a strange world, full of yellow grass and dry branches, the air is filled with rancid smell, and there is no one around. My hair stood on end with fear. I walked along a bright path and soon came to a river. What a nice river it is! The river is black and shiny. There are all kinds of rubbish and dead fish floating on the river. The breeze blew, and a strong smell came to the nose. What's wrong with this river? While I was meditating, a faint cry came.

"Who is crying?" I shouted.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Do you still want to persecute me? " A weak but angry voice asked.

"I'm ChiReXi, where are you? I can't see you. " I'm really scared. Ask quickly.

"I am the river in front of you. Can't you see me?" I suddenly understood that it was the river talking to me.

"What's the matter with you? Are you sick? Are you afraid of me? " I keep asking.

"I become like this is not your human masterpiece? My mother is from the Yangtze River. When my mother was polluted to the last minute, she wanted to divert me here, in order to leave the last clean water for mankind. However, human beings do not repent, and continue to discharge the sewage from factories into my body. Some people throw plastic bags and decoration garbage into my stomach, as well as all kinds of domestic garbage. But at the same time, humans also use my water to water crops. The evaporated water vapor turned into poisonous rain and returned to the earth. Flowers, trees, crops and fruit trees are all poisoned. You eat poisonous food and gradually become extinct. I haven't seen humans for a long time. "

"What year is it now? Can all this be saved? " After listening to Blackie's words, I don't know why I feel terrible. I seem to have lost something. I wonder what else I can do.

"I don't remember what year it was. My mother left me for a long time. If I could start over, I would never leave my mother. Good boy, if you want to save all this, you should ... "The bell rang and I woke up from my dream.

"mom! Mom! Come on! " I yelled!

"Baby, what's the matter with you? Why are you crying? Did you have a nightmare? " My mother came over and asked me while wiping her tears. I told my mother this dream, and she comforted me that it was just a dream, but I kept pestering my mother to tell me the story of water when she was a child, and why the water was sweet at that time. Through my mother's description, I know what her living environment was like when she was a child. At that time, water was drinkable and sweet. For an instant, I seemed to understand, I seemed to know what Blackie had not finished.

If I want to save everything that happened in my dream, I will spread the sad and angry voice of the river to every corner of the world, calling on human beings to care for the environment, save energy and protect water resources, and never let our mother river be separated from her children again. All this should start from a young age, starting from me. We must respond to the call of the country, do a good job in CD-ROM action and garbage sorting, and we must not let the tragedy in our dreams repeat itself.

It pains me to see Er Qiao in pain. I am really afraid that Er Qiao's life will be scattered with the autumn wind, and a budding bud will be strangled by the ruthless reality.

Er Qiao is my beloved student. The melon face with regular facial features and eyes like ripe black grapes are humorous. He is quick-thinking, and often weaves a sentence and an unwritten poem with a pair of tender little hands, vividly telling the unfortunate life experience of Er Qiao.

Er Qiao's family is the poorest farmer in that poor mountain village.

Unfortunately, Er Qiao is another child with congenital heart disease. She came into this world with a broken heart. Her arrival not only failed to bring dawn and hope to the poor family, but also plunged the family into the abyss of despair.

When Er Qiao was a few years old, poor parents raised money to take Er Qiao to Kunming Children's Hospital for treatment. However, due to various expenses of tens of thousands of yuan, there is no way to treat it, so I have to go home.

Although doctors have repeatedly stressed that Er Qiao's injured heart should be repaired as soon as possible, Er Qiao's heart has never been repaired because she is 1 1 years old. Er Qiao's life also hangs in mid-air.

Call narrative 9 In the journey of life, this call is a spring flower, a clear spring in summer, a fruit in autumn, a fire in winter, the sweetest song and the most touching poem.

On that day in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I ran to my grandmother's house early in the morning, with bright lilacs in my hand. Grandma, do you live well in the other world? Do you hear your granddaughter calling you every day? My tears rolled down my cheeks involuntarily, remembering.

Grandma, you cheated. My grandmother and I are fighting the landlord! Grandma looked at me with gentle eyes and said that my granddaughter will be good to me when she grows up. I smiled and looked at my grandmother, only to find that her hair was gray and her eyes were blurred.

When I was a child, I always liked to snuggle up in my grandmother's arms and listen to her tell me stories. I listened quietly. She told me a joke and we laughed together.

Grandma likes planting flowers in the yard. Grandma likes lilacs as much as her mother. She took care of them carefully, as if her joys and sorrows were connected with Xiaohua. We also named them the flower of happiness in this basin, the flower of protection in this basin and the flower of protection in another basin. As for why, only we know.

When I was older, my grandmother stopped hugging me, but held hands and talked about my life and my ideals. Grandma told me about her life experience and how to tell right from wrong.

Happy time is always so short, I can't help but burst into tears when I recall the past scenes. On the day grandma died, the lilacs also fell. Flowers, are you also celebrating grandma's sudden departure and crying?

Holding lilacs in my hand, I stood in front of grandma's grave, tears soaked my cheeks and watched the lilacs in front of grandma's grave bloom so beautifully. Grandma, you must be very happy in that world! You must know that I miss you, right? I stood at grandma's grave for a long time, letting the wind blow my hair.

I looked up at the sky, wiped my tears, smiled and shouted at the sky: Grandma, you must be happy!

Telephone narration 10 The canal is beautiful and quiet. The sparkling sunshine on the water and the green trees on both sides constitute a distant and quiet landscape.

My home is in this beautiful landscape painting. However, since the construction of the commercial center and subway station near my home began, the residents here have completely lost their quiet life. The construction time of the site is 24 hours a day from day to night. No matter whether it is windy or rainy, it will produce huge noise every day, including during the Spring Festival. At night, the noise caused by high-speed driving and unloading of heavy trucks carrying building materials seriously affects the normal rest of people in surrounding residential areas. I suffered from it, too. I should finish my homework in a quiet environment when I get home every day, but I can only cover my ears with my left hand and do my homework with my right hand. Especially after washing, the whole world quieted down, leaving only the harsh noise from the excavator echoing in the ear. This situation has greatly reduced my sleep quality, and I have no spirit in class during the day. How I hope the government can strengthen the management of urban noise. For example, construction at night is prohibited in construction sites, and necessary noise elimination and vibration reduction measures are taken for mechanical equipment. The construction with noise exceeding the specified distribution must be evaluated by the environmental protection department, and the noise control at the construction site must be carried out by designated personnel, and vehicles are not allowed to drive at high speed at night.

If the managers of our city really take measures to reduce noise, and every resident of our city takes action to resist any noise-making behavior, then our home will be quiet and beautiful as soon as possible.

Call narrative 1 1 wind wrinkles a pool of spring water.

Circles of ripples flow rhythmically to the other side of the pond, setting off lazy lotus flowers. As if touched by electricity, he raised his head and floated in the wind. Touch the stones by the pool, get together and ripple back. At this time, the happiest thing is the fish in the pool. In winter, they have never kissed the spring breeze so closely and felt the fragrance in the wind. They are swimming around in the pool, and the waves stirred by the wind are intertwined, which is really beautiful. The pool is alive, the breeze brings the breath of spring, and everything is revived and full of vitality.

It was drizzling, and the fish jumped out of the water happily; The breeze is blowing gently, and the swallows slant across the sky.

Riding the wind, swallows came back from the south one after another, and the sky became lively. Throughout the winter, songbirds sounded the first drum of spring, and the magpies here sang in the trees for fear of losing to songbirds. Sing here, and then go up. Cheerful songs converge into a smart symphony, like a big net, stretching out in the sky. Birds are everywhere, and they seem to be calling for sleepy companions. Don't live up to this beautiful spring. A gust of wind messed up the birds' feathers and awakened their dreams.

Green locusts and high willows, swallows and new cicadas, and smoke from kitchen chimneys first entered the string.

Between the eyebrows and eyes, there is a touch of sadness. A gust of wind blew up the manuscript on the table, sighed, and even the wind wiped it off, no longer frivolous. She leaned over and paced up and down the room. Time has stood still, such a light pace, such a sad melancholy. The wind is listening and sighing her poems in the wind; The wind carried her prayers in the wind.

Drunk wind makes people drunk.

Breeze is the messenger of spring and brocade. It is a naughty fish, swimming around in a pool of spring water; It is a swift swallow, piercing the spring sky; Is a melancholy daughter, bringing the sadness of spring; It's a bottle of hard liquor, and people get drunk when they smell it. They reveled in her gentle palm and daydreamed in it. If people don't provoke it, it will provoke people. Get drunk, get drunk. If there is only spirit, it will be less elegant and gentle; If it is just the wind, it will lose the sweetness and simplicity of wine. The wind is not intoxicating, but people are intoxicating.

The breeze calls for spring, with fish swimming freely, lotus fragrance and swallows flying obliquely.

The breeze calls for lovely people, with the tenderness and dismay of spring and the sadness of missing.

The breeze calls for floating thoughts, so I praise and sing the breeze.

Call Narration 12 Take a nap in the warm cradle-grassland: grow up under the kind smiling face-the sky, and bathe in the river, the source of love. What really tests our contribution to the environment is not words, but actions, starting from ourselves and starting from the little things around us. In life, drive a private car less once; Take the subway less once; Turn on the air conditioner less once; Using less paper is a low-carbon life.

Once I went for a walk in the park, where there used to be green trees and rivers gurgling, but now there is only a pungent smell; Clusters of withered grass, but passers-by seem to see nothing, so there are still many. But such a thing is more important than anything else. One day, I went to play by the river and saw a lot of rubbish lying across the aisle. I bent down to pick up a bag of rubbish. At first glance, they are all snack bags. I think these people really don't pay attention to environmental protection. I looked aside and suddenly saw a girl my age picking up these white rubbish with a small bucket. Later, I went up to her and asked her why she did it, but she said, "As a human being, it is of course an unshirkable obligation to practice and maintain a low-carbon life."

Since I met that girl's behavior, I have also joined the practice and kept a low-carbon life. During the weekend, I sorted out a lot of books, all of which were used before but not used up. Some of them were only half used, and some of them wrote a few pages. I tore up the used ones and bound the unused ones into thick notebooks. Later, I classified them all and got a math book, which can be used to make mistakes and improve my math scores. There is a Chinese book that I can use to write a draft composition and keep a diary. There is also an English book, which I can use to remember words. These are as good as new and useful to all of us. In the later days, I didn't do a math problem with a piece of exercise paper as before. I don't use many new exercise books, but I am very economical. I used everything I could, and I didn't waste every piece of paper.