The Chains of My Name

                                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                                    Brantley Braswell
                                                                                                                                                        Cary Academy

My name is a name of much character.  It is a name of much character because it is very unique.  It stands out as if it were a seven-foot tall person in an overly crowded street.  My name is never spelled correctly.  It is never pronounced correctly the first time anyone says it.  When it is pronounced incorrectly it sounds like an orchestra on totally different notes.  My name is a soft name that glides off the tongue like a rainbow of letters.  My name is like a play; if one part is missing the whole performance crumbles.

My name comes from my father.  My father was like a cloud.  He floated high in the sky and would never stay put.  He was a strong man going around freely and doing whatever pleased him at that particular moment.  My mother chained him down to Earth, and he has never broken the chains that my mother has burdened him with.  The biggest chain of his life was his first son, me Brantley Braswell.  He has tried and tried to break the chain of marriage that my mother put on him.  The more he pulled, the tighter the chain would become.  Finally, out of the goodness of her heart, my mother set him free.  The chain of me, he never eluded.  I will always be chained to him.  I will be chained to him not only through name, but also through character.  I inherited free will from him and a very laid back attitude. 

Brantley is an odd sounding name with a hint of vibrancy in it.  My name is the sunset over the ocean.  The more you listen to my name the more beautiful it becomes.  My name just seems to slide off of the tongue.  It trickles out of your mouth like the blood of a watermelon as you consume its wonderful flesh.  My name can also be made into pain and suffering when said incorrectly.  If energy is not put into my name then the name seems dead.  My name without energy is like a body without a skeleton limp and useless.  Without energy it seems as if the person saying my name has millions of razor sharp daggers slowly and painfully inserted into their tongue.  My name needs energy, like a soccer team needs a coach.  My name relies on energy to move it along and to get the point across. 

  My name is like a moist and delicious chocolate layer cake.  The cake was designed to be delicious.  Without any one of the components, the cake will be a disaster.