Cailin's story--The First Battle

Cailin has been busy writing again for her writing class at Classical Conversations. Here's one she recently wrote about the first battle of the Revolutionary War.  Their prompt was to write about the "Shot heard 'round the world."  this is what she came up with.

The First Battle

 

Maria Harrison’s life was a fairly content life. Maria was happy with her family, particularly her father, for he had just finished writing a book, 237 pages, in which he had explained all about the life of a farmer in the colonies in the 1700’s. It was titled, Life of a Farmer.  It was great.

   “I have so much more to do with it, though!” Father had quickly explained to Maria, for she had believed that it was complete. “It has not quite gone under publishing, nor has it had any editing done to it. But I do hope we grow some prosperity from it.”

   Nevertheless, she knew her father was proud of his work and she was proud of it and him, too. She believed that its success was inevitable.  

   Her family mainly consisted of her father and mother, who were named John and Lucy Harrison, Maria Harrison, and her younger brothers, Jack, William, and Adam. Adam was the youngest, not quite a one year old, and barely able to toddle along on his fat little feet even when someone held his hands.

   Maria had a peacefully serene life. In her family, she knew she was safe. She was a quick learner, so it was no trouble for her to be able to learn to do everything a perfect housewife, such as her mother, could do. She was a great reader! Her mother and father were a bit angry at the king, about the taxes, though, and believed that something ought to be done about it. Yet they didn’t think that they should go and rebel against him. They had a happy life. They were a great family. They didn’t consider the thought of anything out of the ordinary happening. They were that sort of people, quiet, kind, courteous, and always, no matter what happened, followed the rules, even when they disagreed with them.

   Quickly, however, something would upset the happy household.

   Fights between the colonists and the English soldiers had happened often. They believed strongly that King George was taking away their right to govern themselves. Maria and her family disagreed with the king, but knew the king would never set a law for them if he had no reason to. But, still, the angry colonists had decided that they would make a stand for their freedom and had begun to store up ammunition in case the English soldiers, or the red coats, should attack.

   On a cool day in April, Maria and her family were beginning to cook up dinner. The sun was setting in the west and the sky was now a pearly gray. The sun was a ball of fire that shot its last helpless rays of golden sun across the world in a desperate attempt to put out more light in its short time to give it each day. Maria sliced up an onion, her nose held high so its stench did not touch her. Her eyes watered.

   Beside the door, Father read through the papers of his book. His spectacles were low on his nose, almost to the point that they would fall into the floor.

   Suddenly, a howl erupted into the cool blackness of the new night. Twilight air flooded into the house as Father opened the front door swiftly and gazed into the night.

   “The British are coming!” A voice screeched loudly. There was a flash of brown as something streaked past the house, the whole way screaming, “The British are coming!”

   Scarily, Father quietly shut the door and faced us. William began to complain that everyone was too loud.

   Father, who normally scolded little William for speaking irritably, did not say a word to him. “Lucy,” Father’s voice was grave and his face grim. “The English have finally taken a stand against us.” Maria couldn’t tell what was wrong with the British coming, yet she knew that it was not a decent matter at all. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“We need to hide. There will be disturbing things and sounds outside. However, Lucy, it is imperative that we stay inside. You never know what will happen. Some of those Minutemen are too headstrong for their own safety.”

  “But they wouldn’t dare provoke the English!” Mother cried loudly enough for all to hear. 

   Father’s face instantly became even more grave and sorrowful than before. But now it had an

edge of…desperation to it. Yes, something was wrong. But it was far more than just that.

Something dreadful was about to happen. Maria just wished she knew what it was.

   “Children!” Mother cried. “It is time for bed.”

  Jack complained loudly. “But Mama, ‘tis not even supper!”

   “It does not matter.” Mother’s voice was scared and high. “Get into your beds and do not move from them whatever you hear. I shall come to check on you later, in the morning. Do not move until then.”

   Adam began to cry.

   Swiftly, Father picked him up and took William by the hand and crossed the room to the stairs. “We will be in bed.” He glanced at Mother, who smiled and nodded.

   Maria, who was proficient at luring Jack into doing what he needed to, decided to help her mother by coaxing her brother to bed.

   “Jack!” She cried. “First one in bed is the winner!”

   Jack jumped to his feet, for he had been resting on a chair only a bit before. “Oh, yes!” He scurried away.

   Mother grinned at Maria, but Maria didn’t see her. She was running up the stairs to Jack.

   After all the boys were fast asleep in bed, Maria found herself staring up at the ceiling in her own bedroom. She tossed and turned, wondering just what would happen. She promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep…wouldn’t fall…asleep…fall…asleep…

  “YOU WOULD NEVER!” screamed a voice. “IN THE NAME OF ALL TRUE ENGLISHMEN, LOWER YOUR GUNS!”

   Maria woke with a start. Predawn light drifted through her curtains and into the room. Shouts echoed around the area. Maria tugged her blankets and sheets off her and struggled to her feet. Her eyes drooped. She wanted ever so much to just sleep again, but she knew that she could never sleep again if she did not know what was happening.

   Quickly, she rushed to her window. A huge mass of people, separated by a bare space of earth, cluttered the field beneath her window.

   “King George would never approve of this!” The red coated men, obviously English soldiers,

kept mumbling, but one uttered the words loudly enough for Maria to hear. She pulled her

window open.

  “Ye rebels!” yelled a new voice. “If ye do not back down, you shall be made to!”

   “NEVER!” screamed all the brave Patriots, or the minutemen.

   BANG! There was a loud shot of a gun and then every man began to clobber each other. Guns fired. Shots echoed. People fought.

 After a few minutes of fighting, the fighting subsided and the crowd stepped back. Eight minutemen lay on the ground, dead. Around the men, who had been killed, the grass was stained blood red. A few men on the other side limped and leaned on another soldier.

   “Do ye give?” The hostile British officer yelled.

   “NEVER!” The minutemen screamed again. The fighting continued. They fought like a pack of wolves against a pack of wolves—except these wolves had gained guns and the knowledge of how to use them.

  Quickly, the fighting moved away from Maria’s window. She was right. Something dreadful had happened.

   Yet she knew that this would not be the end of it. This was the first battle in a series of many.