Charlemagne the Great
Late at night the darkness overtook the sky. Charlemagne lay in bed asleep, letting his dreams take over. That night a bright but small figure approached his bed.The angel shook Charlemagne very lightly, just enough to startle him awake. He woke, frightened of what he saw until he saw the full figure. The small angel amazed him. In a light but powerful voice shesaid, ''I'm Elizabeth."
A deep voice from a 6'4" man who was Charlemagne said, "Why have you come to me, Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth motioned him closer; Charlemagne leaned forward. She couldn't take any chances of someone overhearing. She whispered, "You must steal something from someone."
"What?"
"I can't tell you anything. Use your instincts, and it will lead you to what you are looking for." Charlemagne stared at the angel until she had totally vanished into the night sky.
Charlemagne tiptoed down the castle stairs holding the sword that he inherited from his father, Pepin The Short. If you think this might be difficult for a man of his size, you're right. He saw his guards with their large brass shields, steel swords, and arrows. You would have thought since he was the ruler, they would let him out just like that. But no, the castle guards spared no effort in protecting their powerful king.
How can I get past them? he thought to himself. He only had one choice; it was to disguise himself. He always had spare rope with him, so he tackled the guard. Then he tied up the guard and stole his armor. He put on the heavy armor, and walked out the castle into the town still thinking, What must I steal? Very frustrated he took a walk into the night trying to remember every word Elizabeth said.
Still walking in the dark, Charlemagne saw a tall broad man with a sword and a black cloak rapped around him. Charlemagne couldn't see his face in the darkness of the night. Charlemagne drew his sword, ready for anything.
Who is this man? he said to himself, moving bit by bit closer. The cloaked man drew his sword; it made a long ringing sound as if to say, "I'm ready for war". Charlemagne thought, "What will happen?" He felt a long cold shiver drizzle down his back. The only question running through his mind was, Will I survive?
The two men walked closer, and closer still. Fear grew in both of them, and then "ding!!!!!!!!." The swords finally met making a loud clashing noise that rung Charlemagne's ears. Out of the corner of Charlemagne's eye he saw a glinting shape above him. He ducked, just barley dodging the sword. Then with all his momentum and power, Charlemagne swung his sword with all his might.
"AWWWWWWW !!!!!" The cloaked man screamed with pain. The blade of Charlemagne's sword was in the man's arm. Charlemagne pulled the blade quickly out releasing a large stream of blood. The man collapsed immediately, and lay on the ground with his hands cupped over his wounded arm. He ripped off his part of his cloak to cover the wound so he wouldn't bleed to death. Charlemagne lifted up his sword with blood spilling down from the blade on to his finger. He could feel the warmth of the man's blood on his hand. Charlemagne grabs a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blade taking off the blood, and once again the metal shows.
The man threw off his cloak uncovering himself, but being careful not move his arm. Charlemagne was surprised to find Elbegast, a very famous thief and killer. Charlemagne was amazed to see him. In a cold voice that brought chills to Charlemagne he said, "Please let me go. I will leave this town and you will never see me again."
Charlemagne thought, Wait I could use his help to find the thing I'm searching for. He could be my teacher for he is a very famous thief." Mulling this thought over and over, finally he replied, "Only on one condition."
"What's that, sir?"
"You have to help me find something very important."
"YES!! Anything...any way I can help."
Charlemagne was very curious to see if this man would keep his word.
"Where is the thing you desire?"
"That's the problem; I don't know. What I must find is to show up later...,and it must be stolen," said Charlemagne in a cold voice.
"I don't understand,"said Elbegast. Charlemgane finally told him all of what Elizabeth had instructed him to do. Elbegast was amazed by this news.
Surprised, he said, "I finally understand." The came up with a plan as Charlemagne helped him with his wound.
Elbegast and Charlemagne were walking on the streets disguising themselves as farmers. "WAM!!!!" All of the sudden they heard a loud ear racketing sound. Then Charlemagne heard, "SSSHHHHHH, we don't want anyone to hear." Charlemagne snuck up with Elbegast to the room where they heard the sound. Then again they heard talking. "We must." Charlemagne's eyes widened when he recognized the voice. It was his adviser who helped him keep in safety, and there was someone else he didn't yet recongize. They snuck up closer to the window to hear, being careful not making a sound.
"Tomorrow we must murder Charlemagne when he is asleep."
Charlemagne thought, What did I do? How did I deserve this? He was scared out his mind, even for a massive man with power. He could believe a lot of events could transpire, but not this. The betrayal he felt was mountainous.
They inched away from the window to plan. Elbegast whispered, "We must murder them and end their despicable lives now!!".
"NO!!"Charlemagne yelled, looking around to insure no one heard him.
"What? they are planning to kill you," said Elbegast, confused.
"I know, we must capture them, but we will not kill them. They don't deserve to die - no one does...not even you.."
When they stormed into the house, Charlemagne's adviser tried to get his sword, but before he was a inch away, Elbegast's sword was millimeters away from the man's neck. The adviser didn't move at all. He was frightened out of his mind. Obviously Charlemagne had heard their plan. He begged for his life.
That night back in bed, with sun rising he knew the adviser and his wife would be killed the next morning, under the charge of attempted murder. He kept thinking and thinking about the angel and her words. What had she wanted him to do? Had he done it? He finally thought of what it could have been had she not come and sent him on his mission. Suddenly, he sat up in his bed. "That's why!!!" he screamed to himself. The angel had sent him to steal so he wouldn't get murdered.
That morning Charlemagne walked to where his adviser would be decapitated. Everyone was there including guards, adults, children. Everyone had circled the adviser. A huge man with a long sword, who could probably could kill anything, raised the long thick blade over the head of the advisor. He was about to bring down the sword with all his might, when Charlemagne's sword met the executioner's - stopping the blade."WAIT!!!!!!!,"yelled Charlemagne, "Stop!" The blade stilled inches from the adviser's neck. Charlemagne walked up in front of everyone and screamed, "I will let him live.
"What? This man is a disgrace," yelled a man in the crowd.
"Possible, but killing this man is not the right path! Even though he tried to murder me, and there should be a deathly consequence, I will let him go!! This world today has too much killing and suffering, We must help to end that streak. Everyone has the heart to do this. I will let him go if he promises loyalty to us and our great city."
Elbegast thought, This is going to be the greatest ruler of all time. After the long silent moment, the adviser was released. Confusion and relief covered his face. He had to give his word to be loyal, knowing that if he wasn't, there would be major consequences.
Elbagast decided to give up his horrible life of a thief and a murderer and serve Charlemagne.
There is a reason for everything in world. Especially today, and even back in the medieval ages. Revenge is one thing, and compassion is the other. Choose one and it will lead you into your future. The smallest difference can lead to something unimaginable. Charlemagne's story shows anyone can choose the right path. This is the story about the great compassion of Charlemagne the Great.
By ~ Tenzing
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Amy Bridger ~by Tanner
My dad is Jim Bridger; he was a fur trader. He was always away at the market trying to make money or in the wilderness trying to find furs. My mom was an Indian, who was also restless living in the city. Kansas City in 1881 was not a place for half-bloods. So I was sent to a missionary school; they where very strict and wouldn't let us play. At only 10 years old, I was sent away from my home. Dad said, "This will be good for you." But I didn't agree. Soon after I arrived, I knew I had to get out there.
School:
My teacher, Ms. Rooks, was my worst enemy. When she was whipping me, which seemed to happen at least two times a day, she would say, "They claim it is cheaper to assimilate the Indian than to kill him, but I wonder." I knew my father would take me out of there if he knew what was really going on, if he knew the pain I was feeling. After each beating, she would say, "I'm just trying to civilize the savage in you, now quit'cher cryin'." I despised how we were forced to march everywhere. We were forced to make our beds "correctly," shoes and buttons had to be so shiny you could see your own reflection in them. But the worst part was we were ranked by our behavior. I was always the lowest rank because the teachers hated me, and I didn't know why, but I think it's because I question everything. What's wrong with being a half-blood? Why do we have to be "civilized" and they don't?
After 2 months, I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I snuck out my bedroom window and ran like there was no tomorrow, tripping and stumbling over roots and weeds until I had no clue where I was. I came to a halt and sat down against a tree. Crying, I realized that this was a bad idea. When I ran out of tears, I got up and tried to find my home, but I didn't know where that was.. "Mom? Mom!" I yelled until I couldn't yell anymore. Finally, I laid down under a tree and fell asleep on the hard, cold ground.
The Wilderness:
The next morning I sprung up from the ground covered in insect bites. My head ached as I was trying to remember the previous night. I thought to myself, What would my dad do? It came to me, and the only way I was going to survive was to make a shelter out of the resources around me. I found a hole in a large, hollow tree; I fit into it perfectly. The tree was so large there was a lot space for me to lay down comfortably
.
I found a stream with fresh cold water. I followed the stream to a nearby pond, and I figured there would be fish in there, and fish meant food. I found a sturdy branch on the ground and sharpened the end with a rock I found in the stream. When I was done, I went to go catch a fish, and I used the technique my mom taught me and ended up catching a big rainbow trout.
Next, I made a fire with twigs. I rubbed two sticks together and made a little flame. I cooked the trout until it was a nice shiny brown and took a bite, "This is delicious!" I said aloud. When I was done with the trout and my belly was full, I put out the fire by tossing some water from the stream with my hands. I went to lie down in my treehouse, and I took a nap.
The next day I decided I would search around my new home. I took my spear and dragged it in the ground, so I would know how to get back to my home. During my search, I spotted a town, and I went over there to take a look. Still dragging my spear on the ground, I saw a train station and what looked like a hobo cart. I climbed into it without hesitation and looked around. Then all of a sudden the train started and I fell to the floor. I felt every vibration as the cart shook. There was a map of Kansas in the corner. I picked it up and examined it. It took me a while to figure out that these tracks led home! "Don't worry Mom and Dad, I'm coming home!" I yelled, crying tears of joy. I planned to ride in the hobo cart all the way home. Will I really make it, I wondered.
The Train Ride:
While I rode the train, my feet were hanging out of the cart. I watched the open plains and oak trees sweep past me. They were so close I felt as if I could touch them, but I didn't cause if I tried to, I knew I would fall out and get mauled by wild animals. It was late and I was tired, so I went to lie down. Suddenly I realized that a pack of wolves were chasing the train...and me. I thought they were just following the train like they always do, but when one got close to me, it lept into the air and almost bit off my foot. Unfortunately, the speed of the train was too much and it got sucked under the train so fast it didn't have time to yelp. When that happened, the entire pack stopped in their tracks, afraid they might get killed, too. I was scared, my heart beating fast. I could feel it bang against my chest, trying to break free from its cage. It hurt me so much to see a wolf get killed despite its attempt to attack me. I burst into tears thinking about that poor wolf and how the pack must have felt losing one of their own, but I lay back considering how I would feel to be back in my "pack" soon.
When I woke up, the train came to a halt, and I stepped out and looked at the map hammered to the wall. "This is Kansas City alright," I said to myself. Now how do I get home from here, I wondered. I examined the map for a long period of time, I live on the other side of town and my house is North, and I'm facing East so turn left and head straight and I'll be home in no time at all!
Amy did not make it home. It was around five o' clock when she was ambushed by Indians, the same Indians that attacked her school shortly after she ran away. There are no details on how they found her, but all we know is that she was executed. However, at her parents death, they still thought she was at the school, nobody outside the school knew what happen for a few years. Her Indian mom died in the year 7/23/84, three days after Jim Bridger died. The Bridger family was extinct.
By ~ Tanner
School:
My teacher, Ms. Rooks, was my worst enemy. When she was whipping me, which seemed to happen at least two times a day, she would say, "They claim it is cheaper to assimilate the Indian than to kill him, but I wonder." I knew my father would take me out of there if he knew what was really going on, if he knew the pain I was feeling. After each beating, she would say, "I'm just trying to civilize the savage in you, now quit'cher cryin'." I despised how we were forced to march everywhere. We were forced to make our beds "correctly," shoes and buttons had to be so shiny you could see your own reflection in them. But the worst part was we were ranked by our behavior. I was always the lowest rank because the teachers hated me, and I didn't know why, but I think it's because I question everything. What's wrong with being a half-blood? Why do we have to be "civilized" and they don't?
After 2 months, I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I snuck out my bedroom window and ran like there was no tomorrow, tripping and stumbling over roots and weeds until I had no clue where I was. I came to a halt and sat down against a tree. Crying, I realized that this was a bad idea. When I ran out of tears, I got up and tried to find my home, but I didn't know where that was.. "Mom? Mom!" I yelled until I couldn't yell anymore. Finally, I laid down under a tree and fell asleep on the hard, cold ground.
The Wilderness:
The next morning I sprung up from the ground covered in insect bites. My head ached as I was trying to remember the previous night. I thought to myself, What would my dad do? It came to me, and the only way I was going to survive was to make a shelter out of the resources around me. I found a hole in a large, hollow tree; I fit into it perfectly. The tree was so large there was a lot space for me to lay down comfortably
.
I found a stream with fresh cold water. I followed the stream to a nearby pond, and I figured there would be fish in there, and fish meant food. I found a sturdy branch on the ground and sharpened the end with a rock I found in the stream. When I was done, I went to go catch a fish, and I used the technique my mom taught me and ended up catching a big rainbow trout.
Next, I made a fire with twigs. I rubbed two sticks together and made a little flame. I cooked the trout until it was a nice shiny brown and took a bite, "This is delicious!" I said aloud. When I was done with the trout and my belly was full, I put out the fire by tossing some water from the stream with my hands. I went to lie down in my treehouse, and I took a nap.
The next day I decided I would search around my new home. I took my spear and dragged it in the ground, so I would know how to get back to my home. During my search, I spotted a town, and I went over there to take a look. Still dragging my spear on the ground, I saw a train station and what looked like a hobo cart. I climbed into it without hesitation and looked around. Then all of a sudden the train started and I fell to the floor. I felt every vibration as the cart shook. There was a map of Kansas in the corner. I picked it up and examined it. It took me a while to figure out that these tracks led home! "Don't worry Mom and Dad, I'm coming home!" I yelled, crying tears of joy. I planned to ride in the hobo cart all the way home. Will I really make it, I wondered.
The Train Ride:
While I rode the train, my feet were hanging out of the cart. I watched the open plains and oak trees sweep past me. They were so close I felt as if I could touch them, but I didn't cause if I tried to, I knew I would fall out and get mauled by wild animals. It was late and I was tired, so I went to lie down. Suddenly I realized that a pack of wolves were chasing the train...and me. I thought they were just following the train like they always do, but when one got close to me, it lept into the air and almost bit off my foot. Unfortunately, the speed of the train was too much and it got sucked under the train so fast it didn't have time to yelp. When that happened, the entire pack stopped in their tracks, afraid they might get killed, too. I was scared, my heart beating fast. I could feel it bang against my chest, trying to break free from its cage. It hurt me so much to see a wolf get killed despite its attempt to attack me. I burst into tears thinking about that poor wolf and how the pack must have felt losing one of their own, but I lay back considering how I would feel to be back in my "pack" soon.
When I woke up, the train came to a halt, and I stepped out and looked at the map hammered to the wall. "This is Kansas City alright," I said to myself. Now how do I get home from here, I wondered. I examined the map for a long period of time, I live on the other side of town and my house is North, and I'm facing East so turn left and head straight and I'll be home in no time at all!
Amy did not make it home. It was around five o' clock when she was ambushed by Indians, the same Indians that attacked her school shortly after she ran away. There are no details on how they found her, but all we know is that she was executed. However, at her parents death, they still thought she was at the school, nobody outside the school knew what happen for a few years. Her Indian mom died in the year 7/23/84, three days after Jim Bridger died. The Bridger family was extinct.
By ~ Tanner
Oregon Trail ~by Heather
Oregon Trail Story!
A cold winter day was turning to evening in Independence, Missouri. I'm 12 years old and my ma and pa said they had big news for me. I didn't know what they meant; but I assumed that the news was going to be good. After I walked inside, I put my coat and hat up on the wooden coat hook my grandfather had made. His name was William Frank. He died just three years ago while crossing a river to save his family stranded on the other side. I was only 9 years old; and I lost my best friend that day. I knew what was happening and could do nothing to stop it, and I still felt miserable. I couldn't believe that he was gone. I walked over to the chair that my Ma was sitting in. It was a little pink chair with tiny white poca-dots on it. She had a big grin on her face, and they both started to tell me why they had gone to go see our neighbor John Andrews.
John Andrews had gone to school to be a doctor. He is good at his job, too. Whenever I am sick, my ma always turns over to him for help when needed. When they were finished talking, they confirmed my suspicions that soon our family would be growing. "We are expecting a baby." I thought they were kidding, but I guess not. You see, I am an only child. I like being the only one, the center of attention. But sometimes I have wished that I had someone to come home to play with, to take care of. One time I even told my parents that I wanted a baby brother or sister, but I never expected them to go this far and actually have one. It was a long time ago and I'd changed my mind. I was furious. I couldn't believe this, so I screamed, "I don't want this."
6 months later: 1843
Even though it has been 6 months since the night I found out that my ma is having a baby, I still think about it every day. I'm still angry. When I, used to get bullied at school, my Ma would tell me to wipe it off and pretend that it was a bullet that just couldn't break through my skin, that couldn't hurt me. But this news had. The bullet has gone straight through my heart. I knew I couldn't keep feeling this way.
I walked over to my Ma and said, "I don't want a baby. I don't want another person added to our family."
She had a stern look on her face, and I knew that she was very disappointed in me. I didn't know what to say after that, so I walked out of the room. Soon after, I felt remorse about what I had said to her. I returned to her side and said, "I'm sorry, Ma." I returned to my room and waited for dinner.
After dinner was over, and all of the dishes were dried, I turned to look over my left shoulder and this time I saw my pa in the chair crying like I had never seen before. He face was red, and I saw anger holding his heart tightly.
I rushed over and I asked, "Papa! Why are you crying? What..."
Before I could finish, he screamed out, "It's time. We are leaving and never coming back!" I was about to ask him why we had to leave, but he blurted out, "The trail. We are leaving, and we are going to be a part of a large group of people. I heard John saying it over and over today. He is calling it the The Great Migration. I'm sorry." I could hear behind me my ma yelling and pleading with him, hoping that he wasn't serious. She seemed to understand exactly what he was talking about, and what that would mean for our family. When my Pa stood up to go over and talk to her, she quickly ran upstairs despite her pregnant state. She slammed the door behind her. I went up to her room to talk to her. I needed to understand what they were talking about; and soon the message was clear. We were going to be traveling on the Oregon Trail in less than a week.
1 week later
It was time. It was time to pack up and say goodbye to our home, and the only place I had ever known. I didn't want to leave, but I had to, and there was no turning back now. I didn't understand why we had to, and I wanted this all to stop. We walked down to the local store about a 1/4 of a mile away from our house. I knew that I would never see it again. With all of our boxes packed in our wagon, I saw a crowd of people standing in a big circle waiting for the clock to turn to12:00. Taht was the time that all of us would be leaving. My Pa said that there were going to be about 900 of us leaving together. I was surprised that 900 people would soon be traveling together on this dry and hot desert-like trail. I didn't think that all 900 people were going to make it, but soon the thought stuck in my mind, "The more people that go, the safer we will be."
I kept walking forward, and soon I caught a glimpse of a little girl. I realized that she had no one standing next to her. She had boxes in her hands, and she had pillows and a couple of blankets, but no family. She was just standing there looking around, and didn't seem like she knew what to do. I slowly sauntered closer to the girl who looked to be about my size and age. When I could see better, I figured out that the little girl was my best friend Chloe. I had known her all of my life, ever since I was three. I was confused, and I had a lot on my mind. I said to her, "Chloe! Why are you here?" I knew she was a foster kid.
She replied, "Hey, Molly Sue! I am here because I snuck away from my foster family. My little sister told me I would have a better life if I traveled on the Oregon Trail."
"Why did she tell you that?"
"I don't know. But I am going to see if she's right!"
"Well, I'm proud of you for doing what you think is right."
She nodded and turned back to the store. I heard a loud roaring noise behind me . I turned and to my surprise, I found a dozen wagons approaching the crowd. I assumed that it was almost time to leave our little town, our home. Our family had our own wagon. It was brought from the Cowboy Ranch down the street. When I got in, it smelt like tobacco and cigars. While my Pa was loading our boxes in the back, I looked over my shoulder and saw Chloe standing about 15 yards away from our wagon. She looked sad, disappointed and confused. I told my ma the whole story about her sneaking away and wanting to have a better life living on the Oregon Trail. I asked her if we could take Chloe in, if she could live with us. I could see that she was thinking about it.
Soon she blurted, "Well, I'm sorry, Molly Sue. With all of our supplies and boxes, I don't think we have enough room for her and her boxes."
My heart threatened to break and I could feel my stomach churn. I screamed at her, "But Ma! This is her only chance to live. She deserves to see what life could offer! She deserves a chance. Don't you want that for her? Don't you want me to do the same think when I get older?"
Her face looked like a lot different than before. She then said, "All right Molly Sue. If this is what you really want to do for Chloe, then I am allowing you to invite her to come along on the trip. I know her foster parents are having trouble providing for her. I'll ask them to allow her to join us. Perhaps this will be the best for all of us." I was about to scream in excitement and I felt my stomach come alive again, but before I could run over to her, she grabbed me and said, "Wait, if I see any attitude from you or you scream at me again, she is off. I will ask another wagon to take her and you will do what I say. You have to promise to teach her everything about traveling on the trail, and she must learn to fetch for food and to wash clothes. I will talk to your father about our agreement. Don't worry." The whole time she was telling me this, I had a big smile upon my face. I soon agreed and I sprinted over to Chloe, and soon it was like she became apart of our family.
Finally, we were off, and I could hear whipping of the horses and the yelling of my father to keep the wagons moving. At times it seemed like it was almost ear piercing. Chloe and I were able to sit in the very back of the wagon where there wasn't a lot of room because our boxes took up more room than we thought. We were able to fit though. The wagon still smelt like cigars and tobacco, but once we were started on the trail, I soon forgot about it.
A long day passed, and we pulled into a camping area. Some wagons went a mile down the road to a different campsite, and some went a mile and a half down the road or maybe even further. Chloe and I went out into the woods near our camp to get some logs or sticks, anything we could find to help my pa with the fire while my ma was unrolling our mats back at camp.
Pa said that Chloe and I would have to walk alongside the wagon tomorrow. I asked him why and he soon answered, "So that we can have some room for your mother to sit and so our boxes don't fly off the back! Why can't you listen for once Molly Sue?"
His rage scared me so I left. I felt horrible. My stomach churned and all of a sudden, my heart went shooting down to my stomach. I didn't want to talk to him until morning. But I had to or else my ma would ask what is wrong and my pa would convince her to take his side. She always took his side. I felt that the trail was making us all shorter with each other.
I grabbed Chloe, and I pulled her further into the woods. She looked scared, the way she always looked when we were alone. But this time was different. I had never seen her look at me like that. Her face was red. The way she stood told me something was wrong. She had both of her knees bent inward. Her arms were folded. Her face was wet. The way her blue eyes looked, told me that she was terrified. The heat was rushing at me. It hadn't rained the entire time we were on the trail. It was so dry. That was when I started to wonder why people wanted to come to the dry dessert? Why did they leave their homes for this? When I turned back around, I could see why Chloe was crying. I followed her eyes and finally understood. I saw the 6-foot snake, and realized that it had bitten her.
Ma had warned that there were many deadly snakes where we were staying. She told us to be careful, but I didn't believe her. Now, I was screaming in terror. I saw the venomous slithering devil slide past me, creep under a log. Chloe still couldn't talk. My ma and pa heard me, and they came running. My ma had her cooking knife because she was in the middle of making supper and my Pa was chopping up wood and guarding our camp from Indian attacks. Once Chloe saw them, she tried to run but her right leg just wouldn’t move. She kept screaming. By the way she was screaming, I could tell she was in extreme pain. The screams were horrifying. And I knew that if my family and I didn't act fast, I would lose my best friend Chloe.
We grabbed Chloe and took her back to camp. My ma and pa on each side of her while I comforted her and kept telling her that everything would be ok. When we reached camp, we sat Chloe down next to the campfire while ma fetched a bucket of water to wash her leg off. Chloe was still screaming extremely loud and I was starting to get a headache, but I didn't mind because I was more focused on whether my best friend was going to live or not. My father sucked the poison from the wound and spit it to the ground. The wound started to We finally got Chloe to stop screaming after a long 15 minutes. What seemed to be an hour was over and Chloe and I could finally go to sleep. Or so I thought. Pa said that he and ma were tired and needed to go to bed. So he simply asked me to stay awake with Chloe and attend to her every need.
I tried to stay awake, but the events of the day were too much and I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke, I saw Chloe lying in her bed dead. I guess everything wasn't going to be ok. After the loss of another best friend, I didn't think I had any power left. Once I started screaming, Ma and Pa woke up. We all cried. After a period of time, Dad said, "We have to continue." We would have to quickly buried her by the side of the trail before we left. I couldn't believe we had to leave her behind. So my ma said, "We should leave something with her grave. She needs something to be remembered. People should know her as they travel by."
We put one of her blankets around her. We made sure she was comfortable. We then had a small and short funeral for her. As we were about to get ready to leave, I heard ma crying behind the wagon. Pa and I rushed to her side. She had both of her arms on her stomach, and that is when I knew that Ma was having her baby. Pa tried lifting her into the wagon, but she wanted to be left on the ground. I was looking around for John Andrews. The doctor that went to see. But he had already left on the trail and was to far ahead of us it would be impossible catch up with. So Pa and I were going to have to deliver Ma's baby by ourselves.
After a good and long five hours, a baby girl was born. The look on her face made me smile. I stopped crying, Ma stopped crying, and Pa stopped crying. Ma had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. "What are you going to name her, Ma?" I asked while holding my new sister.
"Chloe," she replied, "so that we will never forget."
I smiled. While I always want a happy ending, the trail taught me the hard way that life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it. I looked down at Chloe and I whispered to her, "This is only the beginning of the battle."
By ~ Heather
A cold winter day was turning to evening in Independence, Missouri. I'm 12 years old and my ma and pa said they had big news for me. I didn't know what they meant; but I assumed that the news was going to be good. After I walked inside, I put my coat and hat up on the wooden coat hook my grandfather had made. His name was William Frank. He died just three years ago while crossing a river to save his family stranded on the other side. I was only 9 years old; and I lost my best friend that day. I knew what was happening and could do nothing to stop it, and I still felt miserable. I couldn't believe that he was gone. I walked over to the chair that my Ma was sitting in. It was a little pink chair with tiny white poca-dots on it. She had a big grin on her face, and they both started to tell me why they had gone to go see our neighbor John Andrews.
John Andrews had gone to school to be a doctor. He is good at his job, too. Whenever I am sick, my ma always turns over to him for help when needed. When they were finished talking, they confirmed my suspicions that soon our family would be growing. "We are expecting a baby." I thought they were kidding, but I guess not. You see, I am an only child. I like being the only one, the center of attention. But sometimes I have wished that I had someone to come home to play with, to take care of. One time I even told my parents that I wanted a baby brother or sister, but I never expected them to go this far and actually have one. It was a long time ago and I'd changed my mind. I was furious. I couldn't believe this, so I screamed, "I don't want this."
6 months later: 1843
Even though it has been 6 months since the night I found out that my ma is having a baby, I still think about it every day. I'm still angry. When I, used to get bullied at school, my Ma would tell me to wipe it off and pretend that it was a bullet that just couldn't break through my skin, that couldn't hurt me. But this news had. The bullet has gone straight through my heart. I knew I couldn't keep feeling this way.
I walked over to my Ma and said, "I don't want a baby. I don't want another person added to our family."
She had a stern look on her face, and I knew that she was very disappointed in me. I didn't know what to say after that, so I walked out of the room. Soon after, I felt remorse about what I had said to her. I returned to her side and said, "I'm sorry, Ma." I returned to my room and waited for dinner.
After dinner was over, and all of the dishes were dried, I turned to look over my left shoulder and this time I saw my pa in the chair crying like I had never seen before. He face was red, and I saw anger holding his heart tightly.
I rushed over and I asked, "Papa! Why are you crying? What..."
Before I could finish, he screamed out, "It's time. We are leaving and never coming back!" I was about to ask him why we had to leave, but he blurted out, "The trail. We are leaving, and we are going to be a part of a large group of people. I heard John saying it over and over today. He is calling it the The Great Migration. I'm sorry." I could hear behind me my ma yelling and pleading with him, hoping that he wasn't serious. She seemed to understand exactly what he was talking about, and what that would mean for our family. When my Pa stood up to go over and talk to her, she quickly ran upstairs despite her pregnant state. She slammed the door behind her. I went up to her room to talk to her. I needed to understand what they were talking about; and soon the message was clear. We were going to be traveling on the Oregon Trail in less than a week.
1 week later
It was time. It was time to pack up and say goodbye to our home, and the only place I had ever known. I didn't want to leave, but I had to, and there was no turning back now. I didn't understand why we had to, and I wanted this all to stop. We walked down to the local store about a 1/4 of a mile away from our house. I knew that I would never see it again. With all of our boxes packed in our wagon, I saw a crowd of people standing in a big circle waiting for the clock to turn to12:00. Taht was the time that all of us would be leaving. My Pa said that there were going to be about 900 of us leaving together. I was surprised that 900 people would soon be traveling together on this dry and hot desert-like trail. I didn't think that all 900 people were going to make it, but soon the thought stuck in my mind, "The more people that go, the safer we will be."
I kept walking forward, and soon I caught a glimpse of a little girl. I realized that she had no one standing next to her. She had boxes in her hands, and she had pillows and a couple of blankets, but no family. She was just standing there looking around, and didn't seem like she knew what to do. I slowly sauntered closer to the girl who looked to be about my size and age. When I could see better, I figured out that the little girl was my best friend Chloe. I had known her all of my life, ever since I was three. I was confused, and I had a lot on my mind. I said to her, "Chloe! Why are you here?" I knew she was a foster kid.
She replied, "Hey, Molly Sue! I am here because I snuck away from my foster family. My little sister told me I would have a better life if I traveled on the Oregon Trail."
"Why did she tell you that?"
"I don't know. But I am going to see if she's right!"
"Well, I'm proud of you for doing what you think is right."
She nodded and turned back to the store. I heard a loud roaring noise behind me . I turned and to my surprise, I found a dozen wagons approaching the crowd. I assumed that it was almost time to leave our little town, our home. Our family had our own wagon. It was brought from the Cowboy Ranch down the street. When I got in, it smelt like tobacco and cigars. While my Pa was loading our boxes in the back, I looked over my shoulder and saw Chloe standing about 15 yards away from our wagon. She looked sad, disappointed and confused. I told my ma the whole story about her sneaking away and wanting to have a better life living on the Oregon Trail. I asked her if we could take Chloe in, if she could live with us. I could see that she was thinking about it.
Soon she blurted, "Well, I'm sorry, Molly Sue. With all of our supplies and boxes, I don't think we have enough room for her and her boxes."
My heart threatened to break and I could feel my stomach churn. I screamed at her, "But Ma! This is her only chance to live. She deserves to see what life could offer! She deserves a chance. Don't you want that for her? Don't you want me to do the same think when I get older?"
Her face looked like a lot different than before. She then said, "All right Molly Sue. If this is what you really want to do for Chloe, then I am allowing you to invite her to come along on the trip. I know her foster parents are having trouble providing for her. I'll ask them to allow her to join us. Perhaps this will be the best for all of us." I was about to scream in excitement and I felt my stomach come alive again, but before I could run over to her, she grabbed me and said, "Wait, if I see any attitude from you or you scream at me again, she is off. I will ask another wagon to take her and you will do what I say. You have to promise to teach her everything about traveling on the trail, and she must learn to fetch for food and to wash clothes. I will talk to your father about our agreement. Don't worry." The whole time she was telling me this, I had a big smile upon my face. I soon agreed and I sprinted over to Chloe, and soon it was like she became apart of our family.
Finally, we were off, and I could hear whipping of the horses and the yelling of my father to keep the wagons moving. At times it seemed like it was almost ear piercing. Chloe and I were able to sit in the very back of the wagon where there wasn't a lot of room because our boxes took up more room than we thought. We were able to fit though. The wagon still smelt like cigars and tobacco, but once we were started on the trail, I soon forgot about it.
A long day passed, and we pulled into a camping area. Some wagons went a mile down the road to a different campsite, and some went a mile and a half down the road or maybe even further. Chloe and I went out into the woods near our camp to get some logs or sticks, anything we could find to help my pa with the fire while my ma was unrolling our mats back at camp.
Pa said that Chloe and I would have to walk alongside the wagon tomorrow. I asked him why and he soon answered, "So that we can have some room for your mother to sit and so our boxes don't fly off the back! Why can't you listen for once Molly Sue?"
His rage scared me so I left. I felt horrible. My stomach churned and all of a sudden, my heart went shooting down to my stomach. I didn't want to talk to him until morning. But I had to or else my ma would ask what is wrong and my pa would convince her to take his side. She always took his side. I felt that the trail was making us all shorter with each other.
I grabbed Chloe, and I pulled her further into the woods. She looked scared, the way she always looked when we were alone. But this time was different. I had never seen her look at me like that. Her face was red. The way she stood told me something was wrong. She had both of her knees bent inward. Her arms were folded. Her face was wet. The way her blue eyes looked, told me that she was terrified. The heat was rushing at me. It hadn't rained the entire time we were on the trail. It was so dry. That was when I started to wonder why people wanted to come to the dry dessert? Why did they leave their homes for this? When I turned back around, I could see why Chloe was crying. I followed her eyes and finally understood. I saw the 6-foot snake, and realized that it had bitten her.
Ma had warned that there were many deadly snakes where we were staying. She told us to be careful, but I didn't believe her. Now, I was screaming in terror. I saw the venomous slithering devil slide past me, creep under a log. Chloe still couldn't talk. My ma and pa heard me, and they came running. My ma had her cooking knife because she was in the middle of making supper and my Pa was chopping up wood and guarding our camp from Indian attacks. Once Chloe saw them, she tried to run but her right leg just wouldn’t move. She kept screaming. By the way she was screaming, I could tell she was in extreme pain. The screams were horrifying. And I knew that if my family and I didn't act fast, I would lose my best friend Chloe.
We grabbed Chloe and took her back to camp. My ma and pa on each side of her while I comforted her and kept telling her that everything would be ok. When we reached camp, we sat Chloe down next to the campfire while ma fetched a bucket of water to wash her leg off. Chloe was still screaming extremely loud and I was starting to get a headache, but I didn't mind because I was more focused on whether my best friend was going to live or not. My father sucked the poison from the wound and spit it to the ground. The wound started to We finally got Chloe to stop screaming after a long 15 minutes. What seemed to be an hour was over and Chloe and I could finally go to sleep. Or so I thought. Pa said that he and ma were tired and needed to go to bed. So he simply asked me to stay awake with Chloe and attend to her every need.
I tried to stay awake, but the events of the day were too much and I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke, I saw Chloe lying in her bed dead. I guess everything wasn't going to be ok. After the loss of another best friend, I didn't think I had any power left. Once I started screaming, Ma and Pa woke up. We all cried. After a period of time, Dad said, "We have to continue." We would have to quickly buried her by the side of the trail before we left. I couldn't believe we had to leave her behind. So my ma said, "We should leave something with her grave. She needs something to be remembered. People should know her as they travel by."
We put one of her blankets around her. We made sure she was comfortable. We then had a small and short funeral for her. As we were about to get ready to leave, I heard ma crying behind the wagon. Pa and I rushed to her side. She had both of her arms on her stomach, and that is when I knew that Ma was having her baby. Pa tried lifting her into the wagon, but she wanted to be left on the ground. I was looking around for John Andrews. The doctor that went to see. But he had already left on the trail and was to far ahead of us it would be impossible catch up with. So Pa and I were going to have to deliver Ma's baby by ourselves.
After a good and long five hours, a baby girl was born. The look on her face made me smile. I stopped crying, Ma stopped crying, and Pa stopped crying. Ma had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. "What are you going to name her, Ma?" I asked while holding my new sister.
"Chloe," she replied, "so that we will never forget."
I smiled. While I always want a happy ending, the trail taught me the hard way that life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it. I looked down at Chloe and I whispered to her, "This is only the beginning of the battle."
By ~ Heather
The Beatles Breakup ~ by Ben
It was back in 1970. The shouting was intense. I couldn’t even hear myself think. It was a little difficult trying to keep myself from freaking out. They were really mad. Paul’s face was red as he clobbered the records of their own music by throwing them and stomping on them. He even broke George's sitar! “Love Me Do” and “Come Together” crashed against the wall as he threw the records. It was appalling! I thought that it was definitely the day that the Beatles would break up. Ringo seemed disappointed about that, as I could tell, he thought they would break up today too.
I was bummed; I would have to go back to looking for jobs in the newspaper if they broke up.I hated looking for work ,and I would miss them. I didn’t know how to stop this fighting. I felt myself going insane. The fighting was too much for me to handle. Discombobulated by all the shouting, John finally agreed with Paul that it was time to break up.
Finally I couldn’t take it. “ Stop! Everyone! One at a time!” I shouted frustrated. The words were flying projectiles. They stopped shouting and started being reasonable. “ Okay Ringo, you can talk first.”
“Thank you,” said Ringo surprisingly calm. "Remember when we were so much happier at the Beatlemania phase? Remember when 3,000 fans showed up at the airport and spent the night to see us land in America?” They all remembered that time and a grin grew on their faces. “Someone even cut off my hair for a souvenir!” They all laughed at the memory. I was glad to see that they still had a sense of humor.
Some fans were so crazed they’d faint at the sight of them. I sometimes screamed when I heard them perform! You probably wouldn't blame me if you heard them. I knew that Ringo wanted to keep the group together. I hoped he did. He was off to a great start.
There was a long pause. They were in a trance, stuck in their memories. They all stared off into the distance. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I prompted “Your turn, John.” He jerked, as if being woken up from a nightmare, by someone grabbing his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said still looking kind of stunned. “I want to go back to the time when I said: We’re more popular than Jesus! I didn’t mean it! The Christians over reacted! I don't think we deserved the tomatoes!"
“I don’t think the Christians overreacted,” I said. That’s the reason the Beatles did so badly on the American tour. The Christians were mad at them “I personally don’t blame them.”
“I know it wasn’t very smart but we all make mistakes, right?”
“Wrong!” blurted Paul.
“George,” I said, hastily gesturing him to talk before John gets even more blamed.
“Why did Stu Sutcliffe have to die? He always kept us together!” said George, sprinting out of the room with tears in his eyes. This was a lot for him to say. He usually said nothing (he was known as the silent Beatle) but I knew that he and Stu were really good friends. He was probably hurt the most from Stu’s death. Empathy filled me.
. They shouldn’t have started drugs. That’s probably the reason that they were spazzing out like this. It’s weird how people start drugs just to try to do better on the charts. I'm glad I didn't start to take drugs when they did.
“We’re Breaking up!” said Paul, storming out of the room. Probably what George said caused him to break out. All the Beatles were sad when Stu died, but Paul and George were the worst. They were his best friends. Later on, He said that the reason the he broke up with the Beatles was that he just got married and his personal business was too much to be in the band. A few nights after they broke up I saw one of his shows; he meant it. I knew the band was over. Disappointment filled me and made my throat tight. I couldn’t believe that the most popular band in Britain and American history was breaking up right in front of me.
Finally the Beatles broke up leaving Ringo and I broken, and going on their own solo tours. They were great musicians alone and Pual was the first to go on an extracurricular recording project… I was left wondering if they were ever going to get back together? Then, I realized that the real reason they broke up was that there were too many egos for one band. Alone there was only one. I knew that they were not going to come back together. They still helped Ringo a couple of times but never got together again.
There were too many chefs in the kitchen or too many coaches on the team. Either way, there were too many people who thought they were the best in the band. They may have needed to break up, even though I would have to start looking for jobs I the newspaper. Maybe next time I’ll find a job with less drama.
TWO YEARS LATER: “I’m glad you decided to join,” I said, now the teacher of the drama club at the Liverpool High-school. I might be attracted to drama for some reason. I kind of like it. If I get fired here I hope I’ll get to be an actor of some-kind.
By - Ben
I was bummed; I would have to go back to looking for jobs in the newspaper if they broke up.I hated looking for work ,and I would miss them. I didn’t know how to stop this fighting. I felt myself going insane. The fighting was too much for me to handle. Discombobulated by all the shouting, John finally agreed with Paul that it was time to break up.
Finally I couldn’t take it. “ Stop! Everyone! One at a time!” I shouted frustrated. The words were flying projectiles. They stopped shouting and started being reasonable. “ Okay Ringo, you can talk first.”
“Thank you,” said Ringo surprisingly calm. "Remember when we were so much happier at the Beatlemania phase? Remember when 3,000 fans showed up at the airport and spent the night to see us land in America?” They all remembered that time and a grin grew on their faces. “Someone even cut off my hair for a souvenir!” They all laughed at the memory. I was glad to see that they still had a sense of humor.
Some fans were so crazed they’d faint at the sight of them. I sometimes screamed when I heard them perform! You probably wouldn't blame me if you heard them. I knew that Ringo wanted to keep the group together. I hoped he did. He was off to a great start.
There was a long pause. They were in a trance, stuck in their memories. They all stared off into the distance. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I prompted “Your turn, John.” He jerked, as if being woken up from a nightmare, by someone grabbing his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said still looking kind of stunned. “I want to go back to the time when I said: We’re more popular than Jesus! I didn’t mean it! The Christians over reacted! I don't think we deserved the tomatoes!"
“I don’t think the Christians overreacted,” I said. That’s the reason the Beatles did so badly on the American tour. The Christians were mad at them “I personally don’t blame them.”
“I know it wasn’t very smart but we all make mistakes, right?”
“Wrong!” blurted Paul.
“George,” I said, hastily gesturing him to talk before John gets even more blamed.
“Why did Stu Sutcliffe have to die? He always kept us together!” said George, sprinting out of the room with tears in his eyes. This was a lot for him to say. He usually said nothing (he was known as the silent Beatle) but I knew that he and Stu were really good friends. He was probably hurt the most from Stu’s death. Empathy filled me.
. They shouldn’t have started drugs. That’s probably the reason that they were spazzing out like this. It’s weird how people start drugs just to try to do better on the charts. I'm glad I didn't start to take drugs when they did.
“We’re Breaking up!” said Paul, storming out of the room. Probably what George said caused him to break out. All the Beatles were sad when Stu died, but Paul and George were the worst. They were his best friends. Later on, He said that the reason the he broke up with the Beatles was that he just got married and his personal business was too much to be in the band. A few nights after they broke up I saw one of his shows; he meant it. I knew the band was over. Disappointment filled me and made my throat tight. I couldn’t believe that the most popular band in Britain and American history was breaking up right in front of me.
Finally the Beatles broke up leaving Ringo and I broken, and going on their own solo tours. They were great musicians alone and Pual was the first to go on an extracurricular recording project… I was left wondering if they were ever going to get back together? Then, I realized that the real reason they broke up was that there were too many egos for one band. Alone there was only one. I knew that they were not going to come back together. They still helped Ringo a couple of times but never got together again.
There were too many chefs in the kitchen or too many coaches on the team. Either way, there were too many people who thought they were the best in the band. They may have needed to break up, even though I would have to start looking for jobs I the newspaper. Maybe next time I’ll find a job with less drama.
TWO YEARS LATER: “I’m glad you decided to join,” I said, now the teacher of the drama club at the Liverpool High-school. I might be attracted to drama for some reason. I kind of like it. If I get fired here I hope I’ll get to be an actor of some-kind.
By - Ben
Emitt Till ~ by Nicole
Wyoming, 1955, in School
Everyone looked the same. We had identical hair and skin color. I was plopped down in my matching desk solving math problems in unison along with everybody else. I knew I was only ten years old, almost eleven, and I had this one question that was really bugging me; were we all the same? I knew my mom and dad weren't, for sure. They were park rangers for the Grand Teton National Park. The park had just opened, so they were thrilled. Mom and dad spent all day working hard, helping wildlife, stopping hunters from killing rare wildlife. The park even started trying this amazingly new thing called "recycling." Some people would send nasty letters in the mail accusing rangers of taking away their freedom or expressing their outrage over the protections for wildlife. Those letters didn't bother me; I thought every single thing my mom and dad did is fantastic.
The dreaded school day was finally over. The scorching summer sun scowled down at me as I raced home. Once I got there, I threw aside my schoolwork, and flopped down into the nearest seat, exhausted. "Hey, Dad, anything in the news?" I asked curiously.
He grinned, exposing every tooth in his mouth. "Some other rangers and I saved a young bat from the old visitor center!" For him, it was the best news in the world.
"That's great," I laughed, "anything else?"
Dad's smile vanished instantly. "Oh. Sure." He smacked the newspaper down onto our rickety breakfast table, causing it to quiver and shake. My eyes zoomed to the headline on the front cover, dead center, and in bold:
Dead Negro Found in Tallahatchie River
August, 34, 1955, Mississippi
The body of a 14-year-old Chicago Negro, Emmett Louis Till, showing marks of brutal beating, was found in the Tallahatchie River in Mississippi on August 31. Roy Bryant, 30, and J.W. Milan, 36, white half bothers, were accused of beating then killing him because the boy had whistled at Bryant's wife in their local grocery store with other Negro friends. A jury acquitted Bryant and Milan soon after.
Then there was a picture. A mother and her family sobbing, obviously in agony. A crowd with their heads hung low bordered an open casket that lightly cradled the body of Emmett Till. My gut clenched. Marks of severe beating sprung from the page into my eyes and mind. Emmett's skin was the richest color of chocolate. He wasn't anything like kids in my class, my neighbors, or the local people I see nearly every day. Never in my entire life had I seen anything like him. He was different, and dead because of it. The pieces of the puzzle all started coming together. He was beaten, murdered, and thrown in that coffin because of two men who had white skin, just like everybody I knew... and even me. If there were such injustices in the world, did they even exist in my own town. This couldn't have happened in America... not my comforting, responsible America... could it?
This article seemed so impossible to believe that at first I thought it must be a joke, but my dad's dead-serious face told me it wasn't. These confusing thoughts kept circulating through my mind like bees around sweet summer flowers.
Dad must have read the expression on my face. He set aside his morning coffee and stared deep into my eyes, but I think he reached my soul. "Racism," he declared. "It irritates me too. Don't worry, though. Where we are, and with our race, we'll be perfectly fine." He said this with a straight face, in fact it was almost blank. It just didn't make any sense. As dad said though, it wouldn't effect me.
But it did; it did exactly that. From then on, all I could think about was Emmett and the Till family. And to make matters worse, the next few weeks, he was everywhere. The same gruesome picture popped up repeatedly on the news on television; his face was plastered on front covers of newspapers, and his name would spill from radios- he seemed to be following me. Mom and Dad would be over in the kitchen and I could catch what they were saying from my room. They were chattering about how tragic his death was. He's dead and the murderers got away with it, I thought. If we can't bring back the dead, what can we do about it?
All I could think about was Emmett Till- all the time. Emmett's picture flickered to light in my head. I thought constantly of his battered, distorted body in his casket at the funeral. That picture was engraved in my mind; I would dream of it, and it would haunt me. It was if my mind was demanding that I pay attention. Emmett Till didn't deserve to die. I didn't think I would ever truly understand racism, but I was sure of one thing; I wanted- needed to do something about it.
While I was obsessed with Emmit Till, the rest of the world continued on. Dad had sold his old, rusty, creaky car and a brand new, rocket red 1955 Chevy Bel Air had replaced it. I saw a red blur speed into our drive-way, tiny bits of gravel spewing everywhere. I heard the front screen door open then slam shut. We admired the new car until dinner time. It was just my mom, my dad, and me. Other than the clanking of silverware and the muffled chewing noises, all was silent. Once dinner was over, I asked my mom if I could go over to the local library.
I cruised over to the library on my bike. Our local library was the smallest library I had ever seen. There were only two couches and chairs in the entire place! Right as I walked in, a warm comforting feeling flowed through my body while I glanced around. The familiar dusty books kept me company as I searched for a book that might have contained something- anything about race in America. A little bit later, the kind librarian and I were flipping through every page of every book in the entire library! She was entirely confused as to why I would be interested in Emmett Till, or how I even knew about him. "It happened so far away. Why are you so worried about this?" she asked, but she took one look into my desperate eyes and could tell I was on a mission. It was frustrating because there was so little to find about racism in the 1950s.
"I think it's about time to close," the librarian said patiently, "and for you to go home."
"Okay! Well, thanks for helping." I hopped back on my bike. The sun tucked itself behind the Tetons, saying goodbye to Jackson for the day. I was riding home as I noticed this beautiful view, I realized that I didn't need to know any more information than that first article had. I raced home as the wind smacked my face and the thought stuck in my mind.
The battered screen door shut behind me as I hunted through through our recycling bin. The recycling was starting to catch on! Finally, I had found the old newspaper from weeks before, but I remembered it like yesterday; clear. I read it over and over, even though I had nearly memorized it.
The loud buzzing of the alarm clock startled me awake the next morning. As usual, I was dreading the early morning of a new Monday. Then I snapped out of the usual morning grog, remembering today was my first step in my plan. I changed into clothes, gobbled up my breakfast, grabbed my Emmett Till article, and ran out the door. "Bye, dad!"
I raced to school and got there just in time. The moment I walked in, people were already pulling out their items to share. Everyone was assigned to bring in an article each Monday morning to share with the class. This would be my most important homework assignment yet. All the other kids had normal articles, things that happened around Jackson, nothing out of the ordinary. Minutes dragged on by and nothing could compare to my article. The last name was called, and it was my turn to share. I took my spot near the chalkboard, centered in front of the class. I read the article aloud to the class. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and some even clenched their teeth- I could tell they were mad. Once I had ended, almost every hand in the class shot up. And for the ones that hadn't raised their hand just blurted out questions.
"Who does something like that?"
"Why would something happen like that?"
"This can't be real!"
My classmates reacted similarly to me. Their reactions kept coming, like an explosion. Our teacher calmed everyone down and slowly we began to settle down to listen. She explained, "I have been thinking about doing a project of some sort, and this is the perfect topic to do it on." She explained that racism is a belief that ones idea or own race is superior to others. She explained that people show hatred toward others because of race, but also because of religion, beliefs, gender, and age. She asked us to describe times when we have felt hatred from another person due to a difference that was outside of our control. I was surprised that everyone had a story. I shared about the letters my parents were receiving just because they worked for the National Parks. Again I wondered, Why is there so much hate in the world? My classmates did too.
My teacher then told us about tolerance. She said that to be tolerant, we had to be interested in learning about others, understanding their points of view before passing judgment. "How can we build more tolerance in the world?" she asked. We brainstormed many ideas.
Weeks went by and my class and I worked harder and harder on our project. Our teacher spread the word and soon the entire school was working on it, too. As one, my school and I completed our project. One day after school, I raced home. Dad was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. "Hey dad. Any news?"
Dad smiled the greatest smile yet and smacked the newspaper down onto our rickety breakfast table, causing it to quiver and shake. My eyes zoomed to the headline on the front cover, dead center, and in bold:
Elementary Helps Out!
Students take on racism by spreading tolerance in their own community. Posters fill the hallways of Elementary school, teaching kids from Kindergarten to 5th grade to be equal and respect other races, gender and religion. "It's okay to be different!" exclaims Elementary school's 5th grade teacher. Town surveys say this is one huge step toward building tolerance throughout the world. The students' goal is reached!
Then there was a picture in our hallway. Bright colors splashed all over: colors of race, religion, and gender - all coming together.
At the funeral, Mamie Till made one strong decision to leave Emmett's casket open. "Let the world see what I have seen," she exclaimed. And so we did.
By ~ Nicole
Everyone looked the same. We had identical hair and skin color. I was plopped down in my matching desk solving math problems in unison along with everybody else. I knew I was only ten years old, almost eleven, and I had this one question that was really bugging me; were we all the same? I knew my mom and dad weren't, for sure. They were park rangers for the Grand Teton National Park. The park had just opened, so they were thrilled. Mom and dad spent all day working hard, helping wildlife, stopping hunters from killing rare wildlife. The park even started trying this amazingly new thing called "recycling." Some people would send nasty letters in the mail accusing rangers of taking away their freedom or expressing their outrage over the protections for wildlife. Those letters didn't bother me; I thought every single thing my mom and dad did is fantastic.
The dreaded school day was finally over. The scorching summer sun scowled down at me as I raced home. Once I got there, I threw aside my schoolwork, and flopped down into the nearest seat, exhausted. "Hey, Dad, anything in the news?" I asked curiously.
He grinned, exposing every tooth in his mouth. "Some other rangers and I saved a young bat from the old visitor center!" For him, it was the best news in the world.
"That's great," I laughed, "anything else?"
Dad's smile vanished instantly. "Oh. Sure." He smacked the newspaper down onto our rickety breakfast table, causing it to quiver and shake. My eyes zoomed to the headline on the front cover, dead center, and in bold:
Dead Negro Found in Tallahatchie River
August, 34, 1955, Mississippi
The body of a 14-year-old Chicago Negro, Emmett Louis Till, showing marks of brutal beating, was found in the Tallahatchie River in Mississippi on August 31. Roy Bryant, 30, and J.W. Milan, 36, white half bothers, were accused of beating then killing him because the boy had whistled at Bryant's wife in their local grocery store with other Negro friends. A jury acquitted Bryant and Milan soon after.
Then there was a picture. A mother and her family sobbing, obviously in agony. A crowd with their heads hung low bordered an open casket that lightly cradled the body of Emmett Till. My gut clenched. Marks of severe beating sprung from the page into my eyes and mind. Emmett's skin was the richest color of chocolate. He wasn't anything like kids in my class, my neighbors, or the local people I see nearly every day. Never in my entire life had I seen anything like him. He was different, and dead because of it. The pieces of the puzzle all started coming together. He was beaten, murdered, and thrown in that coffin because of two men who had white skin, just like everybody I knew... and even me. If there were such injustices in the world, did they even exist in my own town. This couldn't have happened in America... not my comforting, responsible America... could it?
This article seemed so impossible to believe that at first I thought it must be a joke, but my dad's dead-serious face told me it wasn't. These confusing thoughts kept circulating through my mind like bees around sweet summer flowers.
Dad must have read the expression on my face. He set aside his morning coffee and stared deep into my eyes, but I think he reached my soul. "Racism," he declared. "It irritates me too. Don't worry, though. Where we are, and with our race, we'll be perfectly fine." He said this with a straight face, in fact it was almost blank. It just didn't make any sense. As dad said though, it wouldn't effect me.
But it did; it did exactly that. From then on, all I could think about was Emmett and the Till family. And to make matters worse, the next few weeks, he was everywhere. The same gruesome picture popped up repeatedly on the news on television; his face was plastered on front covers of newspapers, and his name would spill from radios- he seemed to be following me. Mom and Dad would be over in the kitchen and I could catch what they were saying from my room. They were chattering about how tragic his death was. He's dead and the murderers got away with it, I thought. If we can't bring back the dead, what can we do about it?
All I could think about was Emmett Till- all the time. Emmett's picture flickered to light in my head. I thought constantly of his battered, distorted body in his casket at the funeral. That picture was engraved in my mind; I would dream of it, and it would haunt me. It was if my mind was demanding that I pay attention. Emmett Till didn't deserve to die. I didn't think I would ever truly understand racism, but I was sure of one thing; I wanted- needed to do something about it.
While I was obsessed with Emmit Till, the rest of the world continued on. Dad had sold his old, rusty, creaky car and a brand new, rocket red 1955 Chevy Bel Air had replaced it. I saw a red blur speed into our drive-way, tiny bits of gravel spewing everywhere. I heard the front screen door open then slam shut. We admired the new car until dinner time. It was just my mom, my dad, and me. Other than the clanking of silverware and the muffled chewing noises, all was silent. Once dinner was over, I asked my mom if I could go over to the local library.
I cruised over to the library on my bike. Our local library was the smallest library I had ever seen. There were only two couches and chairs in the entire place! Right as I walked in, a warm comforting feeling flowed through my body while I glanced around. The familiar dusty books kept me company as I searched for a book that might have contained something- anything about race in America. A little bit later, the kind librarian and I were flipping through every page of every book in the entire library! She was entirely confused as to why I would be interested in Emmett Till, or how I even knew about him. "It happened so far away. Why are you so worried about this?" she asked, but she took one look into my desperate eyes and could tell I was on a mission. It was frustrating because there was so little to find about racism in the 1950s.
"I think it's about time to close," the librarian said patiently, "and for you to go home."
"Okay! Well, thanks for helping." I hopped back on my bike. The sun tucked itself behind the Tetons, saying goodbye to Jackson for the day. I was riding home as I noticed this beautiful view, I realized that I didn't need to know any more information than that first article had. I raced home as the wind smacked my face and the thought stuck in my mind.
The battered screen door shut behind me as I hunted through through our recycling bin. The recycling was starting to catch on! Finally, I had found the old newspaper from weeks before, but I remembered it like yesterday; clear. I read it over and over, even though I had nearly memorized it.
The loud buzzing of the alarm clock startled me awake the next morning. As usual, I was dreading the early morning of a new Monday. Then I snapped out of the usual morning grog, remembering today was my first step in my plan. I changed into clothes, gobbled up my breakfast, grabbed my Emmett Till article, and ran out the door. "Bye, dad!"
I raced to school and got there just in time. The moment I walked in, people were already pulling out their items to share. Everyone was assigned to bring in an article each Monday morning to share with the class. This would be my most important homework assignment yet. All the other kids had normal articles, things that happened around Jackson, nothing out of the ordinary. Minutes dragged on by and nothing could compare to my article. The last name was called, and it was my turn to share. I took my spot near the chalkboard, centered in front of the class. I read the article aloud to the class. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and some even clenched their teeth- I could tell they were mad. Once I had ended, almost every hand in the class shot up. And for the ones that hadn't raised their hand just blurted out questions.
"Who does something like that?"
"Why would something happen like that?"
"This can't be real!"
My classmates reacted similarly to me. Their reactions kept coming, like an explosion. Our teacher calmed everyone down and slowly we began to settle down to listen. She explained, "I have been thinking about doing a project of some sort, and this is the perfect topic to do it on." She explained that racism is a belief that ones idea or own race is superior to others. She explained that people show hatred toward others because of race, but also because of religion, beliefs, gender, and age. She asked us to describe times when we have felt hatred from another person due to a difference that was outside of our control. I was surprised that everyone had a story. I shared about the letters my parents were receiving just because they worked for the National Parks. Again I wondered, Why is there so much hate in the world? My classmates did too.
My teacher then told us about tolerance. She said that to be tolerant, we had to be interested in learning about others, understanding their points of view before passing judgment. "How can we build more tolerance in the world?" she asked. We brainstormed many ideas.
Weeks went by and my class and I worked harder and harder on our project. Our teacher spread the word and soon the entire school was working on it, too. As one, my school and I completed our project. One day after school, I raced home. Dad was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. "Hey dad. Any news?"
Dad smiled the greatest smile yet and smacked the newspaper down onto our rickety breakfast table, causing it to quiver and shake. My eyes zoomed to the headline on the front cover, dead center, and in bold:
Elementary Helps Out!
Students take on racism by spreading tolerance in their own community. Posters fill the hallways of Elementary school, teaching kids from Kindergarten to 5th grade to be equal and respect other races, gender and religion. "It's okay to be different!" exclaims Elementary school's 5th grade teacher. Town surveys say this is one huge step toward building tolerance throughout the world. The students' goal is reached!
Then there was a picture in our hallway. Bright colors splashed all over: colors of race, religion, and gender - all coming together.
At the funeral, Mamie Till made one strong decision to leave Emmett's casket open. "Let the world see what I have seen," she exclaimed. And so we did.
By ~ Nicole
Cleopatra ~by Alex CG
~ Rome ~
After many long weeks at sea surviving the rough waves and limited food, we finally arrived at Rome. We were welcomed with wide arms and a buffet in our honor. After dinner, I went up to my room and waited for the sun to set behind the horizon. As I peered out of the window, I saw a shadow zoom past. I crept down the stairs and out the door, only to find that familiar shadow peeking back at me.
As I peered across the empty field, a handsome figure watched. When our eyes met and locked, I knew that I had found my true love. For a moment I was afraid to move because I didn't want to ruin the trance that held us both still. I took a deep breath and begged my feet to move forward. Slowly, I crept toward him. In a flash, he disappeared behind a corner. "Stop!" I screamed, but he was already gone. For the rest of the night, I thought about my love.
The next day Ceaser invited me and my father to watch him in court. The way he argued the case was inspiring. When it was the other man's turn to speak, I looked up wearily, only to see the man from the field staring back at me with loving eyes. The only way I recognized him was his light brown, mesmorizing eyes. He was presented as Mark Antony.
Fury raged inside me. I had seen this man before walking the streets. But I'd never looked into his eyes, or heard his embracing voice. I studied the man for whom Antony was presenting. He had cropped black hair. He was rather scrawny and had a tired look on his face. I felt a singe of pity for the man. If Ceaser won, he would lose his land. He would lose everything. As I was trying to organize my thoughts, I was distracted by a distant clatter. Curiosity took over my body. I quietly got up, using the excuse that I had to go to the bathroom, to avoid tipping off the guards.
I snuck around the hallway, trying to locate the noise. Then I heard an ear-riping screech of terror. I stumbled over my feet as I dashed for the door. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. As I flung open the door, I saw a small orange kitten being trapped by a large chef with a rusty, old butcher knife. "What are you doing?" I screamed in astonishment.
The man moved his mouth in a way as if he were about to yell at me, but quickly changed his expression when he saw who was talking. He seemed to be in pain. He answered with a tired and miserable voice, "This is my cat. I can't afford to keep him anymore, and my boss won't let me keep feeding him food from the kitchen. I would like more than anything to let this kitten live his long happy life."
"I'll buy him from you!" I screamed, my voice still singed with shock. Because we were in Rome, he obviously didn't understand the importance of cats. For in Egypt, they represented the goddess Bastet. She was the protector of women and kids.
We both just stood there for a while. Then he looked up and said, "You do not have to pay me if you give Aro a good home."
I crept back to the courtroom holding Aro, just in time to catch the final decision. Ceaser had won. As they were getting ready to leave, Aro leaped out of my hand and meowed. Antony turned to pet the kitten. When he saw me behind him, he smiled and said, "Hello." For a while we talked about Aro. But then he asked me if I wanted to take a tour around town with him tomorrow. I almost immediately said, "Yes."
We spent every day together from that moment on. After each day, we became closer. After a few years, we decided to get married. Everything was going perfectly until my father became very ill. We knew he was dying, but we did not know what to do. Then we heard a meow. When we turned around, Aro was standing on a map of Eygpt. It was a sign, so we decided to move to Egypt to be closer to my father.
~ Egypt ~
While we were in Egypt, we had many beautiful children and forgot about the problems in Rome. Our lives in Egypt were carefree until Ceaser found out that Antony had given much of the land once ruled by Alexander The Great to my family. Ceaser became so angry he declared war against Egypt. Antony knew this was his fault so he decided to lead the war against Rome defending Egypt. I felt it was my duty to go and fight alongside him, but the people couldn't risk losing their last pharaoh. I was forbidden to go.
Days later, the Egyptian army returned with less soldiers than they left with. They returned to recriut more soldiers and gather more supplies and food. They had lost the first battle, but the war still raged on. I begged Antony not to return. I begged, "Just let the soldiers go! Stay with me." But, he wouldn't listen. Days later they had lost yet another battle. Caesar had passed through our defenses. And Antony had retreated home. Caesar was chasing after him. Antony did not want Caesar threatening my life, so he returned to battle to keep Caesar from storming the pyramids. Knowing that Caesar would not stop until we were dead, I came up with a plan.
~ Cleopatra's Plan ~
I called my loyal servant Eva into my chambers, I told her everything. She knew that Egypt was at stake. I asked of her a favor. I told her to tell everyone I was dead. I told her it was the best thing for Egypt, but really I knew I was only thinking of my family. Within days, Eva had done her job. Messengers had spread the word throughout Egypt and almost everyone had heard of my fake death. As the rumors continued to spread, I went into hiding. I waited for Caesar to find out and return to Rome, I didn't expect Antony to find out first.
~ Anthony ~
Antony's heart was filled sorrow when he heard the news. He jumped on his horse and raced for home. He had to see Cleopatra's body to believe this news. It couldn't believe it. As he rode, the only person that he could think of was Cleopatra. I cannot survive without her! We must be together, he thought. He was determined to make that happen again. With a broken heart and thoughts filled with the love of his life, he plunged the knife into his stomach. He closed his eyes and fell to the floor.
He opened his eyes when he heard a meow and felt a tongue as rough as sandpaper move across his cheek. Aro was standing above him. he looked up and found Cleopatra; she was still alive. My heart lept with joy, as I took my final breaths. Cleopatra fell to her knees and drew my head into her lap. My eyes closed as she wept.
~ Cleopatra ~
Cleopatra knew she couldn't live without him. As his eyes closed and his heart stopped, so did mine. I took a deep breath and reviewed his last words over and over again. He said, "Do not weep over my present pain, rejoice in our past happiness. I loved you with all my heart." How could I rejoice when Antony was dead? How could I rejoice when Caesar was coming after me? How could I live without the love of my life? This thought was unbearable.
Again I called Eva into my room. '
I told her to go to Puho and retrieve an Asp. The Asp was the Egyptian cobra. One bite and I would be with Antony again. Every second I wasn't with Antony was tearing apart my heart. Then, Eva came silently through the door. I knew she was depressed, but she had to understand that I just couldn't live without him. She returned, carrying a basket. Inside I could hear the slither from the cobra, and it made my skin crawl. She set it down next to me. I carefully lifted the lid and the Asp flew out, but before it could touch me, Aro leaped in front of it and began hissing and clawing at its neck. I cried, "Aro! Get away from it!" He wouldn't listen. He was trying to save my life. The asp struck at him, sinking his fangs into my poor cat's neck. I screamed, "No!" It was too late. Everything I loved was dead now. Broken hearted, I looked into the eyes of the asp and silently begged for my release.
By ~ Alex C-G
After many long weeks at sea surviving the rough waves and limited food, we finally arrived at Rome. We were welcomed with wide arms and a buffet in our honor. After dinner, I went up to my room and waited for the sun to set behind the horizon. As I peered out of the window, I saw a shadow zoom past. I crept down the stairs and out the door, only to find that familiar shadow peeking back at me.
As I peered across the empty field, a handsome figure watched. When our eyes met and locked, I knew that I had found my true love. For a moment I was afraid to move because I didn't want to ruin the trance that held us both still. I took a deep breath and begged my feet to move forward. Slowly, I crept toward him. In a flash, he disappeared behind a corner. "Stop!" I screamed, but he was already gone. For the rest of the night, I thought about my love.
The next day Ceaser invited me and my father to watch him in court. The way he argued the case was inspiring. When it was the other man's turn to speak, I looked up wearily, only to see the man from the field staring back at me with loving eyes. The only way I recognized him was his light brown, mesmorizing eyes. He was presented as Mark Antony.
Fury raged inside me. I had seen this man before walking the streets. But I'd never looked into his eyes, or heard his embracing voice. I studied the man for whom Antony was presenting. He had cropped black hair. He was rather scrawny and had a tired look on his face. I felt a singe of pity for the man. If Ceaser won, he would lose his land. He would lose everything. As I was trying to organize my thoughts, I was distracted by a distant clatter. Curiosity took over my body. I quietly got up, using the excuse that I had to go to the bathroom, to avoid tipping off the guards.
I snuck around the hallway, trying to locate the noise. Then I heard an ear-riping screech of terror. I stumbled over my feet as I dashed for the door. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. As I flung open the door, I saw a small orange kitten being trapped by a large chef with a rusty, old butcher knife. "What are you doing?" I screamed in astonishment.
The man moved his mouth in a way as if he were about to yell at me, but quickly changed his expression when he saw who was talking. He seemed to be in pain. He answered with a tired and miserable voice, "This is my cat. I can't afford to keep him anymore, and my boss won't let me keep feeding him food from the kitchen. I would like more than anything to let this kitten live his long happy life."
"I'll buy him from you!" I screamed, my voice still singed with shock. Because we were in Rome, he obviously didn't understand the importance of cats. For in Egypt, they represented the goddess Bastet. She was the protector of women and kids.
We both just stood there for a while. Then he looked up and said, "You do not have to pay me if you give Aro a good home."
I crept back to the courtroom holding Aro, just in time to catch the final decision. Ceaser had won. As they were getting ready to leave, Aro leaped out of my hand and meowed. Antony turned to pet the kitten. When he saw me behind him, he smiled and said, "Hello." For a while we talked about Aro. But then he asked me if I wanted to take a tour around town with him tomorrow. I almost immediately said, "Yes."
We spent every day together from that moment on. After each day, we became closer. After a few years, we decided to get married. Everything was going perfectly until my father became very ill. We knew he was dying, but we did not know what to do. Then we heard a meow. When we turned around, Aro was standing on a map of Eygpt. It was a sign, so we decided to move to Egypt to be closer to my father.
~ Egypt ~
While we were in Egypt, we had many beautiful children and forgot about the problems in Rome. Our lives in Egypt were carefree until Ceaser found out that Antony had given much of the land once ruled by Alexander The Great to my family. Ceaser became so angry he declared war against Egypt. Antony knew this was his fault so he decided to lead the war against Rome defending Egypt. I felt it was my duty to go and fight alongside him, but the people couldn't risk losing their last pharaoh. I was forbidden to go.
Days later, the Egyptian army returned with less soldiers than they left with. They returned to recriut more soldiers and gather more supplies and food. They had lost the first battle, but the war still raged on. I begged Antony not to return. I begged, "Just let the soldiers go! Stay with me." But, he wouldn't listen. Days later they had lost yet another battle. Caesar had passed through our defenses. And Antony had retreated home. Caesar was chasing after him. Antony did not want Caesar threatening my life, so he returned to battle to keep Caesar from storming the pyramids. Knowing that Caesar would not stop until we were dead, I came up with a plan.
~ Cleopatra's Plan ~
I called my loyal servant Eva into my chambers, I told her everything. She knew that Egypt was at stake. I asked of her a favor. I told her to tell everyone I was dead. I told her it was the best thing for Egypt, but really I knew I was only thinking of my family. Within days, Eva had done her job. Messengers had spread the word throughout Egypt and almost everyone had heard of my fake death. As the rumors continued to spread, I went into hiding. I waited for Caesar to find out and return to Rome, I didn't expect Antony to find out first.
~ Anthony ~
Antony's heart was filled sorrow when he heard the news. He jumped on his horse and raced for home. He had to see Cleopatra's body to believe this news. It couldn't believe it. As he rode, the only person that he could think of was Cleopatra. I cannot survive without her! We must be together, he thought. He was determined to make that happen again. With a broken heart and thoughts filled with the love of his life, he plunged the knife into his stomach. He closed his eyes and fell to the floor.
He opened his eyes when he heard a meow and felt a tongue as rough as sandpaper move across his cheek. Aro was standing above him. he looked up and found Cleopatra; she was still alive. My heart lept with joy, as I took my final breaths. Cleopatra fell to her knees and drew my head into her lap. My eyes closed as she wept.
~ Cleopatra ~
Cleopatra knew she couldn't live without him. As his eyes closed and his heart stopped, so did mine. I took a deep breath and reviewed his last words over and over again. He said, "Do not weep over my present pain, rejoice in our past happiness. I loved you with all my heart." How could I rejoice when Antony was dead? How could I rejoice when Caesar was coming after me? How could I live without the love of my life? This thought was unbearable.
Again I called Eva into my room. '
I told her to go to Puho and retrieve an Asp. The Asp was the Egyptian cobra. One bite and I would be with Antony again. Every second I wasn't with Antony was tearing apart my heart. Then, Eva came silently through the door. I knew she was depressed, but she had to understand that I just couldn't live without him. She returned, carrying a basket. Inside I could hear the slither from the cobra, and it made my skin crawl. She set it down next to me. I carefully lifted the lid and the Asp flew out, but before it could touch me, Aro leaped in front of it and began hissing and clawing at its neck. I cried, "Aro! Get away from it!" He wouldn't listen. He was trying to save my life. The asp struck at him, sinking his fangs into my poor cat's neck. I screamed, "No!" It was too late. Everything I loved was dead now. Broken hearted, I looked into the eyes of the asp and silently begged for my release.
By ~ Alex C-G
King Henry Arthur ~ by Justin
"They are coming! To arms men! To arms!" cried Henry, as the advancing army crept closer. "Archers ready!... aim!... fire!" Henry's voice rang throughout the castle. After the archers fired, at least 300 men from the enemy army were laying in the dust, stepped on by their marching comrades. When Henry's army of archers fired again, it was a wave of arrows as more archers had arrived at their stations. As the arrows rained down on the enemy, Henry could see the enemy soldiers fall limp and helpless to the ground. Henry was confident he was going to win this battle until...
His heart stood still as a stone when he saw the enemy's front line split in half and march two separate ways. In the middle stood at least a 1000 new archers. They aimed and shot at the castle. The arrows blocked the sun. "Get down!" shouted Henry as the arrows rained down on them. Henry ran for cover. He looked over his shoulder to see the first arrows slamming into the bodies of his men. From his cover, he could still see arrows raining down like a thunderstorm. By the time the arrows stopped falling, he could hear the crashing of swords and logs against the gate. Then, like the sound of one world colliding with another, he heard the gate fall, slamming into the ground with a earsplitting clang. Before he knew it, the sound of sword-on-sword battle flooded the castle, creeping up the stairs toward him. He heard the screams of his men getting slaughtered by the enemy knights. The stench of blood filled the castle. He was shocked that the gate would fall so easily. He was frozen in his spot, watching enemy knights flood the castle under him. He knew he had to react soon to save his men and himself. Knights started flowing up the stairs towards him. This was it. He and his comrades had to stand and fight. He took his sword from his side and jumped into battle, stabbing and slashing at enemy knights. Lifeless heads flew through the air as blood spurted from their necks. Fury flooded through him as he took down the enemy knights all around him. He felt rage flooding through him as he the battle intensified. He was light on his feet, energized by the fight. As he attacked another knight, he felt a sword slide through his chest, like a knife through hot butter.
Henry was startled as he woke to hear the sounds of his dream come to life... he heard the sound of swords and shields clashing together...the sound of battle. As he dozily walked from his room to his balcony, he saw a sea of knights fighting each other. But under all the knight's feet he could see the lifeless bodies of his fallen comrades. Henry thought he should try to fight to defend his kingdom, even though he was but a young boy. He grabbed the sword his brother had given him and his brother's old armor. He burst out his door only to see his father walking towards him and yelling, "Get back in your room!". Henry started to protest but his dad silenced him with a wave of his hand. As he reluctantly sat on his balcony, he looked down as the knights fought.
He couldn't find his brother in the masses. Fear shot through him as he wondered if he was still alive, or if his brother was one of the lifeless bodies laying on the ground in a puddle of blood. He shooed the thoughts away and reminded himself of the fact that his brother was the best knight in the kingdom. He made himself think that his brother was still fighting among those brave knights, risking their lives for their home. He hoped that one day he could do the same. But a menacing thought wondered around his mind like a mouse in a cheese factory.
Screams of terror filled the castle. But not because of enemy knights, rather the arrows were being fired over the walls. The screams died down and cheering started. Henry realized the enemies were retreating. They had won, and with every victory, there was a celebration.
Henry was just a young boy. His older brother Peter was a knight. His brother’s trainer was Sir Lancelot and his dad Gregory was king of Camelot. Despite all that, Henry was treated like a little kid. Henry had always wanted to follow in his brother's footsteps and become a knight. On some nights he would dream about becoming the best knight that ever lived and conquering all of the land around his kingdom. But on other nights, he had nightmares also about becoming a knight. There were disadvantages of being a knight. He had been begging his dad and his brother's trainer Sir Lancelot for years to start training, but every time he asked, he got the same answer, "No." And every time he asked, his dad would get angrier and angrier. This made Henry a very stubborn young boy. Henry would only last so long before he reached his breaking point.
During the celebrate of their victory, the breaking point came. Henry's dad held a tournament at Camelot. Henry's brother Peter was competing, and it was Henry's job to gather Peter's sword and armor for him. As Henry gathered his things, an odd thought crept into his mind. I am getting stepped on and pushed around. He hated the thought and quickly pushed it out of his mind. It seemed as if he was being used as a servant more and more as he got older. It was a depressing thought and seemed very true. His brother had started to make him do more ridiculous tasks, and this outraged Henry. He was determined to gain respect. He had to prove himself worthy some way, but for now, he didn't have any ideas and needed to get back to his brother before he got angry.
Henry decided to ask his father one last time if he could start knighthood training. When he approached his father, he asked with the most serious and determined voice he could. He was sure his father would approve, but to his astonishment, his dad started to laugh and said, "You are just a little boy, far too young to become a knight!" The words stung the sting of a bee. The words kept repeating over and over in his mind. That night he decided to create a plan B: sneak out at night and train himself. He was sure it would work.
As he got better and better at the moves he practiced, he taught himself harder and more sophisticated moves. as he got better and better at those individual moves, he started to arrange them into a sequence as if he was on the attack. one day he was going through a new routine when he saw a dark figure approaching. As it got closer, he realized it was a old man. Henry stood still as a rock and said boldly, "Who goes there?"
"My name is Merlin. I am a wizard who has helped your family before. I come again to help you now. I have had a dream, a dream of Henry a bold knight pulling the sword from the hand of the lady of the lake," Merlin said in his croaky but young voice.
"How could I do such a thing? I am but a young boy. All the most powerful kings have tried and failed?" Henry said astonished.
"You must believe in yourself. You must never give up!" Merlin said.
"You are just an old man why should I listen to you?" spat Henry.
"I am not telling you to listen, but to believe," Merlin said wisely.
Intrigued, Henry gathered his things and as he left Merlin standing alone in the forest, he pondered those words. He knew that older men were very wise, but what if Merlin was more than that and this was the path to the respect he had always dreamed of?
That night he reflected over the last few months. He had worked hard to become a knight. He had been so focused on gaining more power and respect, that he forgot about his actual life. Yes, he had trained with his brother and Sir Lancelot, but it only resulted in his brother pushing him around because of age. He hated this. He was tired of being stepped on; he was tired of being second. No matter what he did, his brother had done it first. How would he shine. Henry had trained and trained for months, but he was in the same place... second.
Henry looked for ways to prove himself to his father. His favorite way was to pull the sword from the stone. But he thought that if no king could do it then he couldn't, although that wouldn't stop him from trying. For some reason the idea wouldn't leave his mind. The image of the sword wouldn't go away. The image of the ghostly hand holding the sword worried Henry. Henry had no idea what the stone looked like, but he figured that the image was similar to the real thing. The thought stayed with Henry over the next few weeks, but Henry kept going about his business training with his brother.
Finally, he knew there was no other way. He would pull the sword Excalibur out of the stone. He could see himself pulling the sword from the stone; Henry knew he could do it. That night Henry was laying in bed when the Lady of the Lake appeared and told him that the sword was meant for him alone. He was astonished at first, but he realized that this is why the image of the sword wouldn't leave his mind. Henry realized that the sword was meant for him. Now Henry's main goal was to get out of the kingdom and go to the Lady of the Lake and attempt to free the sword from the stone. For the next few days, Henry tried to find a time to get out of the kingdom and go to the stone. But Henry could not get away from Peter. Ever since he had become a knight, Peter would not leave his side. Henry was getting annoyed by his brother. It was as if he knew his plan and was trying to stop him. However, he would soon escape from his brother and follow his dreams.
One day Henry woke up expecting his brother to walk in and ask to go and out train. But his brother was not rushing in yet. Henry was surprised, this was unlike his Peter. He walked over to his balcony and opened the curtains. It was pouring rain, that explained why peter hadn't woken him. Then suddenly lightning split the sky with a deafening crack. All Henry wanted to do was return to his bed like everyone else...then he realized this was the day. He ran to his room trying to gather his things under all of his possessions which was nearly impossible because it was like a sea of clothes. when he finally found what he wanted he flew out his door almost running into his brother.
"Henry!" shouted Peter.
"sorry brother, I'm in a hurry!" Henry said breathing hard.
"Well, watch it!" Said Peter in his angry voice.
Henry kept running passing the court yard and got to the gate breathing as hard as a dog. the guard opened the gate with a nod from Henry. He sprinted through the forest, trees flying by him. He had to duck so he wouldn't get hit by hanging branch. He got to the lake and he flopped down in the grass for a few minutes to rest. He stood up a few minutes later and realized it had stopped raining. He wondered if it stopped before he got outside because he didn't remember getting wet. Henry walked up to the water's edge looking for the stone. He thought he saw it a few times but he thought he must have been having an illusion. Finally he saw it. a big stone hand grasping the most beautiful sword in the world... Excalibur.
He looked around for a small boat and found one at the edge of the lake. There was a single row in it so he had to paddle in a weird way. He finally got to the stone to his surprise the stone and sword were starting to glow. He put his hands up to grab it, and it glowed more brightly. When his fingers touched the sword, the rock rumbled. He grasped the sword with all his strength and pulled with all his might. Excalibur slipped out of the stone with hardly any effort.
Henry felt a new burst of energy flow through him as he held the brilliant specimen in his hand. The sword was long and unbelievably light. He gently set it down in the boat and started to row to the shore. Half-way there he felt cold water touch his feet. The boat was leaking, Henry rowed harder and harder. He reached the edge of the lake knee deep in water. He leaped out of the boat with the sword in his hand. The boat sank into the depths of the lake.
Henry turned to walk back to the castle when he heard a twig break. He held his sword high and stalked forward. Peter appeared from behind a bush and nearly made Henry jump out of his skin. "Henry! how did you do that?"
"I don't know, Peter," said Henry still shocked from Peter's appearance.
"This Means you are the new king of Britain!" said Peter wile bowing before him.
"Father will never believe me," Henry said sadly glancing at the sword.
"I will make him believe," promised Peter.
"Thanks!" answered Henry. The two brothers walked towards the castle admiring the brilliant sword. The sword that would be used by the mighty king of Britain... King Henry Arthur.
by ~ Justin
His heart stood still as a stone when he saw the enemy's front line split in half and march two separate ways. In the middle stood at least a 1000 new archers. They aimed and shot at the castle. The arrows blocked the sun. "Get down!" shouted Henry as the arrows rained down on them. Henry ran for cover. He looked over his shoulder to see the first arrows slamming into the bodies of his men. From his cover, he could still see arrows raining down like a thunderstorm. By the time the arrows stopped falling, he could hear the crashing of swords and logs against the gate. Then, like the sound of one world colliding with another, he heard the gate fall, slamming into the ground with a earsplitting clang. Before he knew it, the sound of sword-on-sword battle flooded the castle, creeping up the stairs toward him. He heard the screams of his men getting slaughtered by the enemy knights. The stench of blood filled the castle. He was shocked that the gate would fall so easily. He was frozen in his spot, watching enemy knights flood the castle under him. He knew he had to react soon to save his men and himself. Knights started flowing up the stairs towards him. This was it. He and his comrades had to stand and fight. He took his sword from his side and jumped into battle, stabbing and slashing at enemy knights. Lifeless heads flew through the air as blood spurted from their necks. Fury flooded through him as he took down the enemy knights all around him. He felt rage flooding through him as he the battle intensified. He was light on his feet, energized by the fight. As he attacked another knight, he felt a sword slide through his chest, like a knife through hot butter.
Henry was startled as he woke to hear the sounds of his dream come to life... he heard the sound of swords and shields clashing together...the sound of battle. As he dozily walked from his room to his balcony, he saw a sea of knights fighting each other. But under all the knight's feet he could see the lifeless bodies of his fallen comrades. Henry thought he should try to fight to defend his kingdom, even though he was but a young boy. He grabbed the sword his brother had given him and his brother's old armor. He burst out his door only to see his father walking towards him and yelling, "Get back in your room!". Henry started to protest but his dad silenced him with a wave of his hand. As he reluctantly sat on his balcony, he looked down as the knights fought.
He couldn't find his brother in the masses. Fear shot through him as he wondered if he was still alive, or if his brother was one of the lifeless bodies laying on the ground in a puddle of blood. He shooed the thoughts away and reminded himself of the fact that his brother was the best knight in the kingdom. He made himself think that his brother was still fighting among those brave knights, risking their lives for their home. He hoped that one day he could do the same. But a menacing thought wondered around his mind like a mouse in a cheese factory.
Screams of terror filled the castle. But not because of enemy knights, rather the arrows were being fired over the walls. The screams died down and cheering started. Henry realized the enemies were retreating. They had won, and with every victory, there was a celebration.
Henry was just a young boy. His older brother Peter was a knight. His brother’s trainer was Sir Lancelot and his dad Gregory was king of Camelot. Despite all that, Henry was treated like a little kid. Henry had always wanted to follow in his brother's footsteps and become a knight. On some nights he would dream about becoming the best knight that ever lived and conquering all of the land around his kingdom. But on other nights, he had nightmares also about becoming a knight. There were disadvantages of being a knight. He had been begging his dad and his brother's trainer Sir Lancelot for years to start training, but every time he asked, he got the same answer, "No." And every time he asked, his dad would get angrier and angrier. This made Henry a very stubborn young boy. Henry would only last so long before he reached his breaking point.
During the celebrate of their victory, the breaking point came. Henry's dad held a tournament at Camelot. Henry's brother Peter was competing, and it was Henry's job to gather Peter's sword and armor for him. As Henry gathered his things, an odd thought crept into his mind. I am getting stepped on and pushed around. He hated the thought and quickly pushed it out of his mind. It seemed as if he was being used as a servant more and more as he got older. It was a depressing thought and seemed very true. His brother had started to make him do more ridiculous tasks, and this outraged Henry. He was determined to gain respect. He had to prove himself worthy some way, but for now, he didn't have any ideas and needed to get back to his brother before he got angry.
Henry decided to ask his father one last time if he could start knighthood training. When he approached his father, he asked with the most serious and determined voice he could. He was sure his father would approve, but to his astonishment, his dad started to laugh and said, "You are just a little boy, far too young to become a knight!" The words stung the sting of a bee. The words kept repeating over and over in his mind. That night he decided to create a plan B: sneak out at night and train himself. He was sure it would work.
As he got better and better at the moves he practiced, he taught himself harder and more sophisticated moves. as he got better and better at those individual moves, he started to arrange them into a sequence as if he was on the attack. one day he was going through a new routine when he saw a dark figure approaching. As it got closer, he realized it was a old man. Henry stood still as a rock and said boldly, "Who goes there?"
"My name is Merlin. I am a wizard who has helped your family before. I come again to help you now. I have had a dream, a dream of Henry a bold knight pulling the sword from the hand of the lady of the lake," Merlin said in his croaky but young voice.
"How could I do such a thing? I am but a young boy. All the most powerful kings have tried and failed?" Henry said astonished.
"You must believe in yourself. You must never give up!" Merlin said.
"You are just an old man why should I listen to you?" spat Henry.
"I am not telling you to listen, but to believe," Merlin said wisely.
Intrigued, Henry gathered his things and as he left Merlin standing alone in the forest, he pondered those words. He knew that older men were very wise, but what if Merlin was more than that and this was the path to the respect he had always dreamed of?
That night he reflected over the last few months. He had worked hard to become a knight. He had been so focused on gaining more power and respect, that he forgot about his actual life. Yes, he had trained with his brother and Sir Lancelot, but it only resulted in his brother pushing him around because of age. He hated this. He was tired of being stepped on; he was tired of being second. No matter what he did, his brother had done it first. How would he shine. Henry had trained and trained for months, but he was in the same place... second.
Henry looked for ways to prove himself to his father. His favorite way was to pull the sword from the stone. But he thought that if no king could do it then he couldn't, although that wouldn't stop him from trying. For some reason the idea wouldn't leave his mind. The image of the sword wouldn't go away. The image of the ghostly hand holding the sword worried Henry. Henry had no idea what the stone looked like, but he figured that the image was similar to the real thing. The thought stayed with Henry over the next few weeks, but Henry kept going about his business training with his brother.
Finally, he knew there was no other way. He would pull the sword Excalibur out of the stone. He could see himself pulling the sword from the stone; Henry knew he could do it. That night Henry was laying in bed when the Lady of the Lake appeared and told him that the sword was meant for him alone. He was astonished at first, but he realized that this is why the image of the sword wouldn't leave his mind. Henry realized that the sword was meant for him. Now Henry's main goal was to get out of the kingdom and go to the Lady of the Lake and attempt to free the sword from the stone. For the next few days, Henry tried to find a time to get out of the kingdom and go to the stone. But Henry could not get away from Peter. Ever since he had become a knight, Peter would not leave his side. Henry was getting annoyed by his brother. It was as if he knew his plan and was trying to stop him. However, he would soon escape from his brother and follow his dreams.
One day Henry woke up expecting his brother to walk in and ask to go and out train. But his brother was not rushing in yet. Henry was surprised, this was unlike his Peter. He walked over to his balcony and opened the curtains. It was pouring rain, that explained why peter hadn't woken him. Then suddenly lightning split the sky with a deafening crack. All Henry wanted to do was return to his bed like everyone else...then he realized this was the day. He ran to his room trying to gather his things under all of his possessions which was nearly impossible because it was like a sea of clothes. when he finally found what he wanted he flew out his door almost running into his brother.
"Henry!" shouted Peter.
"sorry brother, I'm in a hurry!" Henry said breathing hard.
"Well, watch it!" Said Peter in his angry voice.
Henry kept running passing the court yard and got to the gate breathing as hard as a dog. the guard opened the gate with a nod from Henry. He sprinted through the forest, trees flying by him. He had to duck so he wouldn't get hit by hanging branch. He got to the lake and he flopped down in the grass for a few minutes to rest. He stood up a few minutes later and realized it had stopped raining. He wondered if it stopped before he got outside because he didn't remember getting wet. Henry walked up to the water's edge looking for the stone. He thought he saw it a few times but he thought he must have been having an illusion. Finally he saw it. a big stone hand grasping the most beautiful sword in the world... Excalibur.
He looked around for a small boat and found one at the edge of the lake. There was a single row in it so he had to paddle in a weird way. He finally got to the stone to his surprise the stone and sword were starting to glow. He put his hands up to grab it, and it glowed more brightly. When his fingers touched the sword, the rock rumbled. He grasped the sword with all his strength and pulled with all his might. Excalibur slipped out of the stone with hardly any effort.
Henry felt a new burst of energy flow through him as he held the brilliant specimen in his hand. The sword was long and unbelievably light. He gently set it down in the boat and started to row to the shore. Half-way there he felt cold water touch his feet. The boat was leaking, Henry rowed harder and harder. He reached the edge of the lake knee deep in water. He leaped out of the boat with the sword in his hand. The boat sank into the depths of the lake.
Henry turned to walk back to the castle when he heard a twig break. He held his sword high and stalked forward. Peter appeared from behind a bush and nearly made Henry jump out of his skin. "Henry! how did you do that?"
"I don't know, Peter," said Henry still shocked from Peter's appearance.
"This Means you are the new king of Britain!" said Peter wile bowing before him.
"Father will never believe me," Henry said sadly glancing at the sword.
"I will make him believe," promised Peter.
"Thanks!" answered Henry. The two brothers walked towards the castle admiring the brilliant sword. The sword that would be used by the mighty king of Britain... King Henry Arthur.
by ~ Justin
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