One sunny Saturday after brunch, I was walking in the Eiffel Tower gardens with my daughter Bernadette. Looking up, I admired the Eiffel tower's 985 feet of gleaming beauty. The wind was blowing, making me feel light, like I could fly to the top. I wished I was a bird that could travel with the wind. But then the tower reminded me of the facts. There was a construction crew on the top fixing an elevator just the day before and there was an close call. People got hurt working on the Eiffel Tower. It was not all fun and games; it had taken lives. The thought was sobering.
"Father, I am so proud of you. You are the best," Burnadette told me.
"Being the architect of the Eiffel Tower has not always been something to be proud of," I muttered, feeling guilty.
"WHAT? Why not?" she asked with curiosity.
"Many people have gotten seriously injured and some died building the Eiffel Tower," I said feeling a hundred pounds of disappointment of this fact.
"Oh. Oh, daddy,I am so sorry. I had no idea," she said sadly. It was a long time after that until we talked again...
As I scanned to top of tower, the sway was the greatest I had ever seen. It was the 19th of July 1895 at 11:00 in the morning. It was a windy day; Burnadette's hair was flowing in the wind.
The wind moved the top of the tower five inches, which caused an iron beam to drop.
Jasper, the engineer and person responsible for the upkeep of the Eiffle Tower, run up to us, yelling in terror."Help, help, Talion - YOUR SON - has been in an accident. The wind made some iron break off the tower about five minutes ago...it fell and landed hard on his leg. I know it's broken, and I think we must do somthin' about it!! Yes! it's a terrible break indeed, I'm sad to say."
I ran over to a pay phone to call an ambulance to take Jasper to the hospital. When the ambulance came, they put his leg in a wooden splint. He seemed to be more comfortable after that happened. I watched them take him away to the hospital in a horse drawn ambulance. The horses were brown, strong, and very fast, faster than my car. The ambulance donned the word ambulance written in fancy letters and under it it said Royal Victorian Hospital.
I could not say how I was feeling as I cranked up my car so could drive after my son.It would have been faster to ride my horse, but he was not there, and he was getting old. My car was new; I'd only had it for a few months. It was black with a crank in the front. I love the headlights, two lights on the front to allow me to drive at night. But the best part was the leather seat, it was very comfortable. The front wheels were smaller than the back ones, which allowed for an aerodynamic feel. Speed was its promise. However, it had an open top and was very slow! I could only go about five miles per hour and my horse can go 10-15. Trying to keep my thoughts off of my son, my mind wandered to my horse. I was shopping for a new horse so I could retire Winchester. It's funny what your mind does in times of extreme worry. My thoughts would not seem to focus on Talion. I think I was too scared for that.
I was driving to the hospital,trying to remember the way. "Everyone was right! I should never have built the tower...the monster, the breathing, swaying tower of doom." Tears dripped silently off my chin . Thoughts screamed through my head. I could not concentrate. My thoughts escaped through my mouth, and I screamed at myself, "I hate that tower." With tears pouring down my cheek, I desperately tried to catch the ambulance transporting my son.
When I got to the hospital, they made me sit in the waiting room while Talion was getting x rays, a new invention at this time and getting taken care of. Finally, they let me go back and see him. I found him in pain, not the kind of pain you feel when you stub you toe or get a sliver, but a huge pain. The pain of a thousand army's shooting you down... When I saw him, I could barley take it. My knees nearly collapsed. It's all your fault, I thought to myself. Then the rest of the family walked in. My stomach found a way out of one of its monstrous knots when Bernadette came out of breath and gave me a big warm hug. All that mattered was every one was alive.
The doctor came in and he said, "Your son can not live with his leg like this; it has to be taken off as soon as possible. I can schedule a surgery today if you would like." There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
"Yes, he should have surgery today" I said. My wife and I decided an hour later.
The doctors were talking to Talion about his surgery. They explained,"We are going to put you in to a deep sleep and take off your leg. You will not feel a thing while we are taking your leg off. After it is off, the nurse will take you to your hospital room."
"Let me get the anesthesia, and that will help you sleep. Then we will bring you to your operating room," the doctor said with a great sigh.
The doctor came to me a said, "This is an intense surgery. We are working close to a vein, if we hit it, he could lose his life."
My stomach could not have been in a bigger knot. I looked up, and I wanted to run; I wanted to hide. I knew I had to face it my biggest fear of all: the chance of losing my son. In the next hour, he was in the surgical room asleep. There were many surgeons in the room, but I was focused on the one with a huge amputation knife.
They had magazines, coffee, and cookies in the waiting room, but I went outside to my car. Where in the world is my daughter, I wondered. My son had the chance of losing his life, and I did not know were Burrnadete was. I slowly made my way to the house to see if she was there. I was her in the distance. She was on her horse galloping in the field. I waved and hollered, and when she saw me, she came over to our barn. It is big and red with 10 stalls, a hay loft, and a tack room. Nine of our horses were in the field playing and having fun without a care in the world. Bernadette came galloping up on her 15.2 hand chestnut horse. Her hair flowing in the wind, her horse's mane also flowing in the wind. This calmed my nerves and for a few seconds I stopped thinking about my son.
I asked her,"Why in the world did you leave during that very important conversation with Doctor Victor?"
"I could not bear listen to his monotone voice talking about Talion possibly losing his life. He is my brother, my twin. I could not stand the thought of it," she cried.
"Everything is going to be alright," I told her, trying to be calm her down.
"I Hope so," she said although tears welled up in her eyes.
"I am going to park the car and get my horse,so we can ride to the Eiffel tower," I told her in a hurry. I drove over to the barn as fast as I could, which as I said before was not very fast. Once the car was parked, I ran over to the barn to tack up my horse. He is a 16-hand dark bay horse graying at the face. He was an Arabian and high spirited, but was getting older. I did not have much time, so I threw on the saddle and bridle and rode off to the Eiffel tower with Bernadette.
When we got to the Eiffel tower, I told her, "You will be taking Talion's place in giving the tours. You will show visitors around the Eiffel tower and bring them to the shops and bakery. I need you. I have to go back to the hospital. Thank you for helping the family. Be careful, though, I still do not trust the tower. But now you know what can happen. You will have to stay out of danger. When you are finished, come home and take care of your horse; I may not be home, but your mother will be. Bye. I love you." I left and rode my horse to the hospital.
I was too nervous to eat anything, drink anything or read. The Eiffel tower was everywhere. It was printed on the cups, pictures were in magazines. It was like it was following me around, every where. It was haunting me. It was like there was a menacing killer following me. It would not stop until I died or someone I loved did. An hour or so later the doctor came in and said, "Your son is in here. You may come see him if you would like."
Anxious, I walked into his room. He laid on the recovery bed; his leg tightly wrapped in gauze. Guilt bit me in the heart, kicked me in the gut, and devoured me. He was still groggy and barley awake. At least he was alive.
I sat with my son as he woke up. When he tried to roll over, he realized his leg was gone. He sat up and screamed bloody murder - not because of the pain but due to fright. I wrapped him in my arms trying to comfort him. Once again guilt returned. I realized his life would never be the same; he would never be able to break another stalion or filly, and we would have to get a differant horse saddle. There would be many other things in our life that would change dramaticly.
The nurse came running around the corner, "Is he all right?"
"I think he just realized his leg is missing."
"That happens ocassionaly after surgery. The reasons is that before surgery he was in so much pain, so he did not listen. He may not have understood what was going to happen."
One week and tree days later Talion and I were walking in the Eiffel tower gardens. I was pushing Talion in his wheelchair. As we looked up into the 985 feet of gleaming beauty, the sun set in the background. The spring lillies were blooming, and people were sitting at the caffe drinking coffee and eating croissants. Guilt still haunted me. Suddenly, Talion looked up at me and said, "Dad, you know it was not you fault. It was an accident."
I looked at his face and realized he meant it.
Then, he said, "I love the tower. It makes me happy just looking at it. You should be so proud."
Guilt is somthing that you can not live with. I had to shake it off. Looking at my son's face, smiling as he gazed at the tower, made me realize he was happy. This made me happy, and suddenly I was free of guilt. That is the only way to live.
By ~ Hailey
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Pilgrims ~ by Jamee
I ran through the woods tripping over sticks. "Tag, your it!" I said tagging Elizabeth.
"That's not fair why don't you ever tag Samuel," she replied angrily.
I am Elizabeth's best friend. We visit each other every day. Hold on a sec, and let me explain. I am Henry, Henry Smith. I am 12 years old. The Tilley family and my family moved here from England together. Elizabeth's family and my family are so close we are practically brother and sister. I have one sibling. Unfortunately, it is not Elizabeth. I am the eldest. And the youngest is Annie. She is only 3 years old. The Tilley family is quite the same as mine: two kids and two adults. Samuel is 12, and Elizabeth is 10. Most of the time Elizabeth and I spend the every day at each other's houses, usually playing tag in the woods.
"Hey Samuel, why don't you be "it" this time?" I asked hoping that he would say yes.
"Well, if you want me to. I am going to get you guys any way," Samuel bragged.
TAG:
One cold windy afternoon, Elizabeth, Samuel and I were once again playing tag in the woods. Big towering trees surrounded us. When we were playing, we heard many strange sounds unlike anything we had heard in England. All of the sudden we heard some thumping. We thought it was one of those people that the adults told us about. The adults told us to be afraid of them. I think they are called um.... something with an I...but my father called them "savages". I heard they had dark skin, but I don't really know. Maybe the adults are wrong. We are new to this land.
I had hoped that I might see one today. Instead, we saw this small creature. It had a very big fluffy tail. Its teeth were big and yellow. And the huge cheeks on it were so cute. I went to go touch it. It seemed to want to bite my finger. But I pulled it away fast enough. There were lots of them running around, so we just ignored it and went around playing tag again. The wind started to pick up again and the clouds moved in and looked threatening. We heard another sound, different from the thumping we heard before. Maybe a snap of a twig. We turned around to see a different creature. This time it wasn't all fuzzy; it was like me but darker. It was a human!
"AHHHHHH!!!!!!!" we screamed.
We tried to run away but then it said, "Wait. Don't be scared; I won't hurt you! I just want to know who you are. Who are you?"
Everybody was quiet. There was no sound except for the birds chirping in the trees.
"Please don't hurt us. We...well, we are like you but different," I spoke nervously. The human turned out to be a boy who was either 7 or 8 years old. He must have been one of those people that Papa told us to keep away from. What are they called..? Oh yeah Indians.
"My name is Ranjan. It means pleasing to others. Why do you seem so scared? Am I scary to you? I don't look scary do I?"
"No," we lied a bit. I continued, "You just frightened us. We thought that you were some kind of creature. Why did you sneak up and scare us?"
"Oh there are no creatures here so don't be afraid," he informed us.
"We are new here; we don't know our way around that much," said Elizabeth.
"My name is Samuel. And this is Elizabeth and Henry," Samuel said pointing at each of us. Ranjan smiled at each of us, making me feel more and more comfortable.
"Well I could have said my own name without your help," said Elizabeth said sharply to Samuel.
"I just wanted to introduce you," Samuel said defensively.
"You could let me do it, " Elizabeth argued.
"Stop!" Henry scolded.
For a second Ranjan was laughing ,and I didn't know why until he explained, "Ha, you guys are funny."
"Huh?" Elizabeth and Samuel questioned at the Samuel time.
"OK that was weird well-"
"Do you want to play tag with us?" Elizabeth said eagerly.
“Sure how do you play?" said Ranjan.
“Well there is a tagger they go around and tag other people. And if you get tagged you will go and get someone else,” said Samuel acting like he was in charge. “OK who wants to be it?”
Ranjan nodded and said, "This is like games we play! I will be it!”
“OK give us 3 seconds to get some distance away from you," we said as we scattered into the woods. "Ready! Set! GO!”
“1,2,3...Here I come!” Ranjan was chasing after Samuel. He obviously did not know that Samuel was fastest one of all of us, not even I could catch Samuel. But I was amazed, Ranjan was very close to tagging Samuel. Ranjan was officially the fastest boy I had ever seen. Samuel thought that he would hide behind a tree and lose him, but Ranjan kept his eyes on Samuel. As soon as Ranjan tagged Samuel, I knew that Samuel would go after Elizabeth. The continued with a new twist!
Snow:
I had a great sleep, but a horrible waking. Annie was squealing like crazy. I wish that she would grow up and not scream any more. But, there was a weird thing that was happening that morning. There was this white stuff coming from the sky and landing on the ground ever so lightly. I wanted to go outside and see what was these strange white flakes were. So I woke Annie up and told her, "There is strange stuff falling from the sky. We have to see what it is." She sat straight up when I told her that. She ran up to the window and saw what it was. She nearly fainted. We ran outside and met Samuel and Elizabeth already out exploring.
"Wow! This is strange. We didn't see that back in England. It's making me cold, though. Let's eat breakfast and then we will figure out what it is," Elizabeth said inviting me back to their house for breakfast. "Let's go." We went into the kitchen to see Mrs. Tilley cooking breakfast. I could see her standing at the stove and humming the song I hear every time I come here. It was a beautiful song. We sat down to eat and Elizabeth asked, "Mom do you know what that white stuff is outside?"
"Yes, in fact I do, it is frozen water from the sky that is called snow."
"Snow???" questioned Elizabeth and I. We have never heard of the word snow. I wonder how it feels or what you do with it. "That's a weird way to say frozen water," Elizabeth said
"So what do you do with it Mrs. Tilley?" I asked.
"Well you can do anything you want with it. But be careful, it is cold. You guys can go play in it after you are done eating your oatmeal."
"Oatmeal! I love oatmeal," I complimented. My favorite meal of the day was breakfast. Breakfast was always so sweet, especially when Mrs. Tilley made it. We ate all of the oatmeal with Samuel. The delicious, warm oats ran down my throat. Then we got dressed, put on our coats, and went outside to play in this white flakes called snow. We found out that the freezing water sticks together to make balls that fly through the air! So I decided to make a ball. I threw it at Samuel's face. He got very mad at me, and he made one too. He threw, but he missed me, which made him even madder! Soon all three of us were having a snowball fight. It was so much fun.
After the snow ball fight, we explored more about the snow. Ranjan returned and showed us how to make little snow houses, or snow caves, to protect ourselves from the elements and those snowballs. We played and built caves. Finally, when we came we had frozen hands and frozen noses and were shivering, we went inside. We waved goodbye to Ranjan as he disappeared into the woods. We crowded together by the fire place and told stories. Mrs. Tilley always had the best stories.
The Cough:
Mrs. Tilley pointed out, "There is a blizzard outside,and it's good thing you came in early." Then all of a sudden Elizabeth started coughing.
I really hope she is not sick, I thought.
Then Mr. Tilley and my parents came home and saw us all by the fireplace. "Hi Ma! Hi Papa," I said.
"Hi Daddy," Elizabeth said coughing.
"Sweetie are you ok?" Mr. Tilley questioned giving Elizabeth a concerned kiss.
"Just running really hard. I think."
"Wait you were running in this weather?"
"Just a few minutes ago." For a second I thought that he was going to scream because his face was red.
"Well Henry, Annie it's time we went home," Ma exclaimed.
"Can't we stay just a little longer? I want to hear more stories," I asked.
"Maybe."
"How about you all stay for dinner," said Mrs. Tilley. So Ma, Papa, and I stayed for dinner. As we laughed and told stories about our day in the snow, I realized that Elizabeth was very quiet.
The Medicine:
The most terrible thing happened. When I went go see Elizabeth the next day, she was really sick! She is coughing more than last time. Mrs.Tilley told me, "It is ok she will get better soon don't worry. It's just a cold. Lots of people get them, and they get better. But I wouldn't go in there if I was you."
"You just want me to not be in her room so I won't get sick?" I asked.
"That’s a good idea."
"What's going on?" interrupted Samuel. He is always cranky in the morning. "What's the big idea for waking me up this early in the morning? And... why are you guys here?"
"It's well past the time for you to be awake! Your poor sister is sick as a dog," Mrs. Tilley explained. Then she turned to go check on Elizabeth. She turned back, "Henry, maybe it would make her feel better is you came too." We went upstairs and into her room. Elizabeth's eyes were closed. She coughed many times and her face was pale. She looked so sick. I thought to myself, We shouldn't of gone outside the other day. I felt a swoop of sadness run through me. As she slept, it looked like she was dead.
"Is she going to be okay? Do you have any medicine for her?" I questioned. If she died, what would happen to our two families. What would happen to me? Then suddenly I thought of someone who might be able to help: Ranjan. I need to talk to him, I thought. Maybe he would have some medicine for Elizabeth. As much as I wanted to stay and see if Elizabeth was ok, I needed to get medicine from Ranjan. So I ran downstairs, out the door, and into the woods. I turned around to see if Ranjan was here. I stayed there for a long time, hoping he would arrive. "RANJAN!!!!," I screamed. I fell to my knees and started to cry. I didn't know what to do and I wanted my friend to stay alive. I sat there until I heard a noise. I turned to check if it was Ranjan. Instead I heard a different sound, it sounded like a crowing sound. I looked up into the trees to see if it was a bird, but it was Ranjan. I was so happy!
"Why are you sitting on the earth and crying?" he said.
"Ranjan there is this huge problem, Elizabeth is sick. Do you have any medicine that your people make?"
"Well, I don't have any with me, but I could return to the tribe and get some."
"Oh please do! But, Ranjan, you need to hurry because she might not survive."
"Okay, I will run like the wind!"
I ran to the Tilley house as fast as I could to tell Mrs. Tilley that her daughter is going to be ok. "I'M BACK! MRS. TILLEY YOUR DAUGHTER IS GOING TO BE OK!!" I said.
"Of course she is," she said with a worried look on her face, "but how do you know Elizabeth is going to be ok?"
"Well a friend of mine knows where to get some medicine. Soon we can give her it and she will live!" I told her.
"What friend do you have here?" asked Mrs. Tilley.
"We have met someone...he's a friends....he's an...," I stammered.
"An Indian?" Mrs. Tilley interrupted. "I will not give my daughter medicine from a savage!"
"Ok Henry its time to go now. Say good-bye," Ma said. So I waved goodbye and we walked out of their door. When we got home we ate dinner and got ready for bed. While Annie was sound asleep I stayed up thinking about Elizabeth. Would Ranjan bring her medicine? Would she be OK? Then I lay down out my window at the stars before quietly falling asleep. I woke up extremely early in the morning, ate breakfast, got dressed and ran out into the woods. I waited for Ranjan, but it took him forever. I started to worry. Then I heard that same noise I heard yesterday. My hopes rose. I looked up into the tree, but this time, all I saw a black crow. Then I heard him.
"Hello friend, I could not get the medicine. I am sorry. I asked the medicine man, but when he asked why and I told him about Elizabeth, he said, 'We do not help the white man because he gives us disease. No medicine.' I'm Sorry. Do you think she'll be OK?"
"No. I have to go," I tried to hide my disappointment, but I couldn't. Then we walked to the Tilley's house. I didn't ask Ranjan in because of how Mrs. Tilley reacted the night before.
"Hello Mrs. Tilley, how is Elizabeth doing?" I asked politely.
"Not well. She's not doing so well," she said.
"Could I see her for a minute," I asked. I grabbed a stool and sat by Elizabeth's side. Her bright, beautiful face was now pale and filled with sorrow. And her long beautiful red hair was now faded. I wanted to go back in time, to a time before we played outside in the snow. Would that save her life. I sat looking at her. And I thought this was the last time I would ever get to see her like this - alive. Her chest was moving up and down; she slept. And If she were awake, I would tell her, "This is the end of your life. How will I live without you? You made the best of everything. Even though I hated to hear you and Samuel argue, I loved being with you you. This is our last moment together and I will miss you every day for the rest of my life, but some day we will meet in heaven. We will play tag for eternity." A tear rolled down my cheek, and at that moment I knew she heard me. I heard my mom and dad enter the house, and they came up to the room. We all stood there loving each other, loving Elizabeth. We looked at her and knew she didn't have much longer. Then she opened her eyes, and in her eyes I knew it was her time to go. We gave her permission to let go, and she closed those eyes again and she stopped breathing.
After she left us we decided to take her body and bury her underground. Dad and Mr. Tilley dug her grave in the back of the Tilley's home, and they buried her there. Mom and Mrs. Tilley were crying. It made me want to cry, but I held it back. After they were done we put a rock on top of her grave. There was a rock shaped as a heart that we used to show we all loved her. And then we wrote her name in the dirt E-L-I-Z-A-B-E-T-H. Everyone left after that was finished, but I stayed. I looked at her grave and thought in my head, Everyone has to die. We live cycle - we are born, we live, and we die. And everyone doesn't die at the same time. When a loved one leaves you, you will still always have them near. Your loved ones are in your memories. But one thing that is important to remember, you will see them again. As I was thinking this, I looked into the forest. Ranjan was there, standing with his head bowed, a tear running down his cheek.
THE END!!!!!!!!!!
by ~ Jamee
"That's not fair why don't you ever tag Samuel," she replied angrily.
I am Elizabeth's best friend. We visit each other every day. Hold on a sec, and let me explain. I am Henry, Henry Smith. I am 12 years old. The Tilley family and my family moved here from England together. Elizabeth's family and my family are so close we are practically brother and sister. I have one sibling. Unfortunately, it is not Elizabeth. I am the eldest. And the youngest is Annie. She is only 3 years old. The Tilley family is quite the same as mine: two kids and two adults. Samuel is 12, and Elizabeth is 10. Most of the time Elizabeth and I spend the every day at each other's houses, usually playing tag in the woods.
"Hey Samuel, why don't you be "it" this time?" I asked hoping that he would say yes.
"Well, if you want me to. I am going to get you guys any way," Samuel bragged.
TAG:
One cold windy afternoon, Elizabeth, Samuel and I were once again playing tag in the woods. Big towering trees surrounded us. When we were playing, we heard many strange sounds unlike anything we had heard in England. All of the sudden we heard some thumping. We thought it was one of those people that the adults told us about. The adults told us to be afraid of them. I think they are called um.... something with an I...but my father called them "savages". I heard they had dark skin, but I don't really know. Maybe the adults are wrong. We are new to this land.
I had hoped that I might see one today. Instead, we saw this small creature. It had a very big fluffy tail. Its teeth were big and yellow. And the huge cheeks on it were so cute. I went to go touch it. It seemed to want to bite my finger. But I pulled it away fast enough. There were lots of them running around, so we just ignored it and went around playing tag again. The wind started to pick up again and the clouds moved in and looked threatening. We heard another sound, different from the thumping we heard before. Maybe a snap of a twig. We turned around to see a different creature. This time it wasn't all fuzzy; it was like me but darker. It was a human!
"AHHHHHH!!!!!!!" we screamed.
We tried to run away but then it said, "Wait. Don't be scared; I won't hurt you! I just want to know who you are. Who are you?"
Everybody was quiet. There was no sound except for the birds chirping in the trees.
"Please don't hurt us. We...well, we are like you but different," I spoke nervously. The human turned out to be a boy who was either 7 or 8 years old. He must have been one of those people that Papa told us to keep away from. What are they called..? Oh yeah Indians.
"My name is Ranjan. It means pleasing to others. Why do you seem so scared? Am I scary to you? I don't look scary do I?"
"No," we lied a bit. I continued, "You just frightened us. We thought that you were some kind of creature. Why did you sneak up and scare us?"
"Oh there are no creatures here so don't be afraid," he informed us.
"We are new here; we don't know our way around that much," said Elizabeth.
"My name is Samuel. And this is Elizabeth and Henry," Samuel said pointing at each of us. Ranjan smiled at each of us, making me feel more and more comfortable.
"Well I could have said my own name without your help," said Elizabeth said sharply to Samuel.
"I just wanted to introduce you," Samuel said defensively.
"You could let me do it, " Elizabeth argued.
"Stop!" Henry scolded.
For a second Ranjan was laughing ,and I didn't know why until he explained, "Ha, you guys are funny."
"Huh?" Elizabeth and Samuel questioned at the Samuel time.
"OK that was weird well-"
"Do you want to play tag with us?" Elizabeth said eagerly.
“Sure how do you play?" said Ranjan.
“Well there is a tagger they go around and tag other people. And if you get tagged you will go and get someone else,” said Samuel acting like he was in charge. “OK who wants to be it?”
Ranjan nodded and said, "This is like games we play! I will be it!”
“OK give us 3 seconds to get some distance away from you," we said as we scattered into the woods. "Ready! Set! GO!”
“1,2,3...Here I come!” Ranjan was chasing after Samuel. He obviously did not know that Samuel was fastest one of all of us, not even I could catch Samuel. But I was amazed, Ranjan was very close to tagging Samuel. Ranjan was officially the fastest boy I had ever seen. Samuel thought that he would hide behind a tree and lose him, but Ranjan kept his eyes on Samuel. As soon as Ranjan tagged Samuel, I knew that Samuel would go after Elizabeth. The continued with a new twist!
Snow:
I had a great sleep, but a horrible waking. Annie was squealing like crazy. I wish that she would grow up and not scream any more. But, there was a weird thing that was happening that morning. There was this white stuff coming from the sky and landing on the ground ever so lightly. I wanted to go outside and see what was these strange white flakes were. So I woke Annie up and told her, "There is strange stuff falling from the sky. We have to see what it is." She sat straight up when I told her that. She ran up to the window and saw what it was. She nearly fainted. We ran outside and met Samuel and Elizabeth already out exploring.
"Wow! This is strange. We didn't see that back in England. It's making me cold, though. Let's eat breakfast and then we will figure out what it is," Elizabeth said inviting me back to their house for breakfast. "Let's go." We went into the kitchen to see Mrs. Tilley cooking breakfast. I could see her standing at the stove and humming the song I hear every time I come here. It was a beautiful song. We sat down to eat and Elizabeth asked, "Mom do you know what that white stuff is outside?"
"Yes, in fact I do, it is frozen water from the sky that is called snow."
"Snow???" questioned Elizabeth and I. We have never heard of the word snow. I wonder how it feels or what you do with it. "That's a weird way to say frozen water," Elizabeth said
"So what do you do with it Mrs. Tilley?" I asked.
"Well you can do anything you want with it. But be careful, it is cold. You guys can go play in it after you are done eating your oatmeal."
"Oatmeal! I love oatmeal," I complimented. My favorite meal of the day was breakfast. Breakfast was always so sweet, especially when Mrs. Tilley made it. We ate all of the oatmeal with Samuel. The delicious, warm oats ran down my throat. Then we got dressed, put on our coats, and went outside to play in this white flakes called snow. We found out that the freezing water sticks together to make balls that fly through the air! So I decided to make a ball. I threw it at Samuel's face. He got very mad at me, and he made one too. He threw, but he missed me, which made him even madder! Soon all three of us were having a snowball fight. It was so much fun.
After the snow ball fight, we explored more about the snow. Ranjan returned and showed us how to make little snow houses, or snow caves, to protect ourselves from the elements and those snowballs. We played and built caves. Finally, when we came we had frozen hands and frozen noses and were shivering, we went inside. We waved goodbye to Ranjan as he disappeared into the woods. We crowded together by the fire place and told stories. Mrs. Tilley always had the best stories.
The Cough:
Mrs. Tilley pointed out, "There is a blizzard outside,and it's good thing you came in early." Then all of a sudden Elizabeth started coughing.
I really hope she is not sick, I thought.
Then Mr. Tilley and my parents came home and saw us all by the fireplace. "Hi Ma! Hi Papa," I said.
"Hi Daddy," Elizabeth said coughing.
"Sweetie are you ok?" Mr. Tilley questioned giving Elizabeth a concerned kiss.
"Just running really hard. I think."
"Wait you were running in this weather?"
"Just a few minutes ago." For a second I thought that he was going to scream because his face was red.
"Well Henry, Annie it's time we went home," Ma exclaimed.
"Can't we stay just a little longer? I want to hear more stories," I asked.
"Maybe."
"How about you all stay for dinner," said Mrs. Tilley. So Ma, Papa, and I stayed for dinner. As we laughed and told stories about our day in the snow, I realized that Elizabeth was very quiet.
The Medicine:
The most terrible thing happened. When I went go see Elizabeth the next day, she was really sick! She is coughing more than last time. Mrs.Tilley told me, "It is ok she will get better soon don't worry. It's just a cold. Lots of people get them, and they get better. But I wouldn't go in there if I was you."
"You just want me to not be in her room so I won't get sick?" I asked.
"That’s a good idea."
"What's going on?" interrupted Samuel. He is always cranky in the morning. "What's the big idea for waking me up this early in the morning? And... why are you guys here?"
"It's well past the time for you to be awake! Your poor sister is sick as a dog," Mrs. Tilley explained. Then she turned to go check on Elizabeth. She turned back, "Henry, maybe it would make her feel better is you came too." We went upstairs and into her room. Elizabeth's eyes were closed. She coughed many times and her face was pale. She looked so sick. I thought to myself, We shouldn't of gone outside the other day. I felt a swoop of sadness run through me. As she slept, it looked like she was dead.
"Is she going to be okay? Do you have any medicine for her?" I questioned. If she died, what would happen to our two families. What would happen to me? Then suddenly I thought of someone who might be able to help: Ranjan. I need to talk to him, I thought. Maybe he would have some medicine for Elizabeth. As much as I wanted to stay and see if Elizabeth was ok, I needed to get medicine from Ranjan. So I ran downstairs, out the door, and into the woods. I turned around to see if Ranjan was here. I stayed there for a long time, hoping he would arrive. "RANJAN!!!!," I screamed. I fell to my knees and started to cry. I didn't know what to do and I wanted my friend to stay alive. I sat there until I heard a noise. I turned to check if it was Ranjan. Instead I heard a different sound, it sounded like a crowing sound. I looked up into the trees to see if it was a bird, but it was Ranjan. I was so happy!
"Why are you sitting on the earth and crying?" he said.
"Ranjan there is this huge problem, Elizabeth is sick. Do you have any medicine that your people make?"
"Well, I don't have any with me, but I could return to the tribe and get some."
"Oh please do! But, Ranjan, you need to hurry because she might not survive."
"Okay, I will run like the wind!"
I ran to the Tilley house as fast as I could to tell Mrs. Tilley that her daughter is going to be ok. "I'M BACK! MRS. TILLEY YOUR DAUGHTER IS GOING TO BE OK!!" I said.
"Of course she is," she said with a worried look on her face, "but how do you know Elizabeth is going to be ok?"
"Well a friend of mine knows where to get some medicine. Soon we can give her it and she will live!" I told her.
"What friend do you have here?" asked Mrs. Tilley.
"We have met someone...he's a friends....he's an...," I stammered.
"An Indian?" Mrs. Tilley interrupted. "I will not give my daughter medicine from a savage!"
"Ok Henry its time to go now. Say good-bye," Ma said. So I waved goodbye and we walked out of their door. When we got home we ate dinner and got ready for bed. While Annie was sound asleep I stayed up thinking about Elizabeth. Would Ranjan bring her medicine? Would she be OK? Then I lay down out my window at the stars before quietly falling asleep. I woke up extremely early in the morning, ate breakfast, got dressed and ran out into the woods. I waited for Ranjan, but it took him forever. I started to worry. Then I heard that same noise I heard yesterday. My hopes rose. I looked up into the tree, but this time, all I saw a black crow. Then I heard him.
"Hello friend, I could not get the medicine. I am sorry. I asked the medicine man, but when he asked why and I told him about Elizabeth, he said, 'We do not help the white man because he gives us disease. No medicine.' I'm Sorry. Do you think she'll be OK?"
"No. I have to go," I tried to hide my disappointment, but I couldn't. Then we walked to the Tilley's house. I didn't ask Ranjan in because of how Mrs. Tilley reacted the night before.
"Hello Mrs. Tilley, how is Elizabeth doing?" I asked politely.
"Not well. She's not doing so well," she said.
"Could I see her for a minute," I asked. I grabbed a stool and sat by Elizabeth's side. Her bright, beautiful face was now pale and filled with sorrow. And her long beautiful red hair was now faded. I wanted to go back in time, to a time before we played outside in the snow. Would that save her life. I sat looking at her. And I thought this was the last time I would ever get to see her like this - alive. Her chest was moving up and down; she slept. And If she were awake, I would tell her, "This is the end of your life. How will I live without you? You made the best of everything. Even though I hated to hear you and Samuel argue, I loved being with you you. This is our last moment together and I will miss you every day for the rest of my life, but some day we will meet in heaven. We will play tag for eternity." A tear rolled down my cheek, and at that moment I knew she heard me. I heard my mom and dad enter the house, and they came up to the room. We all stood there loving each other, loving Elizabeth. We looked at her and knew she didn't have much longer. Then she opened her eyes, and in her eyes I knew it was her time to go. We gave her permission to let go, and she closed those eyes again and she stopped breathing.
After she left us we decided to take her body and bury her underground. Dad and Mr. Tilley dug her grave in the back of the Tilley's home, and they buried her there. Mom and Mrs. Tilley were crying. It made me want to cry, but I held it back. After they were done we put a rock on top of her grave. There was a rock shaped as a heart that we used to show we all loved her. And then we wrote her name in the dirt E-L-I-Z-A-B-E-T-H. Everyone left after that was finished, but I stayed. I looked at her grave and thought in my head, Everyone has to die. We live cycle - we are born, we live, and we die. And everyone doesn't die at the same time. When a loved one leaves you, you will still always have them near. Your loved ones are in your memories. But one thing that is important to remember, you will see them again. As I was thinking this, I looked into the forest. Ranjan was there, standing with his head bowed, a tear running down his cheek.
THE END!!!!!!!!!!
by ~ Jamee
Stands with Horses ~ by Cassie
I am Stands With Horses and this is the story of the Kiowa
Life was good until the winter of 1841when the white settlers started to migrate on the Oregon trail. With them came diseases and fur trappers. I was not as big or strong as the other boys. I was still too young to hunt. I could barely even skin a hide. About the only thing I could do was ride a horse. I still did not have one, but my brother taught me how to ride before he died. My father died of sickness, and my brother was beaten to death by the white men. My little sister, Mom, and I were the only family we had left.
It was a cold fall; the bison had been hunted to near extinction, and the tribe was going through some bad times. Smallpox had flooded through the tribe infecting women and children. We had been surviving on trout and elk for most of the summer, and we needed to find some bison to get us through the coming winter. The able bodied men went in search of the few remaining bison on the Pawnee lands several kilometers away. The bison skins we used for warmth were taken and draped over the hunters. They would dress and act much like a bison. On all fours they would crawl across the ground, herding the bison over cliffs. This was a dangerous job, and sometimes they too were stampeded over the cliff. It could take months for them to find a herd. The slaughter would take a day and then the men would come back, leaving the rest of the work for the tribe. We would go to help skin and tan the hides as well as process the meat by leaving it on hot rocks in the sun to cook. All parts of the bison were used. We were not wasteful. Always after a successful hunt, we gave thanks to the gods for our good fortune. Whenever the men left on a hunt, the anxiety was high while waiting for them to return. For sometimes...they would come back empty handed.
White Man Disease:
"Mom, leave me alone!" I thought to myself, for to say such a thing out loud would mean a punishment. My little sister was annoying me, and I wanted to be free to do what I liked. But instead, I was stuck with the sick, dying women and children. I ran off to play with my friends. We pretended to be older, to be hunters and warriors. We left in search of food. We knew we would not find anything but prairie dogs. We had no use for them, but we fed them to the wolf pups. They were as hungry as we were. We spent one night in the forest.
The morning we returned, the chief came to me with sorrow in his eyes. "Stands with Horses come. Your mother and sister are very ill."
In the tepee I saw my sister laying there so small and innocent. The pale white of her face was as if the moon had come out early.
"While you were gone, they got White Man sickness." The chief said. "We can not stay much longer; it is almost winter and we are at the summer range." He told me we had to move our tepees. We had made them out of the last bison hides. The hides were held up by lodge poles from the nearby forest that had been striped of their bark. I knew my family would die if we tried to move.
"These white people are like animals; they brought diseases to us," the chief yelled in his tent. "The spirits cursed our nation. White Man sickness is spreading through all the Indian Tribes. It has killed half the population." Chief White bone was cursing.
"Mom, you can't die, you can't!" Who will feed and take care of me? Dances With Wolves, you are the best little sister, stay with me. You have to live; I can not lose another family member. Please don't die, please." My sister was closing her eyes. I shook her back awake. "Don't die!" I screamed.
"I won't,” she said. I started to cry. The chief took me out of the tepee; it was a struggle.
"I will go get the medicine. I am the only family member left. Please let me go," I said.
"No, it is way too dangerous; you could be caught by the white men," Chief White Bone said.
"If so, they can kill me and I will be with my brother and father again. I am the only family that knows the way to the medicine. My dad has died and the other men are on the hunt. If I don't go, my family will die... And so will the others."
The chief was listening. "All right you should take some food with you and leave in the morning; that is the safest time. But if I leave then it could be too late."
"NO! If you go, you leave tomorrow that is finale." He was furious.
The Journey:
I left the chief's tepee and went to visit my mother. After being with her, I was walked through the village thinking to myself, I didn't care what the chief said,if I am to save my mom, I have to go tonight. I gathered food from the berry field and left that night. My mind was set and nothing could stop me. My sister would die in a short time if I didn't get the medicine. The other tribe is a two-day walk but if I took a horse I will get there and back in half the time! I searched the camp for a a horse, but they had all been taken for the hunt. I would have to walk. But, if I saw a white man's camp, I would look for a horse. At midnight I left. I took some jerky, a pouch of berries, and a bow that was made for me by my mom. I put them all in a bag made from the belly of a bison, and strung it around my back.
That night while walking through the desert I saw a light up ahead; it was a white man's camp. They probably had horses, I thought to myself. If I could steal one, I could reach Flying Eagles village by dawn, I told myself. For once I was right. They had a horse pen, and I could see horses. There was one in the corner. He had his head down; the rope would slide on easy if I encouraged him to stay calm. Then my mind flashed back to the warning our tribe had received. My brother had been beaten to death for simply touching a white man's horse. I wondered what would happen if I got caught stealing one.
I stood paralyzed with fear, until my memories shifted to my sister's pale face and my mother sick in bed. I had to do it. I slowly crept towards the pen and put the rope around his neck. He was still, so I hopped the fence and got on his back. I urged him forward. He moved up to the gate; I opened it and we were free. The horse was in a gallop, and then I realized I had forgotten to shut the gate. I didn't care. The dawn was breaking, and I had been riding for about three hours since the white man's camp. I was getting a little depressed, thinking I would never make it in time. Then, I saw smoke on the horizon a short while later, and my heart lifted when I saw the outline of tepees starting to appear in the distance. I knew that my sister would be okay. Soon Flying Eagle's village was so close I could smell the meat cooking.
"Stands With horses you are a brave young boy. The medicine is over there. You may take some and a little food." It was then I realized my own hunger; I had not eaten for two days. The bag that I had packed was still full and on my back.
"If I may, can I eat my food here?" I asked.
"Yes, you may," he said to me. I ate hurridly and got ready to ride home. Before I left, Flying Eagle told me that the spirits would look upon me with great honor. This made me proud.
I rode the horse back to my tribe only to find out the bad news; my sister had passed on. I was taken aback. She died before I could return. My mother lived on, but her life was changed forever. The chief came out to greet me; I gave him the horse that I had stolen. He hugged me, and I handed him the bottle. He handed the bottle over to one of the other tribe members. She in return handed him something. I was awestruck when I saw the horse he had ready for me. "How did you know that I was alive and was coming home?" I asked. "We had faith in the spirits that they would bring you home safe and sound. Here," he said as he handed me the rope that was attached to the horse. It was a beautiful Buckskin with a blue eye. I had never seen one like this before. "The eye color means strength," Chief White Bone said. Then he handed me a huge war shield that had the face of a bear and an elk. You are so brave. You risked your life for others and now we should celebrate. "You are strong and brave,” he said to me, then the feast began. Life was better!
As you can see anyone can be a hero no matter how small. It took them a few years but the bison started to re-populate and the tribe had food. The spirits were happy again. In fact, even the dogs seemed happier.
By ~ Cassie H.
Life was good until the winter of 1841when the white settlers started to migrate on the Oregon trail. With them came diseases and fur trappers. I was not as big or strong as the other boys. I was still too young to hunt. I could barely even skin a hide. About the only thing I could do was ride a horse. I still did not have one, but my brother taught me how to ride before he died. My father died of sickness, and my brother was beaten to death by the white men. My little sister, Mom, and I were the only family we had left.
It was a cold fall; the bison had been hunted to near extinction, and the tribe was going through some bad times. Smallpox had flooded through the tribe infecting women and children. We had been surviving on trout and elk for most of the summer, and we needed to find some bison to get us through the coming winter. The able bodied men went in search of the few remaining bison on the Pawnee lands several kilometers away. The bison skins we used for warmth were taken and draped over the hunters. They would dress and act much like a bison. On all fours they would crawl across the ground, herding the bison over cliffs. This was a dangerous job, and sometimes they too were stampeded over the cliff. It could take months for them to find a herd. The slaughter would take a day and then the men would come back, leaving the rest of the work for the tribe. We would go to help skin and tan the hides as well as process the meat by leaving it on hot rocks in the sun to cook. All parts of the bison were used. We were not wasteful. Always after a successful hunt, we gave thanks to the gods for our good fortune. Whenever the men left on a hunt, the anxiety was high while waiting for them to return. For sometimes...they would come back empty handed.
White Man Disease:
"Mom, leave me alone!" I thought to myself, for to say such a thing out loud would mean a punishment. My little sister was annoying me, and I wanted to be free to do what I liked. But instead, I was stuck with the sick, dying women and children. I ran off to play with my friends. We pretended to be older, to be hunters and warriors. We left in search of food. We knew we would not find anything but prairie dogs. We had no use for them, but we fed them to the wolf pups. They were as hungry as we were. We spent one night in the forest.
The morning we returned, the chief came to me with sorrow in his eyes. "Stands with Horses come. Your mother and sister are very ill."
In the tepee I saw my sister laying there so small and innocent. The pale white of her face was as if the moon had come out early.
"While you were gone, they got White Man sickness." The chief said. "We can not stay much longer; it is almost winter and we are at the summer range." He told me we had to move our tepees. We had made them out of the last bison hides. The hides were held up by lodge poles from the nearby forest that had been striped of their bark. I knew my family would die if we tried to move.
"These white people are like animals; they brought diseases to us," the chief yelled in his tent. "The spirits cursed our nation. White Man sickness is spreading through all the Indian Tribes. It has killed half the population." Chief White bone was cursing.
"Mom, you can't die, you can't!" Who will feed and take care of me? Dances With Wolves, you are the best little sister, stay with me. You have to live; I can not lose another family member. Please don't die, please." My sister was closing her eyes. I shook her back awake. "Don't die!" I screamed.
"I won't,” she said. I started to cry. The chief took me out of the tepee; it was a struggle.
"I will go get the medicine. I am the only family member left. Please let me go," I said.
"No, it is way too dangerous; you could be caught by the white men," Chief White Bone said.
"If so, they can kill me and I will be with my brother and father again. I am the only family that knows the way to the medicine. My dad has died and the other men are on the hunt. If I don't go, my family will die... And so will the others."
The chief was listening. "All right you should take some food with you and leave in the morning; that is the safest time. But if I leave then it could be too late."
"NO! If you go, you leave tomorrow that is finale." He was furious.
The Journey:
I left the chief's tepee and went to visit my mother. After being with her, I was walked through the village thinking to myself, I didn't care what the chief said,if I am to save my mom, I have to go tonight. I gathered food from the berry field and left that night. My mind was set and nothing could stop me. My sister would die in a short time if I didn't get the medicine. The other tribe is a two-day walk but if I took a horse I will get there and back in half the time! I searched the camp for a a horse, but they had all been taken for the hunt. I would have to walk. But, if I saw a white man's camp, I would look for a horse. At midnight I left. I took some jerky, a pouch of berries, and a bow that was made for me by my mom. I put them all in a bag made from the belly of a bison, and strung it around my back.
That night while walking through the desert I saw a light up ahead; it was a white man's camp. They probably had horses, I thought to myself. If I could steal one, I could reach Flying Eagles village by dawn, I told myself. For once I was right. They had a horse pen, and I could see horses. There was one in the corner. He had his head down; the rope would slide on easy if I encouraged him to stay calm. Then my mind flashed back to the warning our tribe had received. My brother had been beaten to death for simply touching a white man's horse. I wondered what would happen if I got caught stealing one.
I stood paralyzed with fear, until my memories shifted to my sister's pale face and my mother sick in bed. I had to do it. I slowly crept towards the pen and put the rope around his neck. He was still, so I hopped the fence and got on his back. I urged him forward. He moved up to the gate; I opened it and we were free. The horse was in a gallop, and then I realized I had forgotten to shut the gate. I didn't care. The dawn was breaking, and I had been riding for about three hours since the white man's camp. I was getting a little depressed, thinking I would never make it in time. Then, I saw smoke on the horizon a short while later, and my heart lifted when I saw the outline of tepees starting to appear in the distance. I knew that my sister would be okay. Soon Flying Eagle's village was so close I could smell the meat cooking.
"Stands With horses you are a brave young boy. The medicine is over there. You may take some and a little food." It was then I realized my own hunger; I had not eaten for two days. The bag that I had packed was still full and on my back.
"If I may, can I eat my food here?" I asked.
"Yes, you may," he said to me. I ate hurridly and got ready to ride home. Before I left, Flying Eagle told me that the spirits would look upon me with great honor. This made me proud.
I rode the horse back to my tribe only to find out the bad news; my sister had passed on. I was taken aback. She died before I could return. My mother lived on, but her life was changed forever. The chief came out to greet me; I gave him the horse that I had stolen. He hugged me, and I handed him the bottle. He handed the bottle over to one of the other tribe members. She in return handed him something. I was awestruck when I saw the horse he had ready for me. "How did you know that I was alive and was coming home?" I asked. "We had faith in the spirits that they would bring you home safe and sound. Here," he said as he handed me the rope that was attached to the horse. It was a beautiful Buckskin with a blue eye. I had never seen one like this before. "The eye color means strength," Chief White Bone said. Then he handed me a huge war shield that had the face of a bear and an elk. You are so brave. You risked your life for others and now we should celebrate. "You are strong and brave,” he said to me, then the feast began. Life was better!
As you can see anyone can be a hero no matter how small. It took them a few years but the bison started to re-populate and the tribe had food. The spirits were happy again. In fact, even the dogs seemed happier.
By ~ Cassie H.
Dreams ~ by Claire F.
Dreams
Running past the fields, I could make out the wonderful colors of a tournament in progress. There were blues, reds, pinks, and oranges. Name a color, and it was there. These colors were displayed on magnificent flowing ribbons and flags. The beauty astounded me, and nearly knocked me backwards. All around the field were peasants, knights, and nobles. I made it to the field just in time to see a pair of knights ride out on their massive horses. As I was gobbling this sight up with my eyes, a young voice called out, "Gregory, come! Come!” When I looked in the direction of the voice, I saw my little brother, Peter. He was nine years old, five years younger than me.
"Hi, Peter," I called, "Looks like you found us a seat."
"Indeed I did, and it's a pretty nice view, too!" It may not have been comfortable, but the view was spectacular. We were right next to the fence, where we could watch all the action take place. The spot he had found was also on the ground, with all the other peasants. Right next to us were the galleries, where all the nobles sat. I felt ashamed to be sitting on the rough, hard ground while the nobles got to sit in a nice shelter, away from the burning sun, but I was thankful Peter found us a seat before they were all taken by the swarming crowds.
The swords clashed as the knights danced around each other. Peter and I talked for a bit about whom we thought would win and which horses were the most extravagant. My favorite knight was tall and muscular. His name was Fendrel, and he was known throughout the land. Not only was Fendrel's horse draped in flowing reds and blues, but he himself was too. He'll win, I thought. There wasn't a doubt in my mind.
I was engaged in this tournament, trying to take in even the smallest detail,for I'd probably never see such a spectacular sight as this again. A tournament was a once in a lifetime chance, for I was a peasant, and we rarely were able to attend an event hosted by the lord. Tournaments are the only special event peasants are occasionally allowed to go to. I was thankful this was a extraordinary one.
We peasants received no respect. Father said we were very lucky to have the great stability, laws, and army of our lord. But I disagreed. We were treated like pigs in my point of view. Nothing was ours, for it all belonged to the lord. We weren't even allowed to leave the land without the lord's permission. Because of this, I wanted freedom. I wanted the freedom the knights had. I wanted the freedom the lords had. I wanted the freedom that everybody but the peasants had. I wanted it, and I wanted it badly.
But most of all, I wanted to be a knight. Everyone had told me there was no chance, since my father was poor like everybody else. But I knew I could fight. My brother and I always played around with the branches we found on the ground, and I, of course, always won. I am not much of a bragger, but I was by far, the most skilled village boy there was, when handed a sword. Although the others said I had no chance of becoming a knight, I knew that it wasn't impossible, for nothing was.
When I saw Fendrel ride out onto the field, I returned my focus to the tournament. The fight was coming to an end, and Fendrel was charging with full speed at his opponent. He held forward his lance, determined to strike down the enemy. The opposing knight, William, was confident, but when he saw Fendrel's calm, steady gaze, fear entered his eyes. When they were just inches away from each other, Fendrel's lance struck William straight in the shoulder and tore him of his horse. I heard a pop, and he landed with a thud on the ground. Fendrel rode over to him and dismounted his horse. As he was bending down to claim William's armor, William struck out his lance, knocking Fendrel to the side. The crowd gasped as Fendrel fell to the dirt, but he stood back up and spit into William's face. There was clear hatred between these two knights, for I was close enough to see it in their eyes. Fendrel kicked up dirt into William's eyes as he walked towards the crowd. He scanned the crowd, looking for a kipper. This kipper would be employed by him to force William's valuables off of his body, using only a club as a weapon. As Fendrel was looking around the audience, he spotted me. "What's your name, boy?" he called.
"Gregory, sir," I replied in a timid voice. Would I be his kipper? I thought myself.
"Very good. Now come here." I walked towards Fendrel as all sorts of feelings were flowing through me, including astonishment, joyousness, and fear. When I arrived by his side, he shook my hand and introduced me to his squire, Bryce. Bryce was fourteen just like me, but taller, and stronger too. “Are you enjoying the tournament?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "I am."
"Wonderful, me too. My father, Sir Leofrick is your lord. As you should know, he is the one hosting this magnificent tournament." I have never seen anyone so proud of his father as Bryce was.
“So you're the famous young fighter. I’ve heard so much about you. They say that you’re going to be the next great knight of the land!” I complimented. I was jealous of Bryce, for he had my dream. He would become a knight in only six years, for now he was a knight in training, helping with the cleaning and caring of Fendrel's horse and armor.
"Well thank you. Good luck fighting, William."
I turned my attention back to Fendrel. "Take this," he commanded as he handed me a heavy club. My heart skipped a beat as I walked out onto the field. Compared to William, I was helpless. I may have had the weapon, but he had the experience. When I looked through William's helmet I noticed his eyes staring into mine, as if staring into my soul. Fear struck me, but I pushed it aside and continued forward. When I was ten yards away, I dashed towards him. William struck out his lance, aiming to trip me. But I dodged it and pranced behind him. Swinging my arm forward, I thrashed the heavy club into the back of William's head. He let out a shriek as he slumped to the ground.
I couldn't believe it. With one strike, I had defeated a knight.
With a mighty swing, I tossed my club to the side of the arena. I grabbed William's lance, shield, and armor, leaving him in his undergarments. When I gave Fendrel William's valuables, his mouth was agape. I didn't understand why. The task of being a kipper had been so much easier than I thought. "That was amazing!" Fendrel exclaimed. I couldn't understand what he meant. I didn't think it was that amazing.
Bryce saw the expression on my face, so he said, "Gregory, Fendrel didn't believe that you could actually do it. When he picked you to be his kipper, he was just testing you. He wanted to embarrass of you." When Bryce said this, my heart nearly fell to the ground. He didn't trust me at all. He was just trying to make fun of me. I stood tall, trying not to show the humiliation I felt.
"It's not a bad thing, Gregory. You didn't embarrass yourself. Didn't you see the crowd's uproar when you knocked William out? Your skills are outstanding. You must be proud of yourself."
Fendrel suddenly interrupted and said, "Gregory, Bryce is right. You are a great fighter. That's why I'm going to make an offer."
"What do you mean?" I replied, extremely confused.
"What I mean is that your skills shouldn't be wasted." Fendrel checked that there weren't any people in hearing distance, then he added, "You should become a knight."
I nearly fainted at this request, but at a time like this I would have been ashamed, so I finally gathered up enough courage to speak, "I would be honored to become a knight, Sir Fendrel."
"That's extraordinary," Fendrel replied, "I knew you would."
At that moment I realized the horrible problem. I was poor; my father was no one of importance. In order to become a knight, he had to be a noble. How would I become a knight? I hung my head low and mumbled the words that deflated my dream. They brought it down to the level of impossibility. "I can't," I said regretfully. "I have no money, and I'm just a lowly peasant."
"I can help you with that, Gregory," said Bryce.
This confused me greatly. "How will you get me a different father, a lot more money, a horse, armor and weapons?"
"Oh it won't be too hard for me. Don't forget; I'm the son of a lord. You just wait and see," he replied. "Go get your belongings. Fendrel and I will meet you at the oak tree by the river."
I was too stunned to speak, so I nodded my head by way of reply, my curiosity rising by the second. I knew better than to ask questions, for by the sound of Bryce's voice we were in a hurry. I was glad we were meeting by the oak tree. That's where all my fond memories of my life had taken place when I wasn't working like a pig. For if we were to leave the land I wouldn't ever of seen it again.
When I started running in the direction of my cottage, Peter yelled, "Wait up, Gregory, I'm coming with you." I had to slow my pace so that he could follow. We both jogged past the luscious green fields. I was tempted to looked back, and when my curiosity finally flooded over me I saw Bryce and Fendrel going through the huge oak doors in the castle. Why would they go in there? I asked myself.
When Peter and I got back to our wooden cottage, I went straight to my room. I took my leather bag out from under my bed and packed my only other pair of clothes. I also put in a loaf of bread and my knife. Our house only had two rooms, so we couldn't store very many things in it. As I was about to step out the door Father yelled, "Just where do you think you're off to, Gregory?"
"Father, I'm leaving."
"Where to?" he asked. Father was strict, and he was not to be fooled.
"Off the land. I plan to make a new life as a knight," I replied. "I am fourteen years of age, and I feel that I am quite capable of making my own living."
"NO. I will not let you do that. Your mother and I need you to help us on the land. Farming is difficult, and Peter is not old enough."
"You can not make me do anything, Father. I still love you, for you are my family. I will send you money, because I do not want you to perish. Go ahead and let Peter be the heir of our household. I'm going to be free! I'm going to capture my dreams!" With that I strode out the door. I hoped that father would forgive me, for that would probably be the last time I would ever talk to him.
But when I turned around to get a very last glimpse of our house, my father sighed and yelled, "I wish you luck, Gregory." I gave my father one last smile. I knew he would come around at some point and support me, even if he choose the very last second. I slung my pack over my shoulder and sprinted towards the river. I ran as fast I ever have, for I was anxious to see how both Bryce and Fendrel would complete this miracle.
When I arrived at the oak tree, they were already there, chatting to each other softly. "Hi, Gregory." said Bryce when he noticed me. "First of all, to become a knight, you'll need some cash," he said, tossing me a bag of coins. My jaw dropped, but I accepted it willingly. He then retreated behind an immensely thick tree and came back with a tall, white horse. The sun glinted off his hair, making it shine like a thousand little diamonds. The horse's saddle bags were filled with clinking metal. Longing for this horse gathered up in my heart, and I could already feel a strong bond between this horse and I. But I knew that it had to have been either Bryce's or Fendrel's.
"Is he yours?" I asked Bryce, overcome with curiosity.
"Nope." Bryce replied.
"Oh. So he's Fendrel's?"
"Wrong again. He's yours, Gregory!" I was speechless as he said this so I let my jaw drop open once again. "His name is Bruno. Go ahead, hop on."
I wandered over to Bruno and looked in his saddlebags. I was astonished when I saw heaping piles of some of the most expensive armor there was. "Where did you get all this?" I questioned.
"That's my uncle's old armor, and I took Bruno from the stables. My father gave me a lot of cash when I became a squire, and that's only part of it. Fendrel's going to fill in the position of your dad, for to be a knight you must have an important father."
“Thank you so much. How can I repay you?” I asked.
“By showing you skill on the battlefield,” Fendrel replied, with a wide smile on his face.
Why would he do such a deed for only a peasant? I asked myself. My best guess was that he only was doing this to make himself look grander. Everybody would think that he would be the greatest knight, because he would have trained me. But I didn't care, for I would do anything to become a knight.
“I can do that,” I said, confident in myself. I saw Fendrel and Bryce mounting their horses, so I hopped on Bruno and chuckled silently to myself. Who knew that I would become a knight? No one believed me. But in that moment I wasn't thinking that I had showed them up, instead I was hoping that my success would allow them to believe in their dreams, too. I gave Bruno a tiny kick and we rode off into the brilliant colors of the sunset. I ran into the colors of flags and ribbons, and I rode into the colors of the sun, the colors of hopes and dreams.
By ~ Claire French
Running past the fields, I could make out the wonderful colors of a tournament in progress. There were blues, reds, pinks, and oranges. Name a color, and it was there. These colors were displayed on magnificent flowing ribbons and flags. The beauty astounded me, and nearly knocked me backwards. All around the field were peasants, knights, and nobles. I made it to the field just in time to see a pair of knights ride out on their massive horses. As I was gobbling this sight up with my eyes, a young voice called out, "Gregory, come! Come!” When I looked in the direction of the voice, I saw my little brother, Peter. He was nine years old, five years younger than me.
"Hi, Peter," I called, "Looks like you found us a seat."
"Indeed I did, and it's a pretty nice view, too!" It may not have been comfortable, but the view was spectacular. We were right next to the fence, where we could watch all the action take place. The spot he had found was also on the ground, with all the other peasants. Right next to us were the galleries, where all the nobles sat. I felt ashamed to be sitting on the rough, hard ground while the nobles got to sit in a nice shelter, away from the burning sun, but I was thankful Peter found us a seat before they were all taken by the swarming crowds.
The swords clashed as the knights danced around each other. Peter and I talked for a bit about whom we thought would win and which horses were the most extravagant. My favorite knight was tall and muscular. His name was Fendrel, and he was known throughout the land. Not only was Fendrel's horse draped in flowing reds and blues, but he himself was too. He'll win, I thought. There wasn't a doubt in my mind.
I was engaged in this tournament, trying to take in even the smallest detail,for I'd probably never see such a spectacular sight as this again. A tournament was a once in a lifetime chance, for I was a peasant, and we rarely were able to attend an event hosted by the lord. Tournaments are the only special event peasants are occasionally allowed to go to. I was thankful this was a extraordinary one.
We peasants received no respect. Father said we were very lucky to have the great stability, laws, and army of our lord. But I disagreed. We were treated like pigs in my point of view. Nothing was ours, for it all belonged to the lord. We weren't even allowed to leave the land without the lord's permission. Because of this, I wanted freedom. I wanted the freedom the knights had. I wanted the freedom the lords had. I wanted the freedom that everybody but the peasants had. I wanted it, and I wanted it badly.
But most of all, I wanted to be a knight. Everyone had told me there was no chance, since my father was poor like everybody else. But I knew I could fight. My brother and I always played around with the branches we found on the ground, and I, of course, always won. I am not much of a bragger, but I was by far, the most skilled village boy there was, when handed a sword. Although the others said I had no chance of becoming a knight, I knew that it wasn't impossible, for nothing was.
When I saw Fendrel ride out onto the field, I returned my focus to the tournament. The fight was coming to an end, and Fendrel was charging with full speed at his opponent. He held forward his lance, determined to strike down the enemy. The opposing knight, William, was confident, but when he saw Fendrel's calm, steady gaze, fear entered his eyes. When they were just inches away from each other, Fendrel's lance struck William straight in the shoulder and tore him of his horse. I heard a pop, and he landed with a thud on the ground. Fendrel rode over to him and dismounted his horse. As he was bending down to claim William's armor, William struck out his lance, knocking Fendrel to the side. The crowd gasped as Fendrel fell to the dirt, but he stood back up and spit into William's face. There was clear hatred between these two knights, for I was close enough to see it in their eyes. Fendrel kicked up dirt into William's eyes as he walked towards the crowd. He scanned the crowd, looking for a kipper. This kipper would be employed by him to force William's valuables off of his body, using only a club as a weapon. As Fendrel was looking around the audience, he spotted me. "What's your name, boy?" he called.
"Gregory, sir," I replied in a timid voice. Would I be his kipper? I thought myself.
"Very good. Now come here." I walked towards Fendrel as all sorts of feelings were flowing through me, including astonishment, joyousness, and fear. When I arrived by his side, he shook my hand and introduced me to his squire, Bryce. Bryce was fourteen just like me, but taller, and stronger too. “Are you enjoying the tournament?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "I am."
"Wonderful, me too. My father, Sir Leofrick is your lord. As you should know, he is the one hosting this magnificent tournament." I have never seen anyone so proud of his father as Bryce was.
“So you're the famous young fighter. I’ve heard so much about you. They say that you’re going to be the next great knight of the land!” I complimented. I was jealous of Bryce, for he had my dream. He would become a knight in only six years, for now he was a knight in training, helping with the cleaning and caring of Fendrel's horse and armor.
"Well thank you. Good luck fighting, William."
I turned my attention back to Fendrel. "Take this," he commanded as he handed me a heavy club. My heart skipped a beat as I walked out onto the field. Compared to William, I was helpless. I may have had the weapon, but he had the experience. When I looked through William's helmet I noticed his eyes staring into mine, as if staring into my soul. Fear struck me, but I pushed it aside and continued forward. When I was ten yards away, I dashed towards him. William struck out his lance, aiming to trip me. But I dodged it and pranced behind him. Swinging my arm forward, I thrashed the heavy club into the back of William's head. He let out a shriek as he slumped to the ground.
I couldn't believe it. With one strike, I had defeated a knight.
With a mighty swing, I tossed my club to the side of the arena. I grabbed William's lance, shield, and armor, leaving him in his undergarments. When I gave Fendrel William's valuables, his mouth was agape. I didn't understand why. The task of being a kipper had been so much easier than I thought. "That was amazing!" Fendrel exclaimed. I couldn't understand what he meant. I didn't think it was that amazing.
Bryce saw the expression on my face, so he said, "Gregory, Fendrel didn't believe that you could actually do it. When he picked you to be his kipper, he was just testing you. He wanted to embarrass of you." When Bryce said this, my heart nearly fell to the ground. He didn't trust me at all. He was just trying to make fun of me. I stood tall, trying not to show the humiliation I felt.
"It's not a bad thing, Gregory. You didn't embarrass yourself. Didn't you see the crowd's uproar when you knocked William out? Your skills are outstanding. You must be proud of yourself."
Fendrel suddenly interrupted and said, "Gregory, Bryce is right. You are a great fighter. That's why I'm going to make an offer."
"What do you mean?" I replied, extremely confused.
"What I mean is that your skills shouldn't be wasted." Fendrel checked that there weren't any people in hearing distance, then he added, "You should become a knight."
I nearly fainted at this request, but at a time like this I would have been ashamed, so I finally gathered up enough courage to speak, "I would be honored to become a knight, Sir Fendrel."
"That's extraordinary," Fendrel replied, "I knew you would."
At that moment I realized the horrible problem. I was poor; my father was no one of importance. In order to become a knight, he had to be a noble. How would I become a knight? I hung my head low and mumbled the words that deflated my dream. They brought it down to the level of impossibility. "I can't," I said regretfully. "I have no money, and I'm just a lowly peasant."
"I can help you with that, Gregory," said Bryce.
This confused me greatly. "How will you get me a different father, a lot more money, a horse, armor and weapons?"
"Oh it won't be too hard for me. Don't forget; I'm the son of a lord. You just wait and see," he replied. "Go get your belongings. Fendrel and I will meet you at the oak tree by the river."
I was too stunned to speak, so I nodded my head by way of reply, my curiosity rising by the second. I knew better than to ask questions, for by the sound of Bryce's voice we were in a hurry. I was glad we were meeting by the oak tree. That's where all my fond memories of my life had taken place when I wasn't working like a pig. For if we were to leave the land I wouldn't ever of seen it again.
When I started running in the direction of my cottage, Peter yelled, "Wait up, Gregory, I'm coming with you." I had to slow my pace so that he could follow. We both jogged past the luscious green fields. I was tempted to looked back, and when my curiosity finally flooded over me I saw Bryce and Fendrel going through the huge oak doors in the castle. Why would they go in there? I asked myself.
When Peter and I got back to our wooden cottage, I went straight to my room. I took my leather bag out from under my bed and packed my only other pair of clothes. I also put in a loaf of bread and my knife. Our house only had two rooms, so we couldn't store very many things in it. As I was about to step out the door Father yelled, "Just where do you think you're off to, Gregory?"
"Father, I'm leaving."
"Where to?" he asked. Father was strict, and he was not to be fooled.
"Off the land. I plan to make a new life as a knight," I replied. "I am fourteen years of age, and I feel that I am quite capable of making my own living."
"NO. I will not let you do that. Your mother and I need you to help us on the land. Farming is difficult, and Peter is not old enough."
"You can not make me do anything, Father. I still love you, for you are my family. I will send you money, because I do not want you to perish. Go ahead and let Peter be the heir of our household. I'm going to be free! I'm going to capture my dreams!" With that I strode out the door. I hoped that father would forgive me, for that would probably be the last time I would ever talk to him.
But when I turned around to get a very last glimpse of our house, my father sighed and yelled, "I wish you luck, Gregory." I gave my father one last smile. I knew he would come around at some point and support me, even if he choose the very last second. I slung my pack over my shoulder and sprinted towards the river. I ran as fast I ever have, for I was anxious to see how both Bryce and Fendrel would complete this miracle.
When I arrived at the oak tree, they were already there, chatting to each other softly. "Hi, Gregory." said Bryce when he noticed me. "First of all, to become a knight, you'll need some cash," he said, tossing me a bag of coins. My jaw dropped, but I accepted it willingly. He then retreated behind an immensely thick tree and came back with a tall, white horse. The sun glinted off his hair, making it shine like a thousand little diamonds. The horse's saddle bags were filled with clinking metal. Longing for this horse gathered up in my heart, and I could already feel a strong bond between this horse and I. But I knew that it had to have been either Bryce's or Fendrel's.
"Is he yours?" I asked Bryce, overcome with curiosity.
"Nope." Bryce replied.
"Oh. So he's Fendrel's?"
"Wrong again. He's yours, Gregory!" I was speechless as he said this so I let my jaw drop open once again. "His name is Bruno. Go ahead, hop on."
I wandered over to Bruno and looked in his saddlebags. I was astonished when I saw heaping piles of some of the most expensive armor there was. "Where did you get all this?" I questioned.
"That's my uncle's old armor, and I took Bruno from the stables. My father gave me a lot of cash when I became a squire, and that's only part of it. Fendrel's going to fill in the position of your dad, for to be a knight you must have an important father."
“Thank you so much. How can I repay you?” I asked.
“By showing you skill on the battlefield,” Fendrel replied, with a wide smile on his face.
Why would he do such a deed for only a peasant? I asked myself. My best guess was that he only was doing this to make himself look grander. Everybody would think that he would be the greatest knight, because he would have trained me. But I didn't care, for I would do anything to become a knight.
“I can do that,” I said, confident in myself. I saw Fendrel and Bryce mounting their horses, so I hopped on Bruno and chuckled silently to myself. Who knew that I would become a knight? No one believed me. But in that moment I wasn't thinking that I had showed them up, instead I was hoping that my success would allow them to believe in their dreams, too. I gave Bruno a tiny kick and we rode off into the brilliant colors of the sunset. I ran into the colors of flags and ribbons, and I rode into the colors of the sun, the colors of hopes and dreams.
By ~ Claire French
Oregon Trail - A Dog's Story - by Ca80!
Crossing The Dalles September 26th, 1843-
Trying to keep my body above the water's edge, my little gray paws paddled the cold black water. I heard Jenna screaming my name. I caught a quick glimpse of her. Her dirt colored hair stuck to her face like caked mud. Her brown chocolate eyes spilled teardrops. In the storm, it was hard to tell if she was crying, or if her face with wet with streaks of raindrops. I tried to bark for her for her but my weak voice wasn't loud enough. My small, filthy legs were getting pulled down into the oozing, gooey water of the Dalles.
Suddenly, I could see Jenna no more. The water pulled me beneath its icy surface. I closed my eyes and kept trying to paddle to Jenna. I wanted to feel her warm body close to mine and to know that everything would be OK. I wanted hear her call my name with her voice of the sound of sweet birds. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to run next to her fast, fast, fast, while we chased jackrabbits and grouse through the warm prairie grass. I wanted Jenna. I was Jenna's dog. Not Ma's or Pa's, Jenna's. Nothing would ever change that. Reluctantly, I gave up. I would never see my Jenna again. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. She might have to go on without me... She would have go on without me.
Leaving My Home-
It was the springtime of 1843. Flowers were blooming around me in all sorts of colors. Pink, red, yellow, green, and white. The sun shone bright and hot on my gray fur. I loved everything about being a dog. But I wasn't just any dog. I was Jenna's; and Jenna was the very best. Jenna was trudging far in front of me. I scurried to catch up with her as we walked along the Oregon Trail.
Many months I had stayed awake deep into the night resting on Jenna’s lap with only the candle light to keep us warm in the cold of the winter night. We listened to what Ma and Pa discussed.
"A remarkable journey," Pa had said. "These brave people have decided to go ahead of us and try to make our life better. Please allow our family to go. We will not leave without you. The girls and Ned will love Oregon. If we stay here our family will be all alone, abandoned here with no friends!" he would finally yell angrily.
Ma would refuse him again and again. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave my home, my farm, my friends, and my life. I am fine being the only family left here. Honey, this is my life, and I don't know if I can leave it," she would whimper.
"Think about the rest of us. We all want to go. Honey please...," Dad begged. Then, they would stop the conversation and go to sleep. Night after night this would happen. Pa had planned to leave today. They had had their talk last night and then surprisingly, had another one this morning. Before the talk, Pa woke Ma and held out a small gift.
Many hours later, we left the town, all seven of us together. Pa had bought Ma a golden necklace to persuade her to go. The golden necklace was very expensive and Ma put it around her neck immediately. When Pa gave it to her, her eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you. I will never let it leave me ever!" she cried. Ma and Pa sat together on top of the wagon bench. Pa drove the horses and Ma worked on her quilt.
I scurried along the worn path after the wagon. This may sound easy for a dog, but my legs got tired quickly and the wagon moved fast compared to my slow-as-a-snail speed. I felt bad when Jenna would pick me up and carry me for a while because I was walking so slowly. But, Jenna didn't seem to mind. Jenna walked beside me, and every once in a while, we would run off the path a little bit and chase the plump grouse and jack rabbits. We wouldn't let ourselves go too far, or else we would lose the wagon and be stuck out here forever. The warm prairie grass tickled our legs and then we ran back on the path to catch up with the wagon.
Five weeks went by and we had passed Fort Laramie, Chimney, and Courthouse Rock. I loved Chimney Rock. It was tall and beautiful. Jenna along with many others wrote about it in their journals. She described it as looking like a haystack with a pole running through it. I thought it was just a rock and couldn't understand the haystack part; however, I never helped Pa in the fields since I was not a work dog like all of the others. I loved being the only non-work dog in all of Independence because everyone loved me.
Independence Rock July 4th, 1843-
This morning I got to help Jenna with her chores. We milked the cow, got water from the near by stream, helped cook breakfast, washed dishes, collected buffalo chips, shook out blankets, hung beef to dry, and collected wood for tonight’s fire. Even though I was a dog, Jenna had done this before so she was fast and I grew tired quickly. We had to get a lot of supplies for tonight as it was the 4th of July, and we were having a party. Ma and the others made lunch, and Pa and the other men went out on a buffalo hunt. There hadn't been many places with buffalo so they went out today in hopes of a big kill. The pioneers before us had said that Independence Rock was home to many buffalo. We had begun to come low on meat. Ma had started to worry so Pa went out to hunt with all of the other men.
After chores, Jenna changed into her new dress that Pa had got her in Missouri. The cloth was soft and navy blue. Small red flowers were sewn into the top of it and white stems grew them up to the top. And then we went to the party. After the party, we all grew tired and fell fast asleep under the stars cozy in the blankets that Ma had wrapped in oilskin. When she wrapped them, we all had thought that was a stupid idea because it had been hot all week. At midnight we realized what a good idea it was as rain came streaming down. Jenna had snuggled me up in her blanket. I loved hearing the beat…beat...beat... of rain on the blanket above us. It reminded me of our old home in Independence. When the rain would fall, we would run out to the barn and play. The rain was especially loud in the barn. It echoed through the large room, and Jenna and I would hide in the tall haystacks and play. Silently, I fell asleep that night thinking about the memories of the old barn lying on the hillside of Missouri.
Soda Springs 1843-
There it was, Soda Springs. The third to last landmark on our way to Oregon City. Soda Springs was a place with many small pools of carbonated water. Jenna and I skipped to the small spring and drank some of the water. The bubbling pool of water Jenna chose was small and only big enough for a girl and her dog. The land around it was mucky and my paws turned brown. There was no grass or even weeds to wipe my paws off. Jenna picked me up and gently washed my paws off in the water. Soon, they became gray again. Then, as we started to walk back to the wagon, my tummy experienced a sick feeling. Too much bubbling carbonated water for me.
Traveling Some More-
"Ma, I don't feel good," Nellie said as we walked next to the wagon. Ma gave her a nod and Nellie jumped into the back of the wagon. I figured that she drank too much water from Soda Springs, but then I began to realize that it was more than that. She didn't look good; her face was pale. She was coughing. Sweat was dripping down her face, and goose bumps were creeping up her arm. It made me feel sick just looking at her. Jenna stood and waited for me, and I still thought of poor Nellie as Jenna swooped me up from the dirt and carried me. Being a dog was harder than I thought. I was tired but I was also excited to get to Fort Hall tonight.
Fort Hall was located along the Snake River, and most of the fur traders had stopped there to trade with the Indians that had moved near. I couldn't believe that some pioneers before us had abandoned their wagons and animals. They had continued on to Oregon without all their had possessions. Pa had told Jenna that there was a lot of trading there. Pioneers who had left their wagons also had left the things inside them. The pioneers who got there next could either take some of the (?). Ma and Pa had been in the wagon ever since we got here in Fort Hall with Nellie. Pa would come out every now and then to check on us. Then, he would rush back up to the wagon. Nellie had ridden in the wagon all day and quickly fell asleep after she got in the wagon. They said she got malaria. I felt that everything would be OK tomorrow. Ma and Pa returned to the campfire and sat on a spot on the log across from us. Everyone came to them.
"How is Nellie?"
"Is she OK?"
"Will she ride in the wagon tomorrow?" A tear rolled down Ma's cheek and I finally realized what had happened. I looked out to the wagon sitting in the dark. A night breeze curled up my back and the candle had gone out.
The next day we buried Nellie in Fort Hall. Our family was so sad that everyone but Pa rode in the wagon. Even I got to! Inside the prairie schooner there were so many things! I was amazed that the wagon had not cracked yet with all of it. I tried to be happy and cheer everyone up, but it was a gloomy day on the prairie, and probably tomorrow too and the next day and the next. It was going to be a gloomy trip for the next little while.
The Dalles 1843:
Weeks went by and then months. We had finally got to The Dalles River. We'd heard so many stories of this landmark. We knew that this was the river we would have to cross. After this crossing, all we had left was to to go up a little hill, and down to arrive at our destination. I couldn't believe that we had come over 2,000 miles and we were almost there! The day was warm and the sky was blue. We had to wait in a line with hundreds of other people. Our wagons had been sailed across the to the other side and once we got off, we would get them. There was only one boat to ferry people, and only eleven of us could fit on it at one time. The fur traders named it Dalles. Pa had said it was the French word for gutter. I had no idea how he knew French, but evidently he did.
Many minutes went by and finally, it was our turn to get on. It was crowded on the ship and so I decided to curl up and nap for a moment on top of a barrel of sugar. When I woke up, the sky was black and cold winds blew on me. Rain pounded down. Waves crashed against the small raft. We rocked back and forth. People would run around trying to stay on. Jenna was holding tight to Pa. I ran over to her. Just as I saw her hand reach out to me, I slid off the raft!
"Nickel! My dog! Someone help him! Nickel!" Jenna cried. I was trying to keep my body above the water's edge, my little gray paws paddled the cold black water. I heard Jenna screaming my name. I caught a quick glimpse of her. Her dirt colored hair stuck to her face like caked mud. Her brown eyes spilled teardrops. In the storm, it was hard to tell if she was crying, or if her face with wet with streaks of raindrops. I tried to bark for her for her but my weak voice wasn't loud enough. My small, filthy legs were getting pulled down into the oozing, gooey water of the Dalles. Suddenly, I could not see Jenna anymore. The water pulled me beneath its icy surface. I closed my eyes and kept trying to paddle to Jenna. I wanted to feel her warm body close to mine and to know that everything would be OK. I wanted hear her call my name with her voice of the sound of sweet birds. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to run next to her fast, fast, fast, while we chased jackrabbits and grouse through the warm prairie grass. I wanted Jenna. I was Jenna's dog. Not Ma's or Pa's, Jenna's. Nothing would ever change that. Reluctantly, I gave up. I would never see my Jenna again. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. I hoped that she knew I loved her and that I wanted her to go on. For me. She might have to go on without me... She would have go on without me.
By ~ Caitlin
Trying to keep my body above the water's edge, my little gray paws paddled the cold black water. I heard Jenna screaming my name. I caught a quick glimpse of her. Her dirt colored hair stuck to her face like caked mud. Her brown chocolate eyes spilled teardrops. In the storm, it was hard to tell if she was crying, or if her face with wet with streaks of raindrops. I tried to bark for her for her but my weak voice wasn't loud enough. My small, filthy legs were getting pulled down into the oozing, gooey water of the Dalles.
Suddenly, I could see Jenna no more. The water pulled me beneath its icy surface. I closed my eyes and kept trying to paddle to Jenna. I wanted to feel her warm body close to mine and to know that everything would be OK. I wanted hear her call my name with her voice of the sound of sweet birds. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to run next to her fast, fast, fast, while we chased jackrabbits and grouse through the warm prairie grass. I wanted Jenna. I was Jenna's dog. Not Ma's or Pa's, Jenna's. Nothing would ever change that. Reluctantly, I gave up. I would never see my Jenna again. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. She might have to go on without me... She would have go on without me.
Leaving My Home-
It was the springtime of 1843. Flowers were blooming around me in all sorts of colors. Pink, red, yellow, green, and white. The sun shone bright and hot on my gray fur. I loved everything about being a dog. But I wasn't just any dog. I was Jenna's; and Jenna was the very best. Jenna was trudging far in front of me. I scurried to catch up with her as we walked along the Oregon Trail.
Many months I had stayed awake deep into the night resting on Jenna’s lap with only the candle light to keep us warm in the cold of the winter night. We listened to what Ma and Pa discussed.
"A remarkable journey," Pa had said. "These brave people have decided to go ahead of us and try to make our life better. Please allow our family to go. We will not leave without you. The girls and Ned will love Oregon. If we stay here our family will be all alone, abandoned here with no friends!" he would finally yell angrily.
Ma would refuse him again and again. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave my home, my farm, my friends, and my life. I am fine being the only family left here. Honey, this is my life, and I don't know if I can leave it," she would whimper.
"Think about the rest of us. We all want to go. Honey please...," Dad begged. Then, they would stop the conversation and go to sleep. Night after night this would happen. Pa had planned to leave today. They had had their talk last night and then surprisingly, had another one this morning. Before the talk, Pa woke Ma and held out a small gift.
Many hours later, we left the town, all seven of us together. Pa had bought Ma a golden necklace to persuade her to go. The golden necklace was very expensive and Ma put it around her neck immediately. When Pa gave it to her, her eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you. I will never let it leave me ever!" she cried. Ma and Pa sat together on top of the wagon bench. Pa drove the horses and Ma worked on her quilt.
I scurried along the worn path after the wagon. This may sound easy for a dog, but my legs got tired quickly and the wagon moved fast compared to my slow-as-a-snail speed. I felt bad when Jenna would pick me up and carry me for a while because I was walking so slowly. But, Jenna didn't seem to mind. Jenna walked beside me, and every once in a while, we would run off the path a little bit and chase the plump grouse and jack rabbits. We wouldn't let ourselves go too far, or else we would lose the wagon and be stuck out here forever. The warm prairie grass tickled our legs and then we ran back on the path to catch up with the wagon.
Five weeks went by and we had passed Fort Laramie, Chimney, and Courthouse Rock. I loved Chimney Rock. It was tall and beautiful. Jenna along with many others wrote about it in their journals. She described it as looking like a haystack with a pole running through it. I thought it was just a rock and couldn't understand the haystack part; however, I never helped Pa in the fields since I was not a work dog like all of the others. I loved being the only non-work dog in all of Independence because everyone loved me.
Independence Rock July 4th, 1843-
This morning I got to help Jenna with her chores. We milked the cow, got water from the near by stream, helped cook breakfast, washed dishes, collected buffalo chips, shook out blankets, hung beef to dry, and collected wood for tonight’s fire. Even though I was a dog, Jenna had done this before so she was fast and I grew tired quickly. We had to get a lot of supplies for tonight as it was the 4th of July, and we were having a party. Ma and the others made lunch, and Pa and the other men went out on a buffalo hunt. There hadn't been many places with buffalo so they went out today in hopes of a big kill. The pioneers before us had said that Independence Rock was home to many buffalo. We had begun to come low on meat. Ma had started to worry so Pa went out to hunt with all of the other men.
After chores, Jenna changed into her new dress that Pa had got her in Missouri. The cloth was soft and navy blue. Small red flowers were sewn into the top of it and white stems grew them up to the top. And then we went to the party. After the party, we all grew tired and fell fast asleep under the stars cozy in the blankets that Ma had wrapped in oilskin. When she wrapped them, we all had thought that was a stupid idea because it had been hot all week. At midnight we realized what a good idea it was as rain came streaming down. Jenna had snuggled me up in her blanket. I loved hearing the beat…beat...beat... of rain on the blanket above us. It reminded me of our old home in Independence. When the rain would fall, we would run out to the barn and play. The rain was especially loud in the barn. It echoed through the large room, and Jenna and I would hide in the tall haystacks and play. Silently, I fell asleep that night thinking about the memories of the old barn lying on the hillside of Missouri.
Soda Springs 1843-
There it was, Soda Springs. The third to last landmark on our way to Oregon City. Soda Springs was a place with many small pools of carbonated water. Jenna and I skipped to the small spring and drank some of the water. The bubbling pool of water Jenna chose was small and only big enough for a girl and her dog. The land around it was mucky and my paws turned brown. There was no grass or even weeds to wipe my paws off. Jenna picked me up and gently washed my paws off in the water. Soon, they became gray again. Then, as we started to walk back to the wagon, my tummy experienced a sick feeling. Too much bubbling carbonated water for me.
Traveling Some More-
"Ma, I don't feel good," Nellie said as we walked next to the wagon. Ma gave her a nod and Nellie jumped into the back of the wagon. I figured that she drank too much water from Soda Springs, but then I began to realize that it was more than that. She didn't look good; her face was pale. She was coughing. Sweat was dripping down her face, and goose bumps were creeping up her arm. It made me feel sick just looking at her. Jenna stood and waited for me, and I still thought of poor Nellie as Jenna swooped me up from the dirt and carried me. Being a dog was harder than I thought. I was tired but I was also excited to get to Fort Hall tonight.
Fort Hall was located along the Snake River, and most of the fur traders had stopped there to trade with the Indians that had moved near. I couldn't believe that some pioneers before us had abandoned their wagons and animals. They had continued on to Oregon without all their had possessions. Pa had told Jenna that there was a lot of trading there. Pioneers who had left their wagons also had left the things inside them. The pioneers who got there next could either take some of the (?). Ma and Pa had been in the wagon ever since we got here in Fort Hall with Nellie. Pa would come out every now and then to check on us. Then, he would rush back up to the wagon. Nellie had ridden in the wagon all day and quickly fell asleep after she got in the wagon. They said she got malaria. I felt that everything would be OK tomorrow. Ma and Pa returned to the campfire and sat on a spot on the log across from us. Everyone came to them.
"How is Nellie?"
"Is she OK?"
"Will she ride in the wagon tomorrow?" A tear rolled down Ma's cheek and I finally realized what had happened. I looked out to the wagon sitting in the dark. A night breeze curled up my back and the candle had gone out.
The next day we buried Nellie in Fort Hall. Our family was so sad that everyone but Pa rode in the wagon. Even I got to! Inside the prairie schooner there were so many things! I was amazed that the wagon had not cracked yet with all of it. I tried to be happy and cheer everyone up, but it was a gloomy day on the prairie, and probably tomorrow too and the next day and the next. It was going to be a gloomy trip for the next little while.
The Dalles 1843:
Weeks went by and then months. We had finally got to The Dalles River. We'd heard so many stories of this landmark. We knew that this was the river we would have to cross. After this crossing, all we had left was to to go up a little hill, and down to arrive at our destination. I couldn't believe that we had come over 2,000 miles and we were almost there! The day was warm and the sky was blue. We had to wait in a line with hundreds of other people. Our wagons had been sailed across the to the other side and once we got off, we would get them. There was only one boat to ferry people, and only eleven of us could fit on it at one time. The fur traders named it Dalles. Pa had said it was the French word for gutter. I had no idea how he knew French, but evidently he did.
Many minutes went by and finally, it was our turn to get on. It was crowded on the ship and so I decided to curl up and nap for a moment on top of a barrel of sugar. When I woke up, the sky was black and cold winds blew on me. Rain pounded down. Waves crashed against the small raft. We rocked back and forth. People would run around trying to stay on. Jenna was holding tight to Pa. I ran over to her. Just as I saw her hand reach out to me, I slid off the raft!
"Nickel! My dog! Someone help him! Nickel!" Jenna cried. I was trying to keep my body above the water's edge, my little gray paws paddled the cold black water. I heard Jenna screaming my name. I caught a quick glimpse of her. Her dirt colored hair stuck to her face like caked mud. Her brown eyes spilled teardrops. In the storm, it was hard to tell if she was crying, or if her face with wet with streaks of raindrops. I tried to bark for her for her but my weak voice wasn't loud enough. My small, filthy legs were getting pulled down into the oozing, gooey water of the Dalles. Suddenly, I could not see Jenna anymore. The water pulled me beneath its icy surface. I closed my eyes and kept trying to paddle to Jenna. I wanted to feel her warm body close to mine and to know that everything would be OK. I wanted hear her call my name with her voice of the sound of sweet birds. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to run next to her fast, fast, fast, while we chased jackrabbits and grouse through the warm prairie grass. I wanted Jenna. I was Jenna's dog. Not Ma's or Pa's, Jenna's. Nothing would ever change that. Reluctantly, I gave up. I would never see my Jenna again. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. I knew that Jenna would be heart broken. I hoped that she knew I loved her and that I wanted her to go on. For me. She might have to go on without me... She would have go on without me.
By ~ Caitlin
Nascar ~ by Matt
War. I can hear gun shots all around me. I can see men falling at my side. I can feel the cold of the gun, and all around me is war. It doesn't bother me, though, as I am fighting for freedom. I continue fighting despite the nagging thought that I might not return home.
I did make it home, and it had been three years since the war ended and still I had no job. My family was patient at first, but then they started getting eager for me to get a job. All I wanted to do, though, was race. Last year, Nascar was founded by Bill France, my dad's friend. He was a gas station owner and amateur racer. February 15, 1948 just South of Dayton Beach was debut race. I went. It was amazing. 14,000 fans came to watch. The cars sped around the track at fast speeds, generating winds that gusted all the way to the top of the grand stand where I was sitting. The cars raced with so much force. It was the first time I had felt this kind of excitement since returning home. I knew I had to get the job, race, and win.
The morning after the race I knew that something was wrong with dad. I felt his forehead. It was hotter than the hottest sun that ever beat down on my back. I wanted to feel the same happiness I felt when I watched the racing, but there was nothing. That feeling was gone. All I could think of now is how dad was doing. The next moment when I looked up, the doctor was coming toward me. I can sense there was sadness and fear in his eyes. I thought, Is there something wrong? He showed me into the room were dad was. As I walked in, I could feel the sadness. I could see dad on the hospital bed, lying in pain. I glanced at the heart monitor; it was almost a straight line. The doctor said he might not make it through the night. At that moment, for the first time, I felt scared for Dad's survival. If we only had more money, he could get the medicine that could save his life.
The next morning I decided right then and there what I was going to do to help my dad. So I ran out to the racetrack as fast as I could and asked Bill France if I could race on the Nascar Winston cup circuit to help dad. At first he shrugged. When I mentioned dad, he gave me the job faster than any jackrabbit I ever saw. He said, "Tomorrow you start practicing," and showed me all around the track.
I could practiced using his secondary car. It felt like I belonged there, and with Bill as my teacher, it was great. The car was built for speed in every way, and it was so nice I almost won my first race in it. But it was a little too beefed up and on one of the turns I kept my foot on the gas a little too long. I flew up the racetrack and hit the wall on the final turn, letting the Red Byron pass me and I lost the race. I broke my right leg in the crash, so I couldn't race with just my left leg. I thought, My family is right; I shouldn't have raced. But I had so much of a lead from the third place guy, and so much momentum to get second place. I didn't win, and I didn't get enough money to save Dad. I needed to continue.
The next weekend I went to the hospital and dad is still alive, and when racing came up in my mind again, I didn't know what to do. I had two thoughts in my mind: stay and help versus go and race. I knew that if I asked my father, he would say go and race, so I did. I went down to the track. I knew I had to do something so I asked everyone if they had secondary car. Everyone said no excepted one. Buck Backer was really sick and couldn't race but he had a car to race. I asked him if I could borrow his car for the race. He gave me the keys; I was so astonished that someone would let me use their car. That car was even better than Bill France's car. This race I knew my mistake and this time I kept the car off of the wall at the last turn and won the race. I thought, Wow I did it! My family was wrong - I can race, and I will be good at it! I threw my hands in the air and listened as the crowd cheered.
I raced into Victory Lane and grabbed my big check. I took a few pictures for the newspaper and a magazine. I then raced away from the press and back to the hospital. As I ran in, I was saying to my self, “Please still be here, please still be here, please please still be here.” And on the bed there was dad still hanging on. I let out a big sigh of relief. Everyone was so excited I was back to help. I pulled out the huge check and everybody almost fainted they were so excited to see a gigantic check for $10,000 dollars. I had saved Dad the check payed for the surgery and still had enough money left over to buy my own car to race in.
My Dad is as great as ever, even though he is still sore from the surgery. He is teaching me how to race well. I haven’t been a part of the racing action since dad’s surgery. We headed down to the racetrack and the racers were packing up for another race, and were on the road following the group of race haulers traveling all over the country from Daytona Beach, Florida to Fontana, California 38 weeks a year were on the move racing.
By ~ Matt
I did make it home, and it had been three years since the war ended and still I had no job. My family was patient at first, but then they started getting eager for me to get a job. All I wanted to do, though, was race. Last year, Nascar was founded by Bill France, my dad's friend. He was a gas station owner and amateur racer. February 15, 1948 just South of Dayton Beach was debut race. I went. It was amazing. 14,000 fans came to watch. The cars sped around the track at fast speeds, generating winds that gusted all the way to the top of the grand stand where I was sitting. The cars raced with so much force. It was the first time I had felt this kind of excitement since returning home. I knew I had to get the job, race, and win.
The morning after the race I knew that something was wrong with dad. I felt his forehead. It was hotter than the hottest sun that ever beat down on my back. I wanted to feel the same happiness I felt when I watched the racing, but there was nothing. That feeling was gone. All I could think of now is how dad was doing. The next moment when I looked up, the doctor was coming toward me. I can sense there was sadness and fear in his eyes. I thought, Is there something wrong? He showed me into the room were dad was. As I walked in, I could feel the sadness. I could see dad on the hospital bed, lying in pain. I glanced at the heart monitor; it was almost a straight line. The doctor said he might not make it through the night. At that moment, for the first time, I felt scared for Dad's survival. If we only had more money, he could get the medicine that could save his life.
The next morning I decided right then and there what I was going to do to help my dad. So I ran out to the racetrack as fast as I could and asked Bill France if I could race on the Nascar Winston cup circuit to help dad. At first he shrugged. When I mentioned dad, he gave me the job faster than any jackrabbit I ever saw. He said, "Tomorrow you start practicing," and showed me all around the track.
I could practiced using his secondary car. It felt like I belonged there, and with Bill as my teacher, it was great. The car was built for speed in every way, and it was so nice I almost won my first race in it. But it was a little too beefed up and on one of the turns I kept my foot on the gas a little too long. I flew up the racetrack and hit the wall on the final turn, letting the Red Byron pass me and I lost the race. I broke my right leg in the crash, so I couldn't race with just my left leg. I thought, My family is right; I shouldn't have raced. But I had so much of a lead from the third place guy, and so much momentum to get second place. I didn't win, and I didn't get enough money to save Dad. I needed to continue.
The next weekend I went to the hospital and dad is still alive, and when racing came up in my mind again, I didn't know what to do. I had two thoughts in my mind: stay and help versus go and race. I knew that if I asked my father, he would say go and race, so I did. I went down to the track. I knew I had to do something so I asked everyone if they had secondary car. Everyone said no excepted one. Buck Backer was really sick and couldn't race but he had a car to race. I asked him if I could borrow his car for the race. He gave me the keys; I was so astonished that someone would let me use their car. That car was even better than Bill France's car. This race I knew my mistake and this time I kept the car off of the wall at the last turn and won the race. I thought, Wow I did it! My family was wrong - I can race, and I will be good at it! I threw my hands in the air and listened as the crowd cheered.
I raced into Victory Lane and grabbed my big check. I took a few pictures for the newspaper and a magazine. I then raced away from the press and back to the hospital. As I ran in, I was saying to my self, “Please still be here, please still be here, please please still be here.” And on the bed there was dad still hanging on. I let out a big sigh of relief. Everyone was so excited I was back to help. I pulled out the huge check and everybody almost fainted they were so excited to see a gigantic check for $10,000 dollars. I had saved Dad the check payed for the surgery and still had enough money left over to buy my own car to race in.
My Dad is as great as ever, even though he is still sore from the surgery. He is teaching me how to race well. I haven’t been a part of the racing action since dad’s surgery. We headed down to the racetrack and the racers were packing up for another race, and were on the road following the group of race haulers traveling all over the country from Daytona Beach, Florida to Fontana, California 38 weeks a year were on the move racing.
By ~ Matt
Abigail Adams ~ by River
Revolutionary War:
"You go into the battlefield, because you are stronger and larger and know about the war, and we will stay home and keep the children cared for, that they may grow up strong to help you by and by; we will spin and weave day and night to keep you in yarn for stockings, and in cloth for clothes and blankets to keep you warm; we will plant, and harvest, and grind the corn, and do all your work on the farm that here may be food to send you, and food to keep you from starving when you all come home again." I said this to my husband as he left for war against Britain, a long time ago. I said this to him to remind him that someone still has to do the work, that the women are also fighting this war. If it wasn't for us, the men wouldn't be free to fight in the war, there wouldn't be anyone to fight in the war. Who would do the men's work? Women, that's who.
Pre-War:
Before I get too far into my war story, I think I should tell you a bit about myself. I used to be young. I was fair and had wonderful times. I was and still am a well-educated woman, though I am self-taught. I was married to my husband John on October 25, 1764. During our first ten years of marriage, I gave birth to six children, but only five of them survived. My first child was a girl, Abigail. We called her Nabby. My second child was my first son, John Quincy Adams. Susanna was my third, then Charles, and then Thomas. My sixth child, Elizabeth, was my last. She died as an infant. I love all my children very much, and wouldn't want anything to happen to them, but when I think about Elizabeth, my heart falls.
1765 - The Stamp Act:
I think often of 1765. I remember the first time I heard of the "Stamp Act" - it was an evil time for me...
"John, will you pick me up some tea please?" I said in my pleading voice. He laughed loudly. I was shocked! How dare he laugh at me.
"Sorry but you're going to have to make your own tea!" he said.
More shock was appearing on my face. My own tea?! I thought. "But I thought that stamp act was just a silly mistake; I thought you already communicated with the king," I said to my husband in a curious voice.
He looked at me like I was crazy; I could hear his heart beating. It was so quiet. Ba boom, Ba boom! "Well, then, I guess I should be on my way," my husband said after the awkward moment of silence. "I'm off to go with Sam, Paul, and George." He was a Son of Liberty. Sons of Liberty were very interesting to me, they fought in war to demand that they were treated fairly by the King, but they also tarred and feathered Tories. Humph men can be such children. If John wasn't in Sons of Liberty, he could spend even more time with me and the children. But, being a member was John's dream; it was his passion! I respected that passion even tough I was jealous of his time spent away from the family.
As I lived with the boycott of the Stamp Act, I was at the edge of outrage! I didn't want to give up my British made-dress and the wonderful tea they had. Instead, I was drinking Liberty Tea.
"EWW!" "What is this?!" I asked my friend Betty.
"Liberty Tea darling!" She said with a sweet smile. It tasted like cat nip. That's just what it was. "I'm off to get some more sage. See you in a bit."
Sage? I thought, In the tea!...That was just great!
Tar and Feathers:
That day had dragged on when I decided to get away from the house and the children for a while and went for a evening stroll, but that evening stroll was one of the worst. I never thought I would see what I was about to witness. Tar and feathers were everywhere. I didn't know what was happening, but as the moon glinted on the beautiful liberty tree, I saw my husband and his group tarring a Tory! I wasn't mad; I was scared! I hide behind another tree so he wouldn't see me, but as I watched, I thought, Has the King really brought him this far from the kind and gentle person I married? I could understand killing on the battlefield where his own life was in danger, but this? The tar was seeping through the victim's skin, slowly suffocating the surface. It was burning the life out of the victim. As if the pain from the tar was not enough, the embarrassment of the feathers was terrible. Before the victim died, he was forced to endure the final humiliation of choking down Britain's tea.
All of the pain and torture...all that was happening to the victim was happening under the beautiful liberty tree. This is all I could see in my head, the screams were all I could hear. All I could feel was pricking of my skin. My arms were tingling and it felt like my feet were swelling because they waned to run. Fighting for freedom had brought him to this. He really did go around killing Tories. Now I knew how serious this was to him, and why he laughed and gave that strange look to me, when I asked him to pick me up some tea. I had to buckle down and take his cause more seriously seriously. I walked away without him noticing me. I wasn't scared anymore; I was almost proud. Almost. This really was his passion, and I finally understood.
The Tea Party:
I was looking for a way to make a difference when Mr. Thomas Hutchinson came to us with a plan. "GO GO GO" Thomas Hutchinson said in a hushed voice. "Hurry, everybody is ready and dressed."
It was the day I remember so well; it was the Boston Tea Party. One of my husband's great friends, Thomas, was leading many colonists in an act that would tell Britain what we thought of the tax on tea and many of my other favorite materials, such as those beautiful English dresses! "No taxation without representation!" I said in the same loud voice as Thomas. I helped the men paint the costumes so they wold look like Mohawk Indians! Of course, we did not use British paint. The men looked brave and proud; they were ready to act. They headed out, blowing a whistle as they ran. They had a wonderful plan, and they did prefect a perfect job. They had dumped over 90,000 pounds of tea into the Boston Harbor!!! I was so proud of John. I was proud that he was involved and that I could help!
The Revolutionary War:
At first, I never really thought about the stamp act, the war, or the soldiers. But when I think about it now, it makes sense; they were fighting for our country. I was fighting for my country, for our freedom from Britain. Even though I was only a lady and couldn't fight in the physical war, I was still a Daughter of Liberty. It was not the fighting that is only important. It is not only the fighting that caused the victory. It was believing strongly in a cause that was just. I could not understand my husband until I found the passion for myself. I would urge everyone to find something they believe in and try to make a difference. If I can pass this lesson on as my legacy, I can rest in peace.
By ~ River
"You go into the battlefield, because you are stronger and larger and know about the war, and we will stay home and keep the children cared for, that they may grow up strong to help you by and by; we will spin and weave day and night to keep you in yarn for stockings, and in cloth for clothes and blankets to keep you warm; we will plant, and harvest, and grind the corn, and do all your work on the farm that here may be food to send you, and food to keep you from starving when you all come home again." I said this to my husband as he left for war against Britain, a long time ago. I said this to him to remind him that someone still has to do the work, that the women are also fighting this war. If it wasn't for us, the men wouldn't be free to fight in the war, there wouldn't be anyone to fight in the war. Who would do the men's work? Women, that's who.
Pre-War:
Before I get too far into my war story, I think I should tell you a bit about myself. I used to be young. I was fair and had wonderful times. I was and still am a well-educated woman, though I am self-taught. I was married to my husband John on October 25, 1764. During our first ten years of marriage, I gave birth to six children, but only five of them survived. My first child was a girl, Abigail. We called her Nabby. My second child was my first son, John Quincy Adams. Susanna was my third, then Charles, and then Thomas. My sixth child, Elizabeth, was my last. She died as an infant. I love all my children very much, and wouldn't want anything to happen to them, but when I think about Elizabeth, my heart falls.
1765 - The Stamp Act:
I think often of 1765. I remember the first time I heard of the "Stamp Act" - it was an evil time for me...
"John, will you pick me up some tea please?" I said in my pleading voice. He laughed loudly. I was shocked! How dare he laugh at me.
"Sorry but you're going to have to make your own tea!" he said.
More shock was appearing on my face. My own tea?! I thought. "But I thought that stamp act was just a silly mistake; I thought you already communicated with the king," I said to my husband in a curious voice.
He looked at me like I was crazy; I could hear his heart beating. It was so quiet. Ba boom, Ba boom! "Well, then, I guess I should be on my way," my husband said after the awkward moment of silence. "I'm off to go with Sam, Paul, and George." He was a Son of Liberty. Sons of Liberty were very interesting to me, they fought in war to demand that they were treated fairly by the King, but they also tarred and feathered Tories. Humph men can be such children. If John wasn't in Sons of Liberty, he could spend even more time with me and the children. But, being a member was John's dream; it was his passion! I respected that passion even tough I was jealous of his time spent away from the family.
As I lived with the boycott of the Stamp Act, I was at the edge of outrage! I didn't want to give up my British made-dress and the wonderful tea they had. Instead, I was drinking Liberty Tea.
"EWW!" "What is this?!" I asked my friend Betty.
"Liberty Tea darling!" She said with a sweet smile. It tasted like cat nip. That's just what it was. "I'm off to get some more sage. See you in a bit."
Sage? I thought, In the tea!...That was just great!
Tar and Feathers:
That day had dragged on when I decided to get away from the house and the children for a while and went for a evening stroll, but that evening stroll was one of the worst. I never thought I would see what I was about to witness. Tar and feathers were everywhere. I didn't know what was happening, but as the moon glinted on the beautiful liberty tree, I saw my husband and his group tarring a Tory! I wasn't mad; I was scared! I hide behind another tree so he wouldn't see me, but as I watched, I thought, Has the King really brought him this far from the kind and gentle person I married? I could understand killing on the battlefield where his own life was in danger, but this? The tar was seeping through the victim's skin, slowly suffocating the surface. It was burning the life out of the victim. As if the pain from the tar was not enough, the embarrassment of the feathers was terrible. Before the victim died, he was forced to endure the final humiliation of choking down Britain's tea.
All of the pain and torture...all that was happening to the victim was happening under the beautiful liberty tree. This is all I could see in my head, the screams were all I could hear. All I could feel was pricking of my skin. My arms were tingling and it felt like my feet were swelling because they waned to run. Fighting for freedom had brought him to this. He really did go around killing Tories. Now I knew how serious this was to him, and why he laughed and gave that strange look to me, when I asked him to pick me up some tea. I had to buckle down and take his cause more seriously seriously. I walked away without him noticing me. I wasn't scared anymore; I was almost proud. Almost. This really was his passion, and I finally understood.
The Tea Party:
I was looking for a way to make a difference when Mr. Thomas Hutchinson came to us with a plan. "GO GO GO" Thomas Hutchinson said in a hushed voice. "Hurry, everybody is ready and dressed."
It was the day I remember so well; it was the Boston Tea Party. One of my husband's great friends, Thomas, was leading many colonists in an act that would tell Britain what we thought of the tax on tea and many of my other favorite materials, such as those beautiful English dresses! "No taxation without representation!" I said in the same loud voice as Thomas. I helped the men paint the costumes so they wold look like Mohawk Indians! Of course, we did not use British paint. The men looked brave and proud; they were ready to act. They headed out, blowing a whistle as they ran. They had a wonderful plan, and they did prefect a perfect job. They had dumped over 90,000 pounds of tea into the Boston Harbor!!! I was so proud of John. I was proud that he was involved and that I could help!
The Revolutionary War:
At first, I never really thought about the stamp act, the war, or the soldiers. But when I think about it now, it makes sense; they were fighting for our country. I was fighting for my country, for our freedom from Britain. Even though I was only a lady and couldn't fight in the physical war, I was still a Daughter of Liberty. It was not the fighting that is only important. It is not only the fighting that caused the victory. It was believing strongly in a cause that was just. I could not understand my husband until I found the passion for myself. I would urge everyone to find something they believe in and try to make a difference. If I can pass this lesson on as my legacy, I can rest in peace.
By ~ River
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