"Mama", I yelled, "Where did you put the soap? Mom?" There was no answer. I searched the house and outside for any sign of my mom. I found nothing. "Where is Mama?" I asked my little sister. "I think she's with Daddy," she said. I searched the house once more and found her in the living room crying on Dad's shoulder. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you going away again Daddy?" "Yes daughter, Daddy has to go away and join the militia unit for a few weeks. I'll be back soon. I promise."
I saw the worry in Mama's eyes. Daddy had gone to fight in the American Revolution once before, and almost never came back. It was a sad day for all of us. Daddy asked me to get all of his things packed up and to get his horse ready. He was going to change into his uniform. We all gave him a goodbye hug, and then we watched him ride off with some of his army friends. Everyone was crying, except for me. I couldn't cry when I wished I could. I could only cry when there was nothing to cry about. My younger brother started running down the road, yelling at Daddy. "I can't believe you would leave us like this, once again! Come back!" I grabbed him by his arm and held him back. Still yelling, he calmed down slowly. I held him tight as he cried.
We didn't sleep much that night. Every once in a while, you would hear crying. The crying 13essened and I could tell everyone was asleep now. Then, I heard the galloping of a horse. "Daddy" I whispered. I sat up and stood as quietly as I could. The floor squeaked as I walked across it. And the heavy breathing of a child. Someone was awake! I turned around, and my smaller brother was wide-eyed with fear. I ran to him to keep him from screaming. "What're you doing Sis?" He sounded as if he had to scream to make me hear.
"Shhh!" I put my finger to my mouth. There's someone outside. We both tip¬toed to the door and stepped outside. Then, I heard "thump". I'd dropped my flashlight! 1 bent down to pick it up. A black book shined in the moonlight. "Move out of my way, peasant," came a deep, frightful voice. 1 looked up to the man's navy-blue uniform, then to his face. Then his matching hat. I then noticed his badges. They said "British Military". I scrambled to my feet and ran away. 1 remembered my brother and turned back. The man had him at gunpoint! "BOOM!" My mom came outside and saw then men standing. Me, on bended knees, unable to cry, and my brother, her son, dead.
"Who are you", she screamed. The man came after us with his group of men behind him. We ran for our lives in the house, picking and waking up kids along the way. We all hid beside the backdoor, me with my broomstick in hand. The man crept in the door and I swung at him. Down he went, then I saw the other men running behind him. My mom took the kids as far as she could run to hide them in the forest. She came back as I was fighting off some of the men. One of the men threw me to the ground. Just as he was about to shoot me, I saw my mom's face in the corner of my eye. The next thing I knew, the man was lying on me, unconscious. "Mama", I yelled. "Where are you?”
I saw Mama, in the arms of a British soldier behind me. He had a gun to her head. "All we want is some food and supplies. If we don't get these things, we will burn your house down! Now, what will it be? Remember, which ever one you choose, you loose either way, but which is more important?" I thought long and hard. "Come on, we don't have all day!" Then, it happened. I felt the hot, wet feel of a tear go down my cheek. I was crying! For the first time in years, I was actually crying. I picked up the pitchfork lying beside me and ran toward the man as fast as I could. It went straight through him. He and I fell to the ground as I heard my name being called by Mama. I felt two, three, four sharp, shooting pains in my back. The force from falling on the ground knocked the air out of me for a while. Then, I heard Mama say "You've been shot! Stand up! Speak to me!" I felt a mixture of Mama's and my tears on my cheeks. As flames rose behind her, I turned and watched Mama and my siblings, running, crying, screaming, yelling. I knew they could make it away from the British. I had just enough strength to get the gun beside me and shoot all of the men burning my house. Suddenly, my world was dark. Pitch black.
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