The Revolution

[Motep]

I was bored, so I decided to write something. Its not the best, but, here it is:

Part one: Rude Awakening


It was Midnight in Medford Town, the night of April 18, 1775. It was a chilly night, and the constellations were clear to the naked eye, not a cloud in the dark sky. A rider could be heard upon the wind, rushing up the south road. I stirred in my bed as I heard the sound, slowly awakening. I sat up in my bed, hearing the rider upon the road. After a few moments of staring at the window, I laid back in bed, and recovered myself with the blanket. It was likely just another traveler. We had many of those nowadays, but never as much as in the old days, thanks to the British. It was causing some of the local inns to become short of funds…one closed here just last week. I closed my eyes, trying to recapture the dream that I had been enjoying.
That, though was driven from me as the Rider I had heard Began to shout. I could not recognize the words right away, but when they sunk in, I bolted to my feet, the blanket falling to the floor. The British were coming. The speaker of the words sounded vaguely familiar, though I could not quite place it. I hastily tugged on my boots and blue coat, grabbed my musket, and raced down to the door and out to the narrow street. Many others were doing the same, and many a torch had been lit, so sight was no longer an issue. The rider had already passed through; several blocks away his voice was still audible. Who was that man? I nearly lost my skin as a hand clutched me by the shoulder. I spun around in a flash, an was startled to see captain Blake. He was a short, stocky man in his middle years. “Well, what ye be doin’ standin’ there like ye took root. Follo’ me, we need ye back at the barracks” With that said he took off down the road. His voice was a scraggly as his beard, but he was good at giving orders, and long overdue for a promotion. Before I could really think, I was scurrying after.
We were just a few minutes run away from the Barracks, so it was not a long journey. But, by the time we had got there, the rest of the Ragtag Militia of about 20 men was assembled in the square. Blake ran up to take command, as I fell in behind John Mayfield, my good friend and neighbor. He was a young, lanky fellow, with hair the color of fresh picked corn, and the most ragtag uniform this side of the Delaware. The rider was already at the edge of the village, and with one last look at us, he departed from the village. I finally recognized him. It was the Paul revere fellow from Boston. Nice man…he once made my mother the most beautiful teapot she ever did have. Blake ordered us to march for Lexington, and we left the village of Medford from the west road, the last some of us would ever see of it.

[Ludens]

Interesting start. Please continue .

[Motep]

As I had said, it was a chilly night, that. Not to cold for a cloak, but my mis-matched uniform hardly kept me warm. At least I was able to get my blood flowing on the dull and dreary march from Medford. There were only 20 of us, but we somehow managed to fill the road, standing in rows of two or three. Captain Blake kept up the pace as it was, at this rate, we might reach Lexington in time to ward off the Brits. Hopefully. I didn’t help we had to come a half every hundred paces or so, when somebody tripped over an exposed root, or a loose stone. But, it did not stop us for long, and Blake made damn sure we made up for lost time. That man ran us like mules, and after just a couple of miles, we were near worn out.
It was a good thing; it lightened my heart, when Blake ordered a brief rest. I slumped underneath a near pine like a sack of ‘taters, and nearly went to sleep when my old buddy John Mayfield slipped in beside me. His face was matted down with sweat, and that, in combination with the lighting, made his hair the color of cornbread. I attempted weakly to stifle down a laugh, and managed to allow only a solitary giggle to escape. “What’s so funny, George?!” He knew that I was laughing at him. “Nothing, Nothing…” I was beginning to think he was going to bore into my brain with the glare he directed my way. It slowly subsided, but failed to disappear completely. He was a man easily upset. “Have ya heard the news?” Now it may be his turn to laugh at me. “No, I haven’t…what news…?” I probably looked very stupid at that moment, but no matter. “They’ve already reached Lexington…they must have been flyin’ down road!” He failed to keep the excitement off his face, and out of his voice. He wasn’t the brightest candle of the bunch. “You know what that means?! Were gonna fight them British Bastards and win us a good ‘un, you’ll see soon enough!” He really hated the British it was their taxes that landed his father in debtor’s jail. He was about to continue, but was interrupted by the new order from Captain Blake. Looks like well be back on the road again…just when I was starting to enjoy the break.
“Okay men, Ill need ye to listen up now. They’ve already taken Lexington, and Ill be damned if we can stop them takin’ Concord, but we sure as hell can stop their comin’ back to Boston, which, doubtless, is where they be headin’. Now, we’ll nee’ to join up with the res’ of the militia in the area, if we have any hop of getting’ this plan to a start. It’s gonna’ be tough goin’, but I know ye can do the job. We gotta hide in the bush, and behin’ the wall, ye all know there be a wall on the road, right?” After a quick nod of agreement from most of us, he continued. “So, well be hidin’ behin’ the walls and such, and those Reds’ll be comin’ right down the road, right to us. We’ll have our li’l trap in set for ‘em, and bam! We’ll strike, like snakes, on their unsuspectin’ feet. With all hope, our buddies in Concord’ll be able to stop ‘em in their tracks, and they’ll be in a rout, all ready for the plunder. With all hope, none of us’ll die in the act.”