Life Was... Good

6 days later, July 7th, 1742, 1:57 AM

             Six days later, the day was… well, just like usual. The father and son did their chores, ate food together, and went back to sleep. It was just like any other day, and when they went to sleep, it was quiet and peaceful outside.

             It was about two in the morning when Cyrus woke up to the sound of a muffled bang outside and immediately sat up in his bed, slinging his blanket off of him and standing up. He quickly rushed to his son's room and opened the door, revealing his already awake son, who was also awoken by the loud noise outside. Cyrus was about to say something, but he was interrupted by the sound of a cannon firing outside. Cyrus immediately took his son by the fabric of his sleeve and pulled him out of his bed and out of his room. Nathan didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t need to. He knew what was happening. They both rushed out of the room and went to the living room, where they looked out the window and saw at least 500 Spanish soldiers battling outside of his house, maybe 400 feet away at a minimum. The Spanish troops were shooting at the English troops, who were entrenched in a defensive position near the marsh. Cyrus took a deep breath. The air was filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the distant echoes of musket fire mixed with the booming sound of cannons. Cyrus gripped Nathan’s shoulder and assessed the situation with a determined gaze. Without hesitation, Cyrus looked at his son and spoke.

               “Grab your coat, we’re going to the cellar,” Cyrus urged, his mind racing with possibilities of what could result from this battle. As Cyrus and Nathan hastily gathered a few essentials, knowing they might be down in the cellar for quite a bit, the realization struck Cyrus like a baseball flying at 50mph. His house, no, his home was stuck right in the middle of a soon-to-be historical and bloody conflict. Cyrus felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, as heavy as a full-grown elephant. Cyrus knew that their safety depended on finding refuge below ground. Cyrus and Nathan made their way outside, sneaking as quietly as they could, absolutely terrified at the fact that they could be caught in the crossfire at any moment. As they descended into the cellar, the faint cries of soldiers and the relentless percussion of warfare echoed above them. The only thing lighting the cellar was the bright moonlight outside, which was shining through the small cracks of the wooden cellar door. The dimly lit space felt claustrophobic with the scent of damp earth.

             Time seemed to stretch while they were huddled together in the small cellar. Cyrus, with a stern expression, checked a small, weathered pocket watch, the ticking audible in the small space. As time passed by, Cyrus and Nathan shared a few quiet conversations, an attempt to distract themselves from the ongoing battle outside. Nathan was soon distracted by a book that they had stashed down there, just for entertainment if something like this ever happened. Cyrus, however, was stuck without anything to distract himself from his own thoughts as he sat in silence. He pondered the consequences that the conflict outside would have on their lives. Would their lives be different after this?

               Eventually, the silence was broken as Nathan quickly looked over at his dad, his breathing increasing rapidly.

                “We forgot Ranger,” Nathan blurted out quickly. He had no time to be loud, so his voice was hushed. His eyes, however, told a different story; they were wide, and the tears filling them were about to burst out like a centuries-old dam finally being knocked down. Cyrus looked at him, his eyes filled with hopelessness as he heard the gunshots outside.

                “We can’t get him, Nathan. We’re going to have to wait until this-” Cyrus paused before he continued speaking, “-if this ends.” He looked at Nathan, who looked as if he was on the verge of breaking down. He looked at his father and nodded slowly, understanding that they couldn’t take the risk of being killed just to go get Ranger. Cyrus looked back down at his rusty pocket watch. It read “4:24 AM”. It took a while, but Nathan and Cyrus were soon asleep. This time, they weren't falling asleep to the sound of crickets chirping and owls hooting. They weren’t falling asleep to the calming sound of the trees blowing in the wind or the sound of water trickling down the stream next to their house. They were falling asleep to the sound of gunshots and cannons firing. They were falling asleep to the sound of people screaming, both in pain and anger. They were falling asleep to something that would be shaping history. Life was dreadful.