The Bloody Massacre in King Street

Chapter 2

A loud shout came from a few blocks away. Our group fell silent as the shouting continued. I saw Josiah and I exchanged an uneasy glance, and Benjamin had to catch James’ arm to stop him from running to join the fight.

The small boy who had tagged along with us broke the silence.

“What are you waitin’ for? Let’s go get those Redcoats!” With that, he bolted down the street. Cyrus sprinted after him, shouting for him to stop. After a motion from James, we all followed.

The night seemed to grow colder as we neared the ever-heating fight. I followed a step behind James as the voices became louder and clearer. James brought our group to a stop and turned to Benjamin beside him.

“Is this a bad idea?” he asked quietly. Benjamin shook his head.

“We want the Redcoats off our streets just as much as anyone else. We’ve been talking of fighting back and revolutionizing for so many months now, and if there’s any time for it to start, this would be it.” James nodded and a smile pulled at the corners of his sullen face.

“Then tonight we spark our fire.” James turned to me and clasped my shoulder. “Will you join us, or do you wish to remain apart? Whichever you choose, let it be so. I will not try to persuade you.” James nodded once, stepped back, and looked at me expectantly.

These are my brothers. We all wish for a better tomorrow, but are street fights really the way to accomplish our goals? What if someone gets hurt? Still, time is running out. We have wished to stand up for ourselves for too long. It is time we do so.

I locked my eyes with James’ and said, “I will stay and fight here with you, my brothers.” Josiah came up from behind me and patted me on the back.

“And as brothers, we will stand up for what is right.” I smiled.

The yelling from down the street interrupted us as it grew louder. We resumed advancing toward the fight, turning the corner on King Street to find a young man harassing a Redcoat. They stood outside the Customs House, the boy yelling about British troops in the city. The boy couldn’t have been much younger than myself, two or three years at most.

Fear struck itself into my heart. I knew it would be only seconds before James and the rest of my friends joined in the yelling. They hated the soldiers guarding our city just as much as the kid in front of us. Unfortunately, I was right.

“You don’t see us invading your filthy English streets!” The voice sounded familiar. It was that of Edward Garrick. He was as a wig-maker’s apprentice who worked just down the street from my apartment and didn’t have enough muscle mass to make him a threat.

Edward continued hurling insults at the soldier for a good few minutes. My friends joined in and made everything even louder. The Redcoat called out for backup from down the street. Twelve more men joined him from their various posts, and he instructed the group to mount their bayonets.

“Close your bloody mouth before I shoot it off!” one of the soldiers yelled at Edward. He advanced towards the kid and thrust the butt of his rifle into the boy’s cheek. Edward cried out in pain and fell over dramatically.

“Look at what you’ve done!” a small voice shouted from the front of our group. The young boy who had led us here stood next to Edward, pointing at the Redcoats. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Daniel, no!” Cyrus cried out. He pushed his way past me and tried to get to Daniel, but Benjamin held him back. Cyrus tried to fight off Benjamin, but Levi jumped in and held Cyrus back by the collar of his shirt.

Meanwhile, Daniel climbed on a gun one of the men had leveled and proceeded to attack the man. Other soldiers tried to rip Daniel off, but the little boy wouldn’t be stopped. Josiah nudged me and handed over a rock slightly bigger than my fist.

I joined my friends in throwing stones at the Redcoats. When the stones ran out, we turned to the partially melted snow piles and threw snowballs. With the snow half-melted, the snowballs were hard and icy.

Suddenly, all seemed to fall silent as a Daniel’s young voice rang out.

“Go home, you British scum! You’re unwanted in these streets! Go home and—”

Daniel, still clinging to the soldier he attacked, was cut short. A deafening gunshot made our whole crowd cringe. The little boy gave out a small grunt in pain and ceased all movement. The Redcoat Daniel had climbed onto threw the little boy off and onto the street. Daniel didn’t breathe, didn’t move. A look of angry pain stayed frozen on his face.

The boy’s small soul faded into the silent night.

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Okay so I haven't updated this in like a bazillion years. So I'll just do it all now. yay more story. Hope you enjoy.

Keep on readin'.