Th Boston Massacre: Elise's Story

I awoke to the sound of bird chirping and the stench of putrid British latrines. I rolled over onto my side and buried myself deeper into my blankets in an effort to sleep again, but to no avail. I sat up groggily, my hair pointing in every which way, my satin nightgown cool and soft against my skin. Papa had gotten back from a trip to New York naught but 2 days earlier. I was happy to have him back home with me and Mum, especially with James off to war. Our big, fancy looking house would be a still and un-lively space without James here. I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it.

                                                                                                                  

                I looked to my right out of the open window at the dawn sky. The chill in the air was pleasant, sending goose bumps down my arms and a tingling sensation down the length of my spine. I stared across the street at the Custom House in disgust, a British sentry standing guard. What rats these British soldiers were! Tensions between the soldiers and the good people of Boston had been building, so much that it seems it could snap at a moment.

                I got up from my bed and sat in front of my vanity, calming down my hair into a straight, dark brown cascade, flowing over my shoulders. I looked up at myself in the mirror. My features were a startling combination as many had said. Dark brown bangs swept across my forehead, shadowing my face ever so slightly. Freckles speckled across my cheeks and nose brought more attention to my bright green eyes. I had gotten my hair from Papa and my eyes and freckles from Mum. James looked quite handsome as well, but his eyes were brown. I braided my long hair and got dressed in a hurry, eager to go and eat.

                As I flew down the stairs, my boots clacking on the wood, blue dress swaying around my legs, apron flapping behind me, I met my brother halfway down and skidded to an abrupt stop just before I was about to collide with him.

"Whoa Elise! Calm down, you'll knock someone halfway back to Britain going that fast!" James exclaimed with a smile, embracing me and pulling at my braid. I loved when he did that, it made me feel safe.

"You ought to move faster then! You’re slower than Grandmother!" I said teasingly over my shoulder, jumping into my seat at the table and serving myself.  Mum sat across from me and James to my right, my father's chair still empty.

"Good Morning Elise, James. I hope you enjoy breakfast; we got some more eggs from Aunt Jenny's farm. We must go to the market straight after breakfast though Elise, we're running out of provisions." Mum said with a smile, warm and loving. I ate ravenously, as if I was a ferocious beast and the food was my prey. Papa had just come down after Mum started to pass around the glasses of milk.

"Elise! James! Good Morning! Having a grand morning Mum?" my father's booming voice echoed around the room, his distinct smell comforting me as I was pulled in to his large, warm embrace.

If home had a smell, I thought to myself, this would be it. Papa went around and hugged everyone at the table before sitting down. As we finished eating, Mum gathered the shopping baskets and provision money. We said our farewells to Papa and James and headed off towards the market. About halfway there I saw my friend Edward Garrick. He was a few years older then I, him at 16, me at 14, but he was my best friend.

                Edward was a lively spirit with fiery red hair and freckles on his nose and cheeks, just like me. HE wore a worn hat upon his head and a forest green vest today. He absolutely despised the British; he had hated them ever since they came to his family farm last December and raided all their crops to feed the British soldiers at the barracks across the way from his house. They had taken every last thing, except for the animals they hid in the hills to save from a British slaughtering.