GUMLEE Shorts

Revolution 2

My father use to tell me a lot of things. He'd tell me tales of mystical creatures. He'd tell me stories that were so unbelievable, I wanted to make them real. He told me about flying carriages, he told me about a device that could capture moving pictures. He even told me about a box that could talk.

Those tales most seemingly would belong to the future ahead of us. I wanted to see those things for myself. But my father would always say that, they would only appear in his dreams. He never actually has seen any of it.

Now. After seeing my father get hanged in order of King George, I never had the enthusiasm to even try to see what he has seen. There was no point. No point in seeing such amazing devices when I can't see them without him.

We had a dream together, everyday staying in our lawn, talking about each detail and putting them up all together trying to make things into brand new ones.

That's all gone now. The lawn that use to be filled with tools are all rusts and bolts now.

I had nothing else to do.

I gripped onto the gun in my hand swaying it back and forth as we made our way across another road before us. I bet we'll get a bunch of red coats here again.

I looked over to Bobelson up front. He was pointing at each and everyone assigning them a spot. I hope he doesn't go kill surrendering British men again. That was really inhuman of him. He caused murder without even suspecting it.

I'm starting to think this whole Revolution thing is just a waste of everyone's time.

Sure, this will probably be everywhere in history books. But what's the point? It's like reading the same book and reciting every single date every war had gone. Nobody's going to care about it anymore someday. So why do this?

We shot eight different carriages in five different roads today. We were lucky and numbered enough to shoot the British with no ome getting injured. This was why it was easier to be part of a ghost killing. You get to help and don't get killed.

The sun started to set as we got onto our horses heading back to the swamp we all had spent our first night. We laughed with one another after having a successful day. We rose up our glass of beer singing a few common songs we'd always sing during night stands.

Everyone seemed to be very proud of what they do. Everyone looked happy that they were helping. Our towns men never looked this close to ome another before.

Who knew going to a ghost kill would be the answer?

I chuckle watching everyone sing along with their tipsy laughs and woozy voices. I looked at each face I saw reminiscing every single one.

Someone's missing.

I feel like someone is.

I looked over behind me, seeing the same man I saw entering the church with his gun. The revolutionarist.

He had himself leaning onto the table with a candle beside him. His eyes dead locked onto the map spread across the furniture. He looked so determined. And we're all here cheering g and having fun.

He seemed so out of place. Who could blame him? No ome really knew him since he was not from Old Nightwest. I stood up taking another glass of beer with me.

"Knock knock." I joked pretending to knock on a door that was never there.

He looks back at me. One brow cocking up questioning why I was there. I had no idea how to describe him. He was really confusing. I didn't know if he was arrogant or aggressive. Or was he nice and caring.

One moment he trusts you with something, the next he's completely yelling onto your face.

I brushed my feet across the dak soil beneath me, making my way beside him, passing the drink to him. "What are you doing?" I drank from my glass chugging it down my throat as my eyes made it down to the map.

"Uh." He averts his eyes from me to the glass I gave him. "Trying to figure out where we should head tomorrow." He shrugs putting down the drink beside him. I don't think he had the intentions to drink from it either way.

"You're so.. irresponsibly dedicated to this." I snickered with a smirk over my lips.

"My family would have want this." He ignores my gaze and constantly traces invisible limes over the map infront of him.

"No they wouldn't." I rolled my eyes to the other men already asleep from their own songs.

"Why does everyone thinks of it that way?!" He shot his eyes at me. "You have no idea what It been through! I've seen my family die infront of me!" He sent straight up yells at me. Talk about aggressive.

"My father got hung a few days ago." I shot him a look

I saw him step back a little. His red anger-flushed face toned down. His shoulders lowered with his arm resting on the table beside him. "I-I'm sorry." His eyes slowly moved back up to mine. They we're slightly drenched, I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

This man is seriously going through strange pubescent mood swings.

"Don't be." I chuckled tracing my fingers over the sides of the glass. "I know how it feels to loose someone. You get mad. Sad. Just ruined."

"Is.." His voice sounded smooth this time. "Is that why you joined this?"

I look back at him, amusement in my face. A good guess, but no.

"No, I joined because I knew you'd be alone." I looked back to him. "Even if my father wouldn't want me to join this right now, I'd still do it."
His eyes we're glistening, and pupils were noticeably expanding. "Who'd want to sacrifice just for a dumb country?" I smiled.

His mouth was partly opened, I could here a bunch of his breathless gasps from it. His eyes were still locked on mine, and I couldn't help but just smile back and not say a word.

"Woah." He managed to speak, tucking a few strands behind his ear. "I thought you joined for your family."

I shook my head. "They wouldn't want me to anyway." I shrugged and chugged down the remaining beer in my hand.

My hands leaned against the table behind me as I placed the glass down beside the map, he was looking at. "Well, I'm gonna get me some sleep." I lifted my self from the table and walked towards ome of the tents. "Goodnight." I waved back at him as I came in the tent.

Bruh, sorry for some typos. Hehe.