I use to love the cold but ever since this war started, I have come to hate it. Whenever I think of the cold, I no longer have the fond memories of taking long walks through the city or playing with my younger sister. The cold is nothing more than another way for me to die. It is as if Death himself is breathing onto my skin. I have been feeling this way for months. Everyone is feeling the same way as I am. General Washington keeps telling us not to let our spirits fall but we have yet to win a battle since the war started; all we have accomplished is outrunning the British. We are suffering for a failing cause.
YOU ARE READING
The Untold Story of Frederick Michaelis
Historical FictionA story following the experiences of a young man during the Revolutionary War.
