Revolutionary Hearts

This Diary Belongs To: Tara Lee James

A neighbor, one Miss Elizabeth Morgan, gave me this journal. She has seen my distress, and claims that writing my thoughts shall ease the hurt.

We shall see...

May 30, 1780

Smoke still fills the sky from the fallen who were burned. Tears still fill my eyes from the horror that I witnessed. Until yesterday, I hadn't cared much either way which side won this war. However, after seeing what the British did to the Patriots, I find myself deeply against following a king who would condone such murder. I had been on the road to town with Mother when two men in red ordered us to turn back.

Oh, how I wish we had listened.

As it was, we were standing there arguing with them when the first gunshot sounded. The Red Coats turned and sprinted away. Mother tried to pull me back, but I ran after them like a fool. I know men, friends from my town, fighting for both the Patriots and Loyalists. I'm not sure what I had planned to do if any of them had been in this skirmish, but some ignorantly brave and protective part of myself propelled me forward.

I skidded to a halt on the edge of battle. Just stood in the road watching, frozen in fear and disgust. The Americans had numbers on their side, but it did them no good at all. I watched Blue after Blue fall in death, while the Reds marched steadily towards them. It seemed to take no time at all for so many to be killed, and yet the violence seemed to last a lifetime. When it seemed to be over at last, when I finally noticed Mother standing at my side, I found that the worst was just beginning.

A group of Americans surrendered.

The British slaughtered them. Every. Single. One...

My heart is still breaking for them. I recognized none and yet feel as though my own brother were stolen from me. Perhaps it is because they were brothers killing brothers in cold blood. Britain has turned on us in the worst possible way. Treason be damned. I am an American.