Taken Captive in the Revolutionary War

My name is Devon Parker. A lot of people pronounce my name like Devin; but my real name is pronounced Devawn. I am ninety years old and I fought in the Revolutionary War. My mother was real worried that her baby was fighting in the war. She said there was no need for shooting people. She wanted to live in peace. I wanted to serve my country. If I had to join the army to do it, then I was willing.

I remember my first battle ever...I was eighteen years old. It was a cold December night. Hail and snow were falling from the sky. The ground was covered with snow. All I could hear were gunshots blasting and men screaming. My eyes hurt from all the cannon explosions. The British were closing in on us and I had nowhere to run. One of my men was tugging on my arm trying to say something. I couldn’t really hear him because my left ear was deaf from all the gunshots and explosions. All of a sudden, my hearing came back to me. “Devon!” the man screamed. “Get down!” Bam! A musket shot hit me right on the chest. The force of bullet pushed me back five feet and there I was, lying on the ground half awake and half unconscious. There it goes again; my left ear was deaf. It was hard to stay awake. I struggled and struggled but my eyes kept on closing. Hovering over me was a big Redcoat. He was approximately three hundred pounds and six foot eleven. I think the battle was over. I couldn’t hear anything out of my good ear. All I knew was that I was being carried by a big fat man. I saw the British captain. He ordered the man who was carrying me to place me in the carriage. Once I hit that seat, I was finally asleep. I woke up the next morning behind bars. I was taken captive at the British base. It was cold and damp in the jail cell. No mattress, I had to sleep on the hard cement floor. Slop was for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Boy if I weren’t in jail I would hate that food; but since I was in jail, it was like eating fried beans with sausage. Sausage and beans were especially good when my mother cooked them. It was the best meal in the world. Here comes one of the Redcoats. He gave me my everyday meal. No silverware; I just picked it up with my hands and gobbled it down. I wonder how much trouble I would be in at home if I did that. It was a long night. I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t used to sleeping this way. At least at my camp they gave you a blanket and pillow. I guess that’s because I wasn’t in jail. There was a lot on my mind. First, I thought about that man who told me to get down. That gunshot still really hurts. I forgot to tell the Redcoats about it. It probably wouldn’t do any good. They shot me. Why heal me? Second, I thought about my family. What are they doing right now? Either they think I’m dead or okay. I hope they think I’m okay. I don’t want them to worry. Third, I thought about how I was going to get out of this place. Maybe I would be in here for life. That would be a bummer. Fourth, I thought of how I was gonna sleep. Maybe if I were to stop thinking. When I finally fell asleep, I had a dream, a weird dream. I had some sort of automatic weapon. It shot like thirty bullets in five seconds. I knew that could never be invented but dreams are dreams. They are very odd and they don’t make sense at all. Anyway, the bars were open to my cell and I walked out. Redcoats were everywhere; but they just let me walk out. My army was at the exit door helping me escape. They asked what type of gun I had. “I don’t have a clue,” I told them. We walked about a mile and I saw my family in army uniforms. I asked them a question, then I woke up. I don’t remember what my question was. For awhile I thought that dream meant something. A couple years later, though, I was still in jail. My dream had not yet come true. Either God put that dream in my head or I just thought that dream up all by myself.

I remember the day a miracle happened. The Redcoats served me rice and corn every day. It was the weirdest thing but that food was delicious. More years and years passed and I didn’t even know how old I was. I think I was seventy but I’m not sure. I had a big fuzzy beard. It was gray and so was my long hair. I swear that I was a caveman.

Finally, my dream came true. Well not exactly. I didn’t have the gun. The general opened the bars.

“Your army has made a deal with us. They will let all their prisoners go if
we let our prisoners go,” he said.

“You agreed?” I asked.

“Yes I did.”

I couldn’t believe it. I thought my dream was just a dream; but it came true. I walked out the door and there was my army. They were escorting me back to my hometown. Like I said, right now I am ninety years old and I have a nice home and dog.

The End

Chapter 9 "A Court Meeting"

The next morning George woke up to the smell of bacon.

"Good morning, Ma'am," George said.

"Good morning," she responded, politely.

"What are you cooking?" George asked.

"I'm cooking bacon, do you want some?"

"Yes please!" George sat down at the table and ate his bacon.

"No one is allowed to see you," she said. "I heard what happened to your house and your friend." I'm so sorry."

George just stared out into the distance. "What's your name?" he asked.

"My name is Ann Parker." You can call me Ann." "You probably don't want to do this, but it's for your own good." "Last night I made arrangements for you to be in a court meeting today." Ann said.
"What did I do?!" George asked.

"Nothing," Ann said. "It's about making you free!"

"Then why did you think I didn't want to do it?" George asked.

"Never mind, just forget what I said."

Two hours later George and Ann were sitting at the court table with their lawyer sitting next to them. George admired his suit thinking he was looking pretty handsome. The judge ordered everyone to stand up and recite the Ten Commandments. At the end of the Ten Commandments, George was a little confused why God replaced "don't" with "thou shall not". He thought it would be a lot easier saying "don't". For George, two hours of the court meeting seemed ten hours. He was bored to death. It was about time when the judge received the paper from the jury. George was almost asleep and then Ann told him what that paper was. It was the decision made by the jury, if George was free, or not.
"This is the decision made by the jury," the judge said. "Mr. George Tucker... is free!" George sat in his chair shocked. Surprisingly, the whole room was full of excitement and cheering. George slapped himself making sure it wasn't a dream. But it was true. Finally, George... was free.

The End

 
Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my editor, Sandy Nichols, for taking the time to help correct my story and help me post it. I couldn’t have done it without her. She also corrected the rest of my stories and helped me post them too.
I would also like to thank all my readers by giving me supportive comments and reading all my stories.

About the Author

Paul Nichols is an eleven year old kid whose dream is to be a famous author. He has written a lot of super hero books but this is his best yet. Paul is home schooled but once he finishes with high school he hopes to go to college and learn more about writing. I wrote my book after school. It took me two months to write the whole book. I took my time to make it interesting. I am a Christian and I go to church every Sunday. For fun I like to play baseball in a little league. Every Monday I go bowling with my three brothers and my dad.

Follow Me

I have written other short fictional stories that you can find and read at my blog: “Paul’sbooksforkids.blogspot.com
You won’t be disappointed!

Chapter 8 "The New House"

Since Mack and George were up north, they started to look for a house to buy. Mack said George could live with him once they found a house. One day Mack came home from work and smiled at George. They lived in a little log hut that Mack made. It only had one room. “I found a house for fifty dollars,” he said. “It’s expensive, but we can afford it.”

“That’s great news!” George exclaimed jumping up and down.

“It is a two-story house with two bedrooms upstairs, and a living room, kitchen, and a dining room downstairs,” Mack said.

Two weeks later Mack and George started to settle into their new home. Someone knocked on the door. They looked out and saw a sheriff.

“Hi," Mack said. “How may I help you?”

“Let me get straight to the point,” the sheriff said. “This kid cannot sit around in this house all day. He has to work in the fields.”

“Why?” Mack asked, frustrated.

“He’s black.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Mack asked. His face was getting cherry red.

“Well, it doesn’t make any sense but it's because he’s black.”

“No, let me stop you right there!” Mack demanded. “Just because he was born with a different skin color, doesn’t mean he has no rights.”

“Sir, he’s supposed to be in slavery,” the sheriff said.

“Are you kidding me?” Mack asked. “What do you think the Civil War was for?”

“Sir, if you would just calm down.”

Slam! Mack slammed the door shut. George came downstairs.

“What did that guy want?”

Mack shrugged. "He was just some sales guy,” Mack lied. Right after Mack said that, a huge mob started to circle around the house with torches. Crash! The same sheriff threw a torch through the window and the house started to burn. Everyone else threw their torches on and in the house and it started to burn up real fast. Fire separated Mack and George and they couldn’t get to each other. George could get out through the window but Mack was trapped.

“George! Get out through the window and save yourself!” Mack ordered.

“I can’t leave you!” George screamed.

“Go now before it’s too late!”

“Thanks for everything, Mack, you’ve been the best friend I ever had,” George said. “I’ll miss you, Mack.” Mack was too sad to say anything. George jumped out of the window and saw the house fall. George lived on the street for a couple of weeks. One day as he walked through the town, a lady lured him into her house. George went inside.